Ruby Bridges, Child of Civil Rights by Linda Harris Sittig

Posted on March 2, 2013 by lhsittig@verizon.net

Some women become strong with age and others are forced to learn strength during childhood. One such woman is Ruby Bridges.

Artist Norman Rockwell painted her before her ninth birthday. Look, a popular magazine of that era, featured her the year she turned ten. All the major newspapers of her childhood captured her story. And all of this because Ruby Bridges was the first black child ever to attend an all-white public school in New Orleans, Louisiana. The year was 1960 and Ruby Bridges was only six years old.
It’s often hard to look back on history and judge events by today’s standards. But in 1960 when the Civil Rights Movement was gathering momentum, a Louisiana judge selected six young black girls to attend white elementary schools and begin the process of integration in New Orleans. Two of the girls chose to remain in their old schools and three of the girls were assigned to McDonough Elementary. Ruby was sent alone, by herself, to William Frantz Elementary.
It would have been a daunting experience to go to a school where you were the only minority child, but Ruby encountered unprecedented hate as crowds of angry parents withdrew their children from the school and teachers went out of their way to avoid Ruby, except one: Barbara Henry would become her year-long teacher. On Ruby’s first day she entered her classroom to find it completely empty – she was in a class of one.
Day by day townspeople grew angrier and shouted ugly names at her as Ruby walked to school. Soon federal marshals were ordered to escort Ruby along her route. Those marshals may have protected her body, but the loneliness of going where no one wants you, had to tug at her heart. She had the love of her parents, the caring of her teacher, and by luck the support of Dr. Robert Coles, a child psychiatrist who volunteered to work with her and her family to help with the ordeal of Ruby’s isolation.
Ruby learned to further her reading and writing skills in that first grade classroom without any peers, without any friends, without any company other than her teacher. She couldn’t go out on the play ground for recess or eat lunch with any other child; but she persevered and continued to study, continued to learn, and continued to go to school each day – with perfect attendance by the end of the year.
By her second year in elementary school, the angry mobs had dispersed and she was placed in a regular second grade classroom along with a few other black students. Her beloved first grade teacher Barbara Henry, however, did not have her contract renewed. It was a message that even Ruby understood.
Ruby Bridges went on to graduate from public high school in New Orleans, become a travel agent, and then marry and start a family. When one of her brothers died, Ruby took it upon herself to walk his three young daughters to school – to William Frantz Elementary School. Walking back into that building had to resurrect the ghosts of her early childhood. Undaunted, Ruby decided to begin volunteering at Frantz, working as a liaison between parents and the school.
Eventually she became a popular speaker, going out to schools and talking about the greatest lesson she ever learned: that each child is a unique being fashioned by God and that schools can be the place where children of all races and backgrounds can come together and learn from one another.
Ruby Bridges was a strong child who grew into a stronger woman.

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Edythe Donovan Fox, Multiple Sclerosis Fighter, by Linda Harris Sittig

Posted on January 29, 2013 by lhsittig@verizon.net

In her day she must have been a real looker, the type of woman who makes men stop to gaze at an hourglass figure and confident stride.

Born in 1913, Edythe Donovan was a physically striking woman with a magnetic personality who grew up in the Washington Heights section of Manhattan, around 182nd Street. Most girls her age married right after high school, but Edythe persevered to attend both Fordham University and City College of New York. Intensely interested in politics and born a dyed-in-the-wool Democrat, she landed a job after college in a law firm in New York City; acting as the office manager by day and at night she read everything she could get her hands on about American history and the Democratic Party.

Somewhere in her 20s, two magical events occurred. First she met a young handsome artist named Val Fox, and second – she was offered an appointment by President Franklin D. Roosevelt to become the Assistant Secretary to the Attorney General of the United States. Although in love with the artist, she wistfully explained that job offers like this came only once in a lifetime and she moved to Washington D.C. while the artist remained back in New York City.

World War II erupted and when FDR died and a new administration entered the White House, Edythe returned to both New York City and the artist. They married; he continued to further his dual career as an electrical engineer and an artist, and she became pregnant.Then the unthinkable occurred. In 1954 Edythe fell and broke her knee cap, which refused to heal correctly. The doctors performed tests and concurred on a diagnosis of multiple sclerosis. Upon that pronouncement, her life dramatically changed.

Only 41 years old, with two young boys, and the prognosis of a rapidly crippling disease, Edythe took stock of her life. Where other women might have railed against God, she proclaimed it was the hand she had been dealt and she would see it through.

At first she maneuvered with a leg brace and cane, but within ten years she became confined to a hospital bed: one she insisted on installing in the living room of their suburban New Jersey rambler so people could come to call. While Ann Landers and Dear Abby may have been the queens of advice in print, Edythe kept her house continually open to a steady stream of neighbors and friends who came by to ask her advice on a variety of topics. She hired three high school girls to cook and clean, and encouraged her now teenage boys to hold their rock band practices in the basement. Her devoted husband, Val, continued to work, paint and take care of her.

When the Glen Rock High School graduating class of 1965 asked Val Fox to be in charge of designing the elaborate backdrop sets for the all night graduation party, “A Night in Paris”, Edythe decided to launch a one woman campaign to secure door prizes for the seniors. Phone calls and letters went out to every senior’s parents, asking that they save all their S & H Green Stamps and mail them to Edythe’s house.

By now the multiple sclerosis had rendered the right side of her body useless, but she still had partial movement in her left arm and hand. For months she used a wet sponge and painstakingly pasted the S & H Green Stamps into booklets and then redeemed thoughtful door prizes from the company’s catalog. On graduation night she lay in her hospital bed with the windows wide open so she could hear the all-night band playing at the high school party. By the wee hours of dawn, each graduating senior, all 248 of us, received a wonderful door prize with which to remember our commencement.

The Multiple Sclerosis Foundation recognized Edythe with a deserved accolade as the MS Mother of the Year. But everyone in our small town already knew she was a phenomenon. She died over the 4th of July weekend in 1986 at the age of 73, having lived almost half her life with a disease that may have crippled her limbs, but never her spirit.

A true strong woman and I am proud to have known her.

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Harriet Hanson Robinson, Factory Child by Linda Harris Sittig

Posted on January 2, 2013 by lhsittig@verizon.net

The city of Lowell, Massachusetts hugs the Merrimack River, grateful to the water source that once played host to ten giant textile mills starting back in the 1830s. Energy surged through the town as over 10,000 power looms transferred raw cotton into finished cloth and 300,000 spindles guaranteed employment. In its heyday the mills produced a million yards of cloth per week.

But of course people had to work in those mills to produce the fabric. A better terminology would be that they toiled in the mills; and by ‘they’, I mean women and children. Lowell stands today as a testament to the once mighty power of the New England textile industry, but it was also the first place in America where workers went on strike. The most notable striker was an eleven year old girl – Harriet Hanson.

In today’s culture professional athletic teams strike, transportation workers shut down mass transit and auto workers can paralyze Detroit. But the strikes in Lowell were different because they were led entirely by women.

By ‘Turning Out’, as the early strikes were called, the female workers demonstrated that unfair practices would no longer be tolerated. They did not strike because of the thirteen hour workdays, or weekly wages of just under $2.00, or the unhealthy practice of nailing all windows shut to insure a constant humidity in the mills; they ‘turned out’ because the mill owners had decided to raise the profit margin by reducing the women’s wages in a unique way. Since most of the women had to board in town during the work week, and the mill owners also owned the boarding houses, they simply raised the rates of room and board, and then deducted it directly from the women’s take home pay. If any woman did not comply, she was promptly fired, and replaced by a new worker.

However, everything changed in 1836. Harriet Hanson had been working for a year as a bobbin girl, where she removed full bobbins of thread from the giant spinning frames and brought empty ones in replacement. At the age of eleven, she was a full time worker and readily understood the unfair and unhealthy treatment of the women in the factory. Lowell may have boasted its claim as the first planned industrial city in America, but for the women and children who worked in the mills it was a life of pure drudgery. Many workers only survived ten years, and deafness was a common result from the incessant noise of the behemoth machines. When the new higher board fee was announced many women complained and some talked about Turning Out. Others were too afraid to resist, lest they lose their jobs. The air hummed with indecisiveness.

Then Harriet stood up in the spinning room at the Lawrence Cotton Mill and announced that she for one was Turning Out. Miraculously, most of all the women in that room followed her. Once the other workers saw the women coming out with Harriet, a mass exodus occurred and the Lawrence Mill was effectively shut down for the day. Eventually the owners reconsidered the raise on room and board.

It would be wonderful to report that mill conditions improved, but they did not for many decades. Harriet continued to work as a mill girl, then got married, and became a lifelong participant in the Suffragette and Abolitionist Movements. She claimed that her most proud moment however, was when she led the Turn Out in 1836.

She died at the age of eighty six in 1911, before the Fair Labor Standards Act was passed, or women were granted the right to vote, or the Jim Crow Laws were abolished. But she held to the belief that courage and standing up for what you believe in, does make a difference – even if you have to wait years to see the fruits of your convictions.

Thanks to author Emily Arnold McCully for making me aware of Harriet Hanson Robinson.

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Sarah Chamberlain Eccelston, Champion of Education by Linda Harris Sittig

Posted on December 4, 2012 by lhsittig@verizon.net

For most five year olds in the United States entering kindergarten is a normal event, seen often as a rite of passage rather than a privilege for the masses. This was not always the case. In fact, not until the second half of the 1800s did communities begin to understand the benefits of a transition year for young children to help ease the buffer from play to an academic setting. First started by Friedrich Froebel in the 1850s in Germany, the Kindergarten model quickly spread to the United States.
But in order for there to be kindergartens, there must be kindergarten teachers. Thus, some Normal Schools began to train their pupils in the tenets of early childhood education. (Normal School was the name given to schools preparing teachers for a career in education).
Enter Sarah Chamberlain. Born in 1840 in Lewisburg, Pennsylvania, Sarah graduated from the Bucknell Female Institute intending to become a teacher. However, within a few years the Civil War erupted and she volunteered instead to become an Army nurse and was sent to serve in Nashville, Tennessee. When the war ended, she married Charles Eccelston, a soldier she had met during her nursing career. Nine years later she became a widow with two small children to raise alone.
Her family offered to take her and the children under their roof, but fiercely independent Sarah announced that she would take the children with her to Philadelphia where she would attend a Normal School that trained kindergarten teachers. Determined to remain autonomous, Sarah finished the training and taught kindergarten to support herself and her two children.
In 1880 opportunity presented itself when the town of Winona, Minnesota advertised the need for a kindergarten teacher. Sarah moved to Winona, taught kindergarten, and later established a kindergarten training program at the Winona Normal School. After three years of harsh winters, Sarah saw a unique opportunity when Argentine President Domingo Faustino Sarmiento asked for North American teachers to come start schools and train teachers so that all Argentine children would have access to an education.
Leaving her college-age son back in Pennsylvania, Sarah took her 14-year-old daughter with her on an arduous journey to Paraná, Argentina. Here, Sarah would find her life calling.
At times homesick, underpaid, and without supplies, Sarah successfully began teaching her first Argentine kindergarten in 1884. Her reputation quickly spread and soon she was training future kindergarten teachers at a nearby Institute. Eventually Sarah went on to establish a large training school in Buenos Aries and became Argentina’s official inspector of kindergarten programs. At the age of 53 she was invited back to the United States for a worldwide educational convocation where she represented Argentina’s kindergarten system. She continued setting up and running kindergarten programs in Argentina until she was 76 years old.
It is never easy to leave one’s homeland, but Sarah was determined to pursue her passion. Sarah Chamberlain Eccelston is fondly remembered in her adopted country as the Grandmother of Kindergartens. For us, she is remembered as a strong independent woman who followed her dream.
Thanks to Pat Parker for sending me Sarah Eccelston’s name.

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Eleanor Roosevelt, National Activist by Linda Harris Sittig

Posted on November 1, 2012 by lhsittig@verizon.net

At a physical glance, Eleanor Roosevelt might not be considered memorable. She never opted for the limelight and would have perhaps been perfectly content just marrying the man she loved, raising a family, and working for a charitable cause. Instead she became thrust into the national spotlight as First Lady of the United States, when her husband Franklin Delano Roosevelt, became President.
If you read any of her biographies you might be struck by her shy nature as a young woman, and the nearly impossible situation of starting out marriage living side by side with an overbearing mother-in-law. However, as Eleanor matured from a young woman into a First Lady, she learned how to adapt to family situations and to the American public, simply by becoming a risk taker who worked behind the scenes to make things happen.
Born into vast wealth and privilege, she none the less started working with the poor when at 18 she joined the Junior League of New York City and volunteered in the East Side slums. When she and Franklin began to court, she took him to the East Side tenements so he could see how poor people living in desperate situations needed help from the government.
As First Lady she made appearances, supported causes, and remained loyal to her husband. But in addition, she sought out ways in which to bring attention to groups of Americans who had been largely overlooked by others, including her husband’s administration.
Shortly after Franklin Roosevelt became President in 1933, Eleanor paid a surprise visit to several of the coal mining communities of West Virginia to determine the quality of their living conditions, and subsequently launched a program to relocate several miners’ families to the government built town of Arthurdale, West Virginia where work was made available.
In 1943 she made a personal visit to the Gila River Japanese Internment Camp located in Arizona. After checking on the plight of the Japanese-Americans who had been incarcerated there post Pearl Harbor, she wrote an article for Colliers Magazine in which she decried the position of stereotyping entire ethnic groups and called for Americans to be more humane in their treatment of others.
Perhaps one of her most poignant decisions occurred in 1939 when she wrote a letter of resignation to the Daughters of the American Revolution because African-American singer Marian Anderson had not been allowed to perform at the D.A.R. Constitution Hall in Washington D.C. Eleanor instead helped to orchestrate an outdoor venue at the Lincoln Memorial in Washington, which drew 75,000 people to hear Marian Anderson perform.
In a time when only a small percentage of women worked in professional jobs, Eleanor held press conferences, wrote a weekly magazine column, and campaigned tirelessly for civil rights and human rights for all.
Regardless of her family and husband, she made her own mark in history, and understood humility. Although not often cited, here is the poem she carried in her purse throughout World War II and was said to have read daily to remind herself of what true sacrifice is:
Dear Lord
Lest I continue
My complacent way
Help me to remember
Somehow out there
A man died for me today.
As long as there be war
I then must
Ask and answer
Am I worth dying for?

November is the month in which we pay tribute to all Veterans, perhaps Eleanor Roosevelt deserves tribute too.

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Lola Herrera, Adventurer by Linda Harris Sittig

Posted on September 25, 2012 by lhsittig@verizon.net

Lola Herrera was the youngest daughter of a Peruvian plantation owner at the turn of the last century. Living the life of privilege, she could not have imagined how quickly fate can change in the blink of an eye. Entering her teens, she was seduced by her father’s distillery manager, becoming pregnant at the age of 13.
As her lover had promised undying love, he also persuaded her that a pregnancy would make it impossible for her father to refuse the request for her hand in marriage. When the full picture was disclosed, her father instead followed his Victorian code of honor and wrote ‘deceased’ next to her name in the family Bible. Shocked and most certainly confused, she was told to pack; never to return.
Her father looked the other way as the plantation overseer made provisions for her to live with a family in the city. They turned out to be unscrupulous, using her ‘birthing money’ to purchase a sewing machine. In order to earn her rent and board, she became a seamstress in their garment business, working from sunup to sundown. After giving birth to her baby, Lola made the first of many independent decisions: she decided that to stay with the family would relegate her to a life of slavery. Instead, she took the infant and walked the streets of the city, trying to find a room to rent.
Befriended by a kind stranger, she was directed to a nearby establishment, which in her naiveté she thought was an all women’s boarding house: instead it was a bordello. The madam at first dismissed Lola because of the infant, until Lola convinced her she was an excellent seamstress and could make fashionable outfits for the other ‘women of the house.’
Because of her sewing capabilities, Lola went on to make money for herself and took care of her child; eventually moving out of the bordello and procuring both a small apartment and a job at a dry goods store. It was there that she met and fell in love with Mehmet, her first husband.
After Mehmet’s death at sea, she became a widow; now with two children to raise. Eventually there were three more husbands, and four more children, as she gave birth in each marriage, and ultimately became a widow three times over. Her second husband was murdered, and her third husband moved the family from South America to the United States, forcing Lola to adapt once more to change. Her tumultuous life took her from the Andes of her childhood to the slopes of San Francisco as an adult; living then into her 90s. Along the way she kept discovering that only the strong survive.
If you would like to read more about this strong, independent woman, look for the full story, It’s Just Lola, available at http://www.amazon.com/dp/1478119470/.

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Josie Murray, Civil Rights Activist by Linda Harris Sittig

Posted on August 31, 2012 by lhsittig@verizon.net

You probably have walked into a public library at one point in your life and checked out a book.  But how would you feel if you were denied that privilege due to the color of your skin? One African American woman set about to rectify that situation in a sleepy little southern town in Virginia. The year was 1957.

Josie Murray and her husband Samuel Murray were well known upholsterers in western Loudoun County, Virginia.  Their business was advertised solely by word of mouth and although they lived in what was referred to as ‘the colored side’ of town, customers came from as far away as the District of Columbia.  National and local politicians, as well as painters, cooks, and housewives, adorned their homes with the Murray’s beautiful custom made curtains, draperies, and shades. Josie and Samuel continued however to live in a modest house, next door to their workshop.

Josie had grown up in a family of activists; her grandfather, Joseph Cook, had been a leader in the Loudoun County Emancipation Association, and had built the town’s first school for African American children.  Everyone in Josie’s family worked hard, and became respected members of the community.

During the winter of 1956, Mrs. Mabel Moore, from a neighboring town, asked Josie to fashion some shades modeled on an Austrian pattern.  However, neither Josie nor Samuel had any idea of what the pattern looked like, so they dressed in their best outfits, and walked over to the town library to do the research.  When they asked about checking out a book, they were informed they were not allowed to be in the building or have access to any of the materials.

Josie left, contacted the client, and explained the situation. What no one else perhaps knew was that this particular client was the sister-in-law of then President, Dwight D. Eisenhower. Josie was advised to seek legal counsel, which she and Samuel did; procuring representation from a lawyer in Washington D.C.  Subsequent letters and phone calls were exchanged, and a few months later the library board changed their policy to allow all citizens of Loudoun County open access.

Mrs. Moore got her Austrian shades, and Josie Murray’s actions helped to desegregate public libraries in the state of Virginia. Josie lived until her 90th birthday, sewing and designing curtains, drapes, and shades for customers both near and far. Some of her designs still decorate President Eisenhower’s home, in Gettysburg, Pennsylvania.

Josie Murray, a strong independent woman who quietly changed the status quo.

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Ka’ahumanu, Rule Breaker by Linda Harris Sittig

Posted on August 3, 2012 by lhsittig@verizon.net

She squared off against the sacred traditions of her people, customs that had endured for well over a thousand years. Ka’ahumanu of Maui, initiated the breakup of the taboo system that had prevailed against women since the arrival of her ancestors.
Born in the late 1700s, she undoubtedly had special privileges as one of King Kamehameha I’s five wives, but no indemnity against kapu, the classification of forbidden actions which her Polynesian forebears had brought with them to the islands known as Hawaii.
The ancient Hawaiians lived in a rigorous stratified society that was divided by castes. First came the king, followed by the ali’i (chiefs), the kahuna (priests, healers, and craftsman), and the vast majority of the remaining population were the commoners. The kapu system, however, applied to everyone, with the exception of the king.
Kapu was the scaffold of the society, and so strongly entrenched that violators were swiftly put to death. It permeated the Hawaiians’ daily lives and was taught to children as soon as they were old enough to understand the rules, and the consequences. A commoner could be killed for something as simple as allowing his or her shadow to fall across a chief. A woman could have a kapu put on her by the whim of the king.
Records indicate that Ka’ahumanu would be thought of as a feisty woman by modern standards. Both bold and intelligent, she went into league with her mother-in-law after the death of King Kamehameha I and together they convinced the new ruler, King Kamehameha II to allow them to eat at his table. Women had never been allowed to eat with the men, though of course they could do the cooking.
Once this first kapu had been broken, she set about to raise Hawaiian women from the status of second class citizens, by her own involvement in governmental affairs. In order to help the new king, Kamehameha II, attend to his duties, she offered to help with her extensive knowledge of the political structure of the islands. It was only a matter of time before she appointed herself as the first kuhina nui, or premier. It was a post she would hold for the rest of her life, and enable her to change many of the laws that discriminated against women.
Her grave is located in the old royal cemetery in Lahaina, Maui where fresh island flowers decorate her tomb. You may read further about her life in Hawaiian Journey by Joseph G. Mullins, available at http://www.Amazon.com.

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Cicely Saunders, Founder of Hospice by Linda Harris Sittig

Posted on June 30, 2012 by lhsittig@verizon.net

While this woman’s name might not be familiar to you, her cause has touched almost every nation on Earth. Cicely Saunders started the modern Hospice program.

Born in June, 1918 in the countryside of Hertfordshire, England, Cicely Saunders came to Oxford University to start her formal education at St. Anne’s college, studying philosophy. Later, she switched fields to eventually qualify as a medical social worker.

After completing her Oxford education, she left to become a student nurse, working at St. Thomas’s Hospital in London.  It was there that she met and fell in love with David Tasma, a Polish-Jewish refugee who was dying of cancer.  At this point, all hospice programs were administered only by certain religious orders who offered care for the dying poor.

After Tasma’s death, Cicely Saunders became determined to fill dying patients’ last days with dignity.  She applied for and was accepted at St. Thomas’s Medical School to study to become a physician; receiving her license in 1957.

Her first physician’s job, working with the dying, occurred at St. Joseph’s Hospital in the poor east end of London, where she stayed for a seven year term researching palliative care.  During her time at St. Joseph’s she fell in love once again with a patient, Antoni Michniewicz. His subsequent death to cancer left her determined to set up her own hospice for cancer patients of any background and income.

It would take another six years, and the grueling task of procuring finances before St. Christopher’s Hospice opened in 1967 in London, England.  This was the world’s first hospital built expressively to help the dying.  It was founded upon the tenets of combining research based medical care with the physical, social, psychological and spiritual needs of both the patient and the patient’s family.

Devoting herself to her work, she did not marry until the age of 61 when she became the wife of artist Marian Bojusz-Szuszki.  Throughout her marriage, she continued to work with St. Christopher’s Hospital and to lecture and write about the needs of the dying and the terminally ill.

Bestowed with the title of Dame, by Queen Elizabeth II in 1979, Dame Cecily Saunders died of cancer in 2005 at the age of 87, spending her last days at St. Christopher’s Hospice.  At the entrance to St. Christopher’s today, hangs a plain sheet of glass which pays tribute to a gift from David Tasma all those years ago, when dying, he left her with 500 pounds sterling to use ‘to become a window in your home’.  His words and his money became the germination of the seed for her to pursue her goal of establishing hospitals that would care for the terminally ill.

Today, Hospice International operates on every continent on Earth, save Antarctica.  And who know, perhaps one day the influence of Dame Cicely Saunders will be felt there as well.

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Sigridur Tomasdottir, Steward of the Land by Linda Harris Sittig

Posted on May 28, 2012 by lhsittig@verizon.net

From the sundrenched Nile to the windswept valleys of Iceland, this month I am paying tribute to a woman not well known outside Scandinavia.  She was neither rich nor beautiful, or famous for conquering armies or men.  Instead, she championed a cause to preserve a natural wonder from being harnessed for industrial development.  Her name was Sigridur Tomasdottir.

Born in the early 1870s in the rural hamlet of Brattholt, in southwest Iceland, she grew up on her family’s sheep farm, the lands of which also contained the stupendous waterfall called Gullfoss.  As a child she must have run barefoot in summer under brilliant blue Icelandic skies, and watched as winter turned the land into a frozen panorama of dazzling white. Regardless of the season, she would have been able to hear the thunderous roar of the falls as it cascaded down from the Hvita River. How could one not be impressed with this magnificent gift from nature?

By the beginning of the 20th century, investors started becoming interested in exploiting Iceland’s waterfalls for hydroelectric power. Several financiers were able to actually rent Gullfoss from her father, while planning its use for industrialization.  When it appeared that the waterfall might actually be sold to far-off investors, Sigridur started making numerous trips to the capital, Reykjavik, to speak to government officials of the potential loss were Gullfoss to become owned by foreign industrialists.  It is interesting to note that it was a 72 mile trek for her to reach the city.

Year after year, she championed for the falls to be put into conservation, and used her own savings to hire a lawyer to represent her. That lawyer went on to become the first President of Iceland. By the time she died in 1957, she was almost 87 years old and had lived long enough to see laws passed that excluded foreign nationals from being able to purchase a state-owned waterfall.  The Gullfoss Waterfall was finally put into permanent conservation in 1979 and still remains one of Iceland’s most spectacular natural sites. It is within the top three tourist destinations for travelers visiting Iceland.

I chose Sigridur because even without the benefit of a formal education, or political clout, or family  money, she followed her passion, believed in her cause, never gave up, and pursued her quest without regard for fortune or fame.  Her legacy is our access to the falls.  Go to http://www.youtube.com and click on any button for Gullfoss. I hope you enjoy their majestic beauty.

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