Florence Owens Thompson and Sharbat Gula: Profiles in Courage

Posted on October 1, 2021 by lhsittig@verizon.net

By Linda Harris Sittig

Florence Thompson image from New York Public Library. Photographer: Dorothea Lange

Sharbat Gula image from Global Student Square. Photographer: Steve McCurry

You may not recognize their names, but their photos were two of the most famous published in the twentieth century.

The two women hailed from different continents, different ethnic backgrounds, and varied in time 50 years apart: yet, as refugees, their courage and perseverance bind them to each other.

Depression Era photographer Dorothea Lange took Florence’s picture (on left) and published it in 1936 in a San Francisco area newspaper. Ms. Lange had taken the photo in a pea-pickers camp in California and wanted to show the plight of the out-of-work, impoverished migrant workers.

In the iconic photo, Florence is 33 years old, although she appears to be much older. Perhaps the acute anxiety etched on her face shows how a human can age before their time when living in extreme poverty.

In 1984, photographer Steve McCurry took Sharbat’s photo (on right) on an assignment to document the plight of Afghan people living in Pakistan refugee camps after fleeing their homeland in the early 1980s. The photo was chosen as a National Geographic cover for their magazine, thus allowing the world to see young Sharbat.

Sharbat was an orphan, approximately 12 years old in her famous photo, although she, too, appears to be older.

Florence was a full-blooded Cherokee from Oklahoma who left the Dust Bowl disaster of the 1920s with her husband and children in tow and made their way west to California, picking crops for pennies a day.

Sharbat fled from Afghanistan during the Soviet-Afghan War of guerilla fighting lasting nine years from 1980 – 1989. Since Sharbat was born in 1973, she spent a significant amount of her young life living as a refugee.

Florence fled to escape the ravages of the Oklahoma Dust Bowl, and Sharbat fled her home to escape the ravages of war-torn Afghanistan.

Like all refugees, Florence and Sharbat fled with only the possessions they could carry and left behind the once stable life they knew. And also, like all refugees, every day was a day of questions: would there be enough food, would they be safe in this location, and what would the future bring?

Florence was photographed with three of her children, although she had a total of six. Sharbat was photographed as a 12-year-old girl, although she would eventually grow up, marry, raise four children and return to Afghanistan.

Education was scarce for both Florence and Sharbat, yet both women have left an indelible mark on history. Why?

Because when one looks at their photos, what immediately strikes the viewer is the haunting image of resilience.

Both women, in tattered clothes, have the worn look of adversity tinged with courage. Although there is no quoted caption, both women could be saying, “Yes, I am afraid for myself, but I will survive.”

Both Florence and Sharbat did indeed survive economic poverty, health issues, and uncertain futures.

Florence died at age 80, and as of this writing, Sharbat is still alive.

What both women gave unconsciously to the world was an image of undeniable strength, courage in the face of adversity, and a will that carried them beyond the history of the harrowing experiences thrust upon them.

They are a salute to refugees everywhere.

Two Strong Women.

If you enjoyed Florence and Sharbat’s story and would like to become a follower of this monthly blog, please sign up on the right sidebar.

You can also catch me on Twitter @LHsittig, or my web page LINDASITTIG.COM, or find my books in stand-alone bookstores and on Amazon. CUT FROM STRONG CLOTH, LAST CURTAIN CALL, COUNTING CROWS, and B-52 DOWN!

~ linda:)

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DorisMarie McCormick, Diane Peedin, Fay Payne, Gene Townley, and Carol Wooten: Strong Women Forced by Fate

Posted on September 1, 2021 by lhsittig@verizon.net

by Linda Harris Sittig

What bound these five women together was their courage in the face of an appalling shared tragedy, a tragedy that befell their husbands and altered the life of each family.

This image has an empty alt attribute; its file name is B52-Down-front-cover-only-715x1024.jpg

The Beginning

All of their husbands worked together at Turner Air Force Base in Albany, Georgia.

Well, worked, might just underplay their jobs. This five-man crew played a crucial part in the Strategic Air Command of the United States Air Force in the Chrome Dome Operation of the 1960s during America’s Cold War with Russia.

The men worked as a well-oiled team, flying massive B-52 bombers on 24-hour runs, circling near Russian airspace in the event that the United States would be attacked by Russian missiles. While their husbands were together on these 24-hour runs three times a month, their families continued with their lives on an Air Force Base.

The Women

DorisMarie hailed from California, Fay from Oklahoma, Diane from North Carolina, Gene from Alabama, and Carol from South Dakota.

At age 39, DorisMarie was the tallest wife, over 6 feet. She loved to cook Mexican food and had hopes of becoming a graphic artist. But then she met Tom McCormick near the end of WWII and swapped her artistic dreams for the life of a military pilot’s wife.

Fay, at 42, was the oldest of the five wives. She had been enrolled in secretarial school in Tulsa when she met Bob Payne. They soon discovered they had a shared love for dancing, and she won him over with her delicious home-baked cherry pies.

Diane, at 29, was the fashionista of the group. She had been voted Best All-Around Girl in her senior year in a North Carolina high school. She loved clothes and met Mack Peedin while still in school and then quit college to marry him. Marrying an Air Force co-pilot sounded exciting. She had no idea of the dangers her husband would face.

Gene, age 39, grew up in Alabama, where the tradition of entertaining guests can be considered an art. Gene perfected her reputation by concocting delectable peanut butter milkshakes that both guests and husband Robert Townley loved.

Carol, at age 23, was the youngest of the five and the only wife in the small group not married to an officer. Carol met her future husband, Melvin Wooten, at a roller-skating rink when she was still in high school. Blonde and petite, Carol’s life quickly centered on marriage and then on children.

DorisMarie was the mother of two boys, Fay was the mother of two boys and a daughter, Diane had one son, Gene had two sons, and Carol had a son and two daughters. All five women had lived on various Air Force bases when they found themselves together in 1963 at Turner Air Field in Georgia.

The Turning Point

The turning point in their lives started on January 12, 1964.

It was a balmy Sunday in Albany, Georgia. All of their husbands had the day off, and then the phones rang. A B-52 bomber in Westover Air Force Base in Chicopee, Massachusetts, needed to be ferried back to Albany for repairs. A five-man crew was necessary for the retrieval flight.

One by the one, the five husbands, Major Tom McCormick, Captain Mack Peedin, Major Bob Payne, Major Robert Townley, and Tech Sergeant Melvin Wooten, suited up, kissed their wives goodbye and flew up to Massachusetts.

The return flight was supposed to be routine, but it didn’t turn out that way.

Leaving Massachusetts at 12:30 am, the crew made it as far as Philipsburg, Pennsylvania, when they encountered an unexpected blizzard, later called the blizzard of the century. Their plane collided with 167 mile-an-hour winds, and the rear tail and back wings sheared off. This force threw the aircraft (traveling at 500 mph) into Negative G, and it spiraled, then flipped upside down.

The men had no choice but to eject. At 30,000 feet. Into a howling blizzard. With ground temperatures below zero. And with 3-4 feet of snow already on the ground.

One by one, they ejected, only to find themselves landing and then stranded in the roughest terrain of the area, in the mountains of Garrett County, western Maryland. It would have been helpful had they landed near each other. But as fate would have it, each man touched down approximately 2 miles away from anyone else. Two miles in deep snow in zero visibility and the blizzard still raging.

By 5:00 am the Base Commander at Turner visited each wife and alerted her with the assumption that the plane had crashed and the five men listed as missing.

One can only imagine the emotions of each wife as she waited, clinging to a desperate hope that her husband might somehow, miraculously be found alive.

Each of the women had neighbors who came and sat with them while awaiting the news. None of the women had family nearby other than their children. While DorisMarie and Gene had older children, Fay, Diane, and Carol had young children.

And the five wives would not know at the time that a combination of 1,000 volunteers – locals of Garrett and Allegany Counties plus military, were trekking the mountains trying to locate and rescue the downed men.

The Aftermath

By the end of the five-day search for survivors, some of the five wives became widows, and others would experience survivors’ guilt.

To read the entire story with the memorable crash and rescue efforts, look for my newest book, B-52 DOWN! Available now from your favorite book store, or can be ordered through Amazon at www.amazon.com/dp/1940553105.

The first six people who respond to today’s blog by emailing me LHsittig@verizon.net, will receive a link to a complimentary Kindle copy of B-52 DOWN!

And, if you have not yet signed up to become a follower of this blog, please enter your email on the right sidebar. Join with over 1200 other people who enjoy the monthly stories of Strong Women.

~ linda

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Mamie “Peanut” Johnson: Pitching Her Way Forward

Posted on August 1, 2021 by lhsittig@verizon.net

by Linda Harris Sittig

Photo courtesy of Capri23auto, Pixabay.com

“Take me out to the ballgame, take me out to the crowd…”

A strong woman and outstanding baseball player, Mamie Belton (Johnson) was born in 1935, Ridgeway, South Carolina. Her mother soon moved them to Washington D.C. to live with Mamie’s grandmother. By age eight, Mamie lived with an aunt and uncle in New Jersey and played pick-up baseball games. Fashioning baseballs from rocks, twine, and tape, she started playing the game that would define her life by playing with the neighborhood boys.

If those boys scoffed at first by having a girl on their team, they quickly changed their tune when Mamie proved to be an excellent pitcher.

IN THE BEGINNING

In New Jersey, she found herself the only girl and the only African-American on a local team. It did not detour her from her determination to become one of the best players. She played throughout her childhood on whatever team was available.

After graduating from high school, she relocated back to Washington D.C. and joined the St. Cyprian recreational team. At 17, she and another friend went to the tryouts in Alexandria, Virginia, for the All-American Girls Professional Baseball League. And they may have been the best candidates, but the organization refused to allow Mamie or her friend even to try out. The All-American Girls Pro Team was all-white.

Disappointed but undaunted, Mamie continued to play at St. Cyprians.

THE NEGRO LEAGUE

Then, in 1953 a scout saw Mamie dominate in a lineup of male baseball players. He approached her after the game and urged her to try out for the Negro League team that had launched the career of Hank Aaron. He had no qualms about her being a female; she was just that good.

It was during this time in her life that she earned the nickname “Peanut” Johnson.

Mamie was on the pitcher mound when a player from the other team swaggered up to the plate and sneered loudly, “why that girl’s no bigger than a peanut.” She promptly struck him out, and her nickname became legend; the strong woman no bigger than a peanut.

Clocking in at just under 5’4″ and weighing less than 100 pounds, Mamie “Peanut” Johnson was a force to behold.  

She signed with the Indianapolis Clowns, alongside Toni Stone and Connie Morgan, to play in the Negro League. They were the only three females playing in a league of men. Mamie became the only female pitcher in the League and played with the Indianapolis Clowns for the next two years. During that time, she allegedly had a 33-8 win-loss pitching record and a batting average of .262 – .284.

But it was her ability as a right-handed pitcher that cemented her definition in the annals of baseball. Taking lessons from no other than Satchel Paige, she developed a hard fastball and a curveball, screwball, and knuckleball.

LIFE CHANGES

Then, at the age of 19, she answered a different call and left the world of the Negro Leagues to take care of her young son, Charles Johnson. She earned a nursing degree from North Carolina Agricultural & Technical State University and started what would become a 30-year nursing career at Sibley Hospital in Washington, D.C.

Although Mamie Johnson only had two years as a professional baseball player, she has been the subject of books and articles, fetes, and awards. She was a guest of the Clintons in the White House in 1999 and inducted into the Negro League Baseball Museum in Kansas City and the Baseball Hall of Fame in Cooperstown, New York.

Streets have been named in her honor, Little League baseball fields carry her name, and even Hollywood gave her a cameo reference. Remember the scene in A League of Their Own, when a Black woman picks up the loose ball that fell in the stands and throws it back to Geena Davis? That woman would have been Mamie Johnson.

After watching the 2020 Olympics from Tokyo and all the outstanding athletes that competed, I am thinking of Mamie Johnson, one of her era’s most talented female athletes.

Not only a strong right arm but one Strong Woman.

“Buy me some peanuts and Cracker Jack….”

If you enjoyed Mamie’s story and would like to get vignettes of other Strong Women once a month, please sign up on the right sidebar of the blog.

You can also catch me on FaceBook, Twitter, Instagram, and my webpage www.LindaSittig.com. I have a new book coming out in August, and you’ll get a chance to hear about the five women I feature in B-52 DOWN! The Night the Bombs Fell from the Sky when you read my September blog post.

~ Linda

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Katie Walker, Vigilant Keeper of the Light

Posted on July 1, 2021 by lhsittig@verizon.net

By Linda Harris Sittig

Katie’s Story

When petite Katie Gortler Walker followed her husband up the stairs to their new home, she peered at her surroundings with dismay.

No matter which way she looked, her gaze fell upon water. Their new home was a lighthouse built on a rocky ledge, surrounded by Upper New York Bay. The closest community was a mile over the water to Staten Island, New York.

The year was 1885, and Katie and her husband were no strangers to being lightkeepers. They had previously tended the Sandy Hook Lighthouse in New Jersey. But at Sandy Hook, Katie had a garden and neighbors. Here at Robbins Reef, the only neighbors were the seagulls. The prospect of living in total isolation while tending a lighthouse was enough to make Katie wonder if their marriage would survive.

Then only a year after her husband John brought Katie to Robbins Reef, he died from complications of pneumonia.

But Katie was a strong woman, a powerful woman. At age 44, faced with the prospect of being an unemployed widow, Katie decided to stay at the lighthouse. In addition to the duties involved with the light, Katie had to row her children to school each morning on Staten Island and returned for them each afternoon.

Katie had been assisting John as the keeper of the light, and she continued to tend the lighthouse for four more years in an unofficial capacity. After her husband’s death, the keeper position at Robbins Reef was offered to multiple men, but all declined. Katie was finally hired, officially, at a salary of $600 per year.

Lighthouses in American History

Lighthouses had existed in America since the early 1700s but were tended mainly by men.

By the mid-1800s, the women who did become ‘keepers of the light’ were usually widows or daughters of keepers. Data suggests that they were primarily middle-aged (in their 40s) and able to read and write. All of them were physically strong, and for the most part, their salaries were equal to that of male keepers.

They had to be strong because daily chores involved keeping the light in working condition and any needed repairs to the living quarters, tower, and grounds. At night, the keep would climb the steep stairs, light the kerosene light, and maintain a vigil, winding the mechanism for the rotating lens once every five hours. Of course, for the lamp to stay lighted, the keeper also had to haul large quantities of oil. That meant hauling the oil up however many steps as necessary to reach the top—often 200 or more.

Then the heavy lens had to be cleaned daily and the wicks trimmed and brass polished. Katie extinguished the massive lamp each morning at dawn. And if by chance the night contained dense fog, then Katie would climb back down to the basement of the light and start the generator to operate the fog horn. And during her long career, she witnessed the progression from kerosene lamps to oil, and finally to electricity.

At dawn, after extinguishing the lamp, she would draw blinds to protect the Fresnel Lens from the direct sunlight and then retreat to her living quarters until it was time to rise with the children to get them to school. She often grabbed a nap after lunch to sustain herself for the mile-long row to retrieve the children and the evening ahead of tending the light.

The manual labor for women keepers was often accompanied by penetrating isolation, depending upon the lighthouse location. For Katie Walker, in the middle of New York Bay, that meant very few visitors.

Rescues

Then, there were the rescues.

Lightkeepers often rowed out to sea, even in a storm, to save the lives of any persons whose boat had capsized. Over her 33 years of tending the Robbins Reef Light, Katie accomplished 55 rescues.

Katie continued in her job until 1919, being one of the 142 women who had been granted official lighthouse keeper status between 1830 and 1947, with a mandatory retirement age of 71. Their names and backgrounds are as varied as the lighthouse locations where they lived. And although all of them were required to keep daily log books, very few of those have survived, so we don’t know the personal recollections of their lives.

Katie retired to Staten Island at age 73, with the Robbins Reef Light permanently in her view. She spent the last years of her life often walking to the shore, listening to the seagulls, and feeling the water spray on her face. She passed away at age 83 and is buried in Ocean View Cemetery.

The next time I see a lighthouse, I will think of Katie Walker and her 141 sisters who dedicated their lives to providing safe passage in the middle of the night to those who venture upon the rolling waters.

Strong Women

If you enjoyed Katie’s story and are not yet a follower of this blog, please sign up on the right. And if you want to read a book on women lightkeepers, look for Mind the Light, Katie by Mary Louise Clifford and J. Candace Clifford.

As I work on my next book about strong women, you can also catch me on my webpage at https://www.lindasittig.com, Twitter @LHsittig, Instagram at LHsittig, and Facebook as Linda Sittig.

My novels about strong women can be found in bookstores as well as online. Cut From Strong Cloth, Last Curtain Call, and Counting Crows. By August, my newest book, B-52 Down!, should also be available.

~ Linda

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Kate Warne: The Detective Who Refused to Quit

Posted on June 1, 2021 by lhsittig@verizon.net

By Linda Harris Sittig

Courtesy Library of Congress

Today the threat of cyber-security is on many people’s minds as criminals hack into our privacy. But back in the 1800s, the security business was usually a male-dominated world.

Until 1856.

That year, a slender, brown-haired young woman walked into the Chicago office of Allan Pinkerton. She was there, she stated, to apply for an advertised job in the newspaper: a detective.

We’ll never know what thoughts raced through Mr. Pinkerton’s mind. But perhaps – a woman? She’s a slight wisp, and who could she possibly apprehend?

Kate Warne, however, had come prepared.

“I am a widow, and as a woman, I can worm out secrets in many places that male detectives could not gain access to.”

At 23, Kate’s past was not well known except her widowhood. But she carried herself with self-confidence mixed with a dash of poise. Pinkerton decided to take a chance and hired her. She became the first female detective in the United States.

Kate’s first assignment was to leave Chicago for Montgomery, Alabama. Once there, she was to take on the case of the Adams Express Company Embezzlement. Mr. Maroney, an expressman with the company, had managed to steal $50,000 of company funds. Kate promptly went to work, camouflaging her northern accent to sound more like a southern belle, and befriended Mrs. Maroney. As Kate and the wife attended social functions together, Kate gleaned evidence. From her ‘friendship’ with the wife, Kate led to Maroney’s conviction and to a ten-year sentence in an Alabama prison.

Pinkerton was impressed, and in 1860 he told Kate he was putting her in charge of his newly created Female Detective Bureau.

Her time in the South became another asset. In 1861 when all America was deeply divided over the factors that led to civil unrest, Pinkerton handed Kate her most important case.

Pinkerton had uncovered rumors of a plot to assassinate President-elect Abraham Lincoln on the way to his inauguration. Lincoln scoffed at the stories and refused to change his already-published schedule of an 11-day rail tour from Illinois to Washington D.C. via Baltimore.

Kate dispatched herself to Baltimore, dressed in Southern garb, including a secessionist black and white cockade pinned to her outfit. She did worm her way into parties at the Barnum City Hotel, known as Southern sympathy headquarters.

At the parties, she heard of the plans to assassinate the President, specifically that it would happen in Baltimore when the President would step off his train from Illinois and transfer to another train bound to Washington.

Kate wasted no time in alerting Allan Pinkerton and suggesting she could help.

She went to Philadelphia and bought four train tickets for the sleeper berths on a regular passenger Philadelphia to Baltimore bound train. After his staff finally convinced Lincoln of the legitimate plot, Lincoln agreed that his private secretary, John George Nicolay, would assist in a scheme to keep Lincoln out of harm.

On February 22, 1861, while en route to Washington, Lincoln’s Illinois train stopped in Harrisburg, PA, where Lincoln got off to attend a high-profile dinner. In the middle of the meal, his secretary (John George Nicolay) interrupted the dinner party to excuse Lincoln. In a separate room, Lincoln changed clothes to look like an ordinary traveler and carried a woolen shawl over his arm to appear as an invalid. As soon as Lincoln left Harrisburg, Pinkerton had all nearby telegraph lines cut.

Late that night at the Philadelphia train station, Kate Warne entered the back of the Baltimore bound train and flagged down a conductor. She needed a favor because she would be traveling with her “invalid brother,” who would retire immediately to his sleeper berth and remain there. No other passengers needed to be allowed to venture to the back of the train. The conductor nodded in agreement.

When the disguised Lincoln finally appeared in the car, Kate greeted him as if he were her invalid brother.

Throughout the night, Kate remained by Lincoln’s side as the passenger train sped from Philadelphia to Wilmington and then to Baltimore. Kate disembarked in Baltimore while Lincoln’s sleeping car was detached from the train, then pulled by horses to the Camden Street station, and recoupled to a new southbound train.

Abraham Lincoln finally arrived at 6 a.m, February 22 in Washington D.C., safe and sound for his upcoming inauguration.

Kate turned 28 a months later.

 In the years to follow, Kate continued to work for the Pinkerton Agency as one of their more illustrious detectives. She assisted Pinkerton in procuring intelligence work for the Union Army, and after the Civil War, she worked on high-profile cases of robbery and murder.

Kate would succumb in 1868 to “congestion of the lungs,” most likely tuberculosis at the young age of 35, and buried at the Pinkerton family plot in Chicago.

It would take until 1891 before women in America were able to join any police force, and 1910 before they could become officers.

But it was Kate Warne who had paved the way.

One strong woman.

Thank you to blog followers Jerry Moore and Eileen Rice for suggesting I ‘investigate’ Kate’s life.

If you enjoyed Kate Warne’s story and would like to follow the Strong Women in History blog each month, please sign up on the right-hand sidebar.

You can also catch me on Twitter or Instagram @LHsittig, or FaceBook as Linda Sittig, and my webpage at www.lindasittig.com.

In addition to my three novels of historical fiction: Cut From Strong Cloth, Last Curtain Call, and Counting Crows… I have a brand new book coming out this summer. It’s a non-fiction account titled B-52 Down! The Night the Bombs Fell from the Sky.

Stay tuned!

~ Linda

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Leonie von Zesch: More Than Just a Pretty Smile

Posted on May 1, 2021 by lhsittig@verizon.net

I can not fathom what it would be like to put my fingers in peoples’ mouths all day long searching for cavities and other dental problems. That career takes a combination of professionalism, dedication, and compassion.

Before 1900, almost all dentists in America were men. And very few of them ever practiced out of a Model T car amid the rural populations of Arizona.

But Leonie von Zesch did.

Born in 1882 in Texas, Leonie managed to find her way to California and graduate in 1902 from the College of Physicians and Surgeons in San Francisco. At first, she worked for and with other dentists who already had established practices. Her reputation grew as a hard worker and skilled dental physician.

Leonie’s Life Changing Event

Then on April 18, 1906, Leonie and her mother were awakened by the unworldly experience of having their house tremble, then shake violently. Quickly realizing that an earthquake was about to occur, the two women sought shelter. The 1906 San Francisco earthquake was one of the deadliest on record. More than 28,000 buildings lay in ruins, and fires spread out of control for three days. Leonie and her mother joined other refugees at a US Army field hospital.

Both women quickly volunteered: Mrs. Von Zesch helped the Red Cross, and Leonie offered her service as a dentist. She would be the first female dentist to work for the US Army.

For the next three months, Leonie worked out of many army tents repurposed as field hospitals. She provided dental service to hundreds of earthquake victims. Once the city of San Francisco formally took over the relief efforts, the city found a male dentist to replace her.

Ahem.

Once the clean-up from the earthquake had passed, Leonie looked for ways to open a practice. Both solid real estate and dental tools were hard to come by, so she took a job working as a dentist in the Children’s Hospital of San Francisco and planned to save as much as possible to establish a practice. Working at the children’s hospital spurred Leonie to make children’s dental health a priority.

Still, without a practice, Leonie decided to leave San Francisco in 1908 to seek an area of the country where she would be valued. She returned to her hometown of Mason, Texas, and opened for business.

Then in 1912, when her mother decided to return to San Francisco, Leonie went to visit Winslow, Arizona, and help treat some of the residents who needed better dental services. She agreed to a three-week stay and ended up living and working there for three years instead.

While in Winslow, Leonie realized that people who live in isolated rural areas do not have the luxury of regular dental visits. So, she bought a Model T car, packed up all her dental tools, and took off to the open road with her self-equipped mobile office.

She would stop at Native American reservations and small outposts to treat anyone who needed dental work and provided free dental services to children. She would spend weeks along dirt roads and then return monthly to her practice in Winslow.

Alaska Beckons

In 1915 Leonie’s sister, living in Alaska, invited Leonie to come for a visit. Once again, she fell in love with a new open land and decided to stay in Cordova, Alaska, and offer dental services. Eventually, Alaska became her permanent home.

She left only for a short time to complete dental post-graduate work in Illinois. When she returned to Cordova, the local dentist died from the 1918 Flu Pandemic. Leonie promptly bought his office and equipment and set up shop.

In the years to come, Leonie would move to Anchorage and Nome. She traded her experience with the Model T for a mobile dental service via dogsled!

By the 1930s, Leonie had relocated back to California. America had plunged into the Great Depression, and very few people had the money for dental visits. Undeterred, Leonie persevered.

In 1933 she took a job with President Roosevelt’s CCC (Civilian Conservation Corps), where she provided dental care to over 4,000 young men who had hired on to help maintain parks and roads in rural areas.

Her last job was in Tehachapi, California, where she became the leading dentist for the California Institute for Women – a women’s prison.

Leonie died in 1944 at the age of 61, after having blazed the way for other women to enter the field of dentistry.

Undeniably, one strong woman! Thank you to Memed Nurrohmad for the Pixabay image. And if you enjoyed Leonie’s story and are not yet a follower of this monthly blog, please sign up on the right sidebar.

You can catch up with me on my website – www.lindasittig.com or Twitter @LHsittig or Facebook as Linda Sittig. My current three novels, Cut From Strong Cloth, Last Curtain Call, and Counting Crows, are available in stand-alone bookstores and online.

Right now, I am hard at work finishing up edits on my next two books! Stay tuned to learn more, and in the meantime, remember to brush and floss!

~ Linda

Dr. Frank Dunne, this month’s blog is dedicated to you😊

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Bertha Benz: the Woman Who Taught Us How to Drive

Posted on April 1, 2021 by lhsittig@verizon.net

By Linda Harris Sittig

You Won't Believe The Power & Top Speed Of The World's First Automobile — The Benz Patent-Motorwagen - DriveSpark News

On a travel poster for Southwestern Germany, you might see images of rolling hills, verdant pastures, and ancient stone castles. Vineyards, quaint villages, and the entrance to the Black Forest are not far away.

But neither is a historic route that changed the future of humanity, thanks to Bertha Ringer Benz.

Born in 1849 to a wealthy family in the area called Baden, Bertha met Karl Benz when she was a teen.

At age 21, she granted him a portion of her dowry to invest in an iron construction company. The company failed, but the love interest did not. Two years later, in 1872, Bertha Ringer married Karl Benz, and they settled in the town of Mannheim.

As Karl attempted various inventions, he often fell back on the financial support of his wife. Bertha did not mind. She was, by all accounts, an intelligent woman. However, Bertha was also a visionary. She saw the possibilities in his ideas.

In 1885 Karl finished work on his horseless carriage, which he called his Motorwagen. Together with Bertha as his muse and business partner, he applied for a patent in 1886. Under German law at that time, Bertha could not be named as a co-inventor on the patent.

Bertha instinctively knew the Motorwagen could transform transportation. Karl, however, was a perfectionist and would not allow the car out in public, except for very short distances.

One bright summer morning in 1888, as dawn broke on the horizon, Bertha quietly gathered their two oldest children, 13-year-old Eugen, and 12-year-old Richard. They tiptoed out of the house and silently pushed the Motorwagen out into the street. Good-bye, Mannheim! They were on their way!

Bertha planned to motor to her mother’s house in Pforzheim, a distance of 106 km (66 miles) southeast. Remember that in 1888, rural roads were mostly dirt, maps for distance travel were few and far between, and of course, there were no gas stations!

Bertha knew she would become a spectacle along the route. People would marvel at the Motorwagen and talk about the woman driving it. A sly smile spread across her face as she steered the Motorwagen out of town.

The car she drove was the Model III, which only had two gears, no fuel tank, and a 4.5 litre (1.18 gallons) supply of petrol in the carburetor.

They were not far into their journey when Bertha had to stop for more petrol. The only substance available was ligroin, a petroleum solvent, and it was only available at apothecary (pharmacy) shops. The trip then involved stopping at many apothecary shops along the way.

Later they developed a problem with the wooden brakes, so Bertha stopped at a cobbler’s shop and asked him to fit the brakes with leather strips – thus inventing brake linings. Each time they stopped, Bertha made notes about the problems they encountered and how she fixed them.

Later the fuel line became clogged. Bertha stopped the vehicle, inspected the problem, and then jabbed her long hat pin into the valve to open the clog. It would take Bertha 12 hours to travel the 66 miles to her mother’s house, and yes, all along the way, people stopped and stared at the incredible sight of a motor carriage without horses!

Once she arrived at Pforzheim, Bertha sent Karl a telegram, announcing that she and the boys and the Motorwagen were safe. She also revealed to Karl that he would have to build an additional gear because she and the boys had to push the Motorwagen up the steep hills!

Her innate sense for marketing and her trip, the first of its kind, generated a tremendous amount of publicity. Bertha had made her mark. But just as important, she helped to improve her husband’s invention of the gas-powered car.

In 1906 Karl and Bertha moved their operation to Ladenburg, where she and Karl established a family automobile business. Eventually, Karl merged his company with the DMG Company, and after Karl died in 1929, the company became known familiarly as Mercedes Benz.

Bertha continued to motor behind the wheel well into her old age and died in 1944, two days after her 95th birthday. Today, the Bertha Benz Memorial Route allows tourists to follow Bertha’s groundbreaking journey from Mannheim to Pforzheim and imagine her trip in 1888. Check out this link on YouTube for a glimpse into history: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vsGrFYD5Nfs. It is called Bertha Benz: the Journey That Changed Everything.

While Bertha Ringer Benz was the first person to market the idea of a test drive, she also propelled the automobile industry into mankind’s future. One Strong Woman!

Thank you, Barb Anderson, of North Carolina, for sharing Bertha’s story with me.

As we move into spring, you can catch me on https://www.lindasittig.com or Twitter @LHsittig, Facebook as linda sittig, Instagram @LHsittig, and LinkedIn. I am anticipating the publication of two new books this year, and am mulling over an idea for a fourth book in the Threads of Courage Series, available in bookstores and online.

~ Linda

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Mary Eliza Mahoney: Determined to Overcome Medical Training Prejudice

Posted on March 1, 2021 by lhsittig@verizon.net

by Linda Harris Sittig

In 1985 my father lay immobile in a hospital bed in Florida, a viral infection victim with Guillain Barré.  For a 71-year-old previously healthy and active man, we were all in shock that his body had turned against him.

My brother and I had flown to Florida to talk with the doctors so that we could understand my dad’s prognosis. Because neither of us was in the medical-health field, we found the doctors compassionate but sometimes hard to understand in layman’s terms of what was happening. But we were told my dad’s nurse would come in shortly and answer any further questions.

Enter the nurse.

Up to this point in my life, I had never really thought much about nurses. Throughout my early years and young adulthood, they all looked strikingly the same, female and white.

When Nurse Paul entered the room, I’m sure I had a surprised look on my face. I do remember saying, “Are you the nurse?”

Paul turned out to be more than a nurse; he became our resident angel, taking care of both my father and my brother and me. When my father finally left the I.C.U, Nurse Paul had become a part of my life and forever changed my stereotypical image of nurses.

Now enter Mary Eliza Mahoney.

At the age of 34, Mary Mahoney was the first African-American woman to earn a professional nursing degree and become a full-time licensed nurse. The year was 1879.

Mary Eliza’s parents were freed slaves who left North Carolina before the Civil War. They headed for New England and the chance for their children to receive a proper education. Born in 1845 in Boston, Massachusetts, Mary Eliza was the oldest of her three siblings. Her parents later enrolled her at the nearby Phillips School, one of America’s first integrated educational institutions.

By the time Mary Eliza was a teen, she felt drawn to nursing and decided to take a job at the New England Hospital for Women and Children in nearby Roxbury. She took the only jobs offered, janitor, cook, and washerwoman for someone with no professional training. Her dedication led her to become a nurse’s aide, and that was how she began to educate herself about the nursing profession.

The New England Hospital for Women and Children was highly unusual since the doctors were all female. Mary Eliza flourished in an atmosphere dedicated to the health and well-being of women and children.

In 1862 The New England Hospital for Women and Children opened one of the first nursing schools in the United States. After working at the hospital for 15 years, Mary Eliza applied for admission to the nursing program.

The program was intense, but at age 33, Mary Eliza dug in her heels and persisted in her studies. She spent her 16 hour days attending lectures and classes and participating in first-hand experiences with patients in the hospital wards. Of course, it helped that she had already had over a decade of knowledge working at the hospital.

After the program ended, only four of the original  42 students who had started together finished to graduate. Mary Eliza was one of those four and the only African-American. And this is how she became the first African-American woman to earn a professional nursing license.

Then the question became, where would she work?

In 1879 the United States was still in the grip of post-Civil War sentiments, and racial prejudice ran high in the field of public nursing. So Mary Eliza set out to pursue a career in private nursing.

For the next 30 years, Mary Eliza focused on the needs of her clients. Because of her skills, knowledge, and professionalism, she was sought out by many of Boston’s prestigious families.

Then, in 1896 Mary joined the Nurses Associated Alumnae of the United States (today the American Nurses Association). This group, however, was predominantly white and slow to accept Negro nurses. Mary waited till 1909 and then helped to form the National Association of Colored Graduate Nurses. At the NACGN’s first national conference a year later, Mary Eliza was asked to give the opening speech.

In 1911 she decided to use her nursing talents in a new way. She became the Director for the Howard Orphanage Asylum for Black Children located in Long Island, New York.

When she finally retired from nursing, Mary Eliza turned her energy and interests into the suffrage movement. When the 19th Amendment passed in 1920, Mary Eliza was one of the first women to register to vote in Boston. She died from breast cancer six years later at the age of 80.

Ten years later, the National Association for Colored Graduate Nurses established the Mary Mahoney Award in honor of the woman who had given her entire life to others. The American Nurses Association still bestows that award today.

 I can only think that Mary Eliza would have been a wonderful nurse for my dad, but then again, so was Paul.

March is the month to celebrate Women’s History, and to all the Strong Women out there, we say Cheers!

If you are not yet a follower of Strong Women, please sign up on the right-hand sidebar and encourage your friends to follow us, too. In the meantime, you can also catch me on Twitter @lhsittig, FaceBook, Instagram, and LinkedIn. My three novels of historical fiction featuring Strong Women are Cut From Strong Cloth, Last Curtain Call, and Counting Crows. They are available in bookstores and online.

Wishing you health and peace in 2021.

~ Linda

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Anna Asbury Stone: Courageous American Patriot

Posted on February 1, 2021 by lhsittig@verizon.net

by Linda Harris Sittig

What would you do if you found out your two brothers and your husband, all three serving in the Continental Army, had run out of food and supplies, and your brothers were sick, encamped 200 miles from you?

Naturally, you would be upset, concerned, maybe even frustrated. But would you consider leaving your three young children to ride horseback over 200 miles of rough terrain to bring aid to your brothers and husband?

Anna Asbury Stone did just that.

Anna’s Story

Born on Oct. 6, 1747, in Stafford County, Virginia, Anna became accustomed at an early age to step up to the plate. When her father died young and left Anna’s mother and siblings without enough income to survive, Anna’s family went to live with an uncle.

When Anna was 11, the uncle farmed her out as an indentured servant to a well-to-do family in the county for seven years.

But well-to-do does not necessarily equate with kindness.

When Anna worked as an indentured servant, she became friends with the African cook, who also served as a healer on the plantation. From Rhoda, the African woman, Anna learned invaluable lessons about cooking and using age-old techniques for treating the sick.

When Anna returned to her uncle’s house at 18, she met and fell in love with the new Baptist preacher, Benjamin Stone. They married and started a family and lived a simple rural life in Fauquier County, VA.

But then history intervened. The American colonies began to rebel against the tyranny of King George of England. Benjamin Stone felt it was his patriotic duty to volunteer as a chaplain to the Continental Army.

By December of 1777, George Washington’s troops were ensconced at Valley Forge, PA, for their winter quarters. Living in tents or crudely constructed huts, poorly clothed, and not enough food, diseases became rampant. The most feared was smallpox.

When Anna receives the letter from her husband, attesting to the problematic situation and the news that both her brothers are in a nearby field hospital sick with the pox, Anna does not hesitate.

Within days she is saddled on her horse with multiple saddlebags and bundles filled with men’s winter clothing and food provisions.

Her 200-mile trek from Fauquier County, VA, to Valley Forge is over treacherous terrain for a woman riding alone, especially in winter. More than once, she fends off would-be attackers.

The Plot Against General George Washington

When Anna reaches York, PA, she receives a packet of letters intended for General George Washington. The hope is that the British will not suspect a woman carrier. One of the letters discloses a plot by a small group of founding fathers bent on Washington’s removal so that a new leader who would favor trade with Britain be installed.

Her journey takes two weeks, but she arrives at Valley Forge to tend to her sick brothers and husband. She also delivers the letters to General Washington. Once her brothers seem to be on the mend, Anna sets out again on horseback, but this time to return home.

The American Revolution would drag on for an additional six years before the colonies achieved their goal of complete independence from Great Britain.

Benjamin Stone returns home to Anna and continues his life as a Baptist preacher. Their marriage is ultimately blessed with a total of eleven children. Anna never again rode on such a journey as the trip to Valley Forge. Still, when American women had virtually no freedoms for themselves, Anna learned that she could take care of herself and perform duties as a community healer.

Further Reading

If you are interested in Anna’s full story, look for Answering Liberty’s Call,  available online and in bookstores, by Tracy Lawson. Today, a D.A.R. chapter in Cambridge, Ohio, is named in honor of Anna Stone, a true American Patriot.

If you enjoyed this brief synopsis of Anna’s story and would like to learn about more strong women from history, sign up on the right sidebar and become a follower of this blog.

You can also learn about more strong women from my three novels, Cut From Strong Cloth, Last Curtain Call, and Counting Crows, all available online and in bookstores. You can learn more about me as an author from www.lindasittig.com or follow me on Twitter @lhsittig and Instagram @lhsittig.

On Feb. 15, from 7 – 8 pm, I will be participating in the 3 Great Books Launch Party on Facebook. Joining with two other authors, we will be sharing the stories behind our novels and open to interactive questions. And, we will be doing giveaways! Please do join in on the fun.

~ Linda

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Judy M. Nash: Educational Mentor by Linda Harris Sittig

Posted on January 4, 2021 by lhsittig@verizon.net
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If we are lucky, each of us gets blessed at least once in our lives with a mentor. A mentor guides us to be the best we can, and encourages us when we fall flat on our face, and steps back out of the limelight so we can shine.

That person for me was Judy M. Nash.

Born in 1935 in New York City, Judy inherited the Yankee spirit of ‘can do’ but added to that the belief that everyone has the right to dream their impossible dream.

Judy earned her undergraduate degree and teacher certification from Marymount College in New York and then pursued a Masters and Doctorate at Catholic University in Washington D.C. She began her professional career in Fairfax County, Virginia, teaching at an elementary school and, within five years, became an assistant principal.

After three years as an assistant, Judy then became a principal. She received one of the oldest, most in need of renovation, elementary schools in Fairfax County. Undaunted, she set about to change the dreary building into a beacon of education and a safe place for children. She was rewarded seven years later by being given a brand-new school to open – Fox Mill Elementary in Herndon, Virginia.

And that is where I came into her story.

I had been a reading teacher at the middle school and high school levels. Because of my graduate degree, I had mostly taught reluctant readers, students who can read but choose not to.

Through trial and error, I learned that riveting stories could persuade students to pick up a book. They only needed to be introduced to the right kinds of stories. But after eleven years, I wanted to try something new.

A good friend who happened to be Judy’s secretary mentioned that I should apply to be the new Fox Mill reading teacher. “But I’ve only ever taught middle school and high school,” I replied.

“You should at least interview. You’ll find that Judy Nash is not your typical principal.”

So, I agreed. I walked into the newly constructed school office at Fox Mill and immediately noticed that all the telephones were yellow. No one in 1980 had yellow phones in schools.

The interview was relatively normal. I picked up right away that Judy was a bright woman who did not shy away from challenges and who had the best interest of the students as her primary goal.

She had my resume on her desk but did not mention the obvious fact that I had never taught elementary school. She concluded the interview by asking me why I thought I would be a good fit at Fox Mill.

I answered that I had spent 11 years teaching reluctant learners and many students who still read at a 3rd or 4th-grade level, even though they were middle and high schoolers.

She countered with, how successful was I?

I replied that I could brag that I had raised test scores, but I thought it was more important that I had turned those students onto reading, hopefully as in lifelong readers.

She thanked me for the interview and said she’d be in contact. Which is the polite way of saying she wasn’t sure if she would offer me the job.

However, a week later, she called and offered me the position. I thanked her and wanted to know why she was willing to take a chance on a secondary teacher to teach reading at her school. She answered, “Because you have a passion for children and reading.”

And so, my odyssey as an elementary reading teacher began. As I worked with Judy, she continually nudged me to seek out new ideas. When I said we should join R.I.F. (Reading is Fundamental) so every student in our building would be able to start their own home library, she didn’t bat an eye. “Figure it out, and I’ll support you.”

When I gently suggested that we could revamp the fourth-grade social studies curriculum to mix literature with stories to bring history to life, she gave me the go-ahead.

When reading in the home was being touted by professionals, Judy asked if we could design a school-wide reading incentive program. A week later, I stepped into her office to announce I wanted to contact Kermit the Frog to be our mascot for the program.

The program, Reading in a Rainbow, was a huge success, and Judy found us airtime on a local Fairfax TV station to bring about further awareness of the importance of parents reading with their children.

For the next three years, I grew exponentially as an educator under her mentorship. At first, she suggested I attend professional educational conferences, and then the next year urged me to submit applications to be a presenter at those same conferences.

What made Judy Nash so special? In words from her obituary….she was a dreamer, an adventurer, and an educator who emboldened her students (and teachers) to live their dreams.

As an educator, her own odyssey took her from Barcelona to Boston, to the U.S. Virgin Islands, Virginia, and finally as a director of education in Newark, Delaware. Along the way, she encouraged both children and adults to become the best they could be.

Irish to the core, she cooked corned beef and cabbage every St. Patrick’s Day for her staff. And she had a love for the sea, sailing whenever she could find the time.

Judy had an energy that drew people to her, and she had a love of life that was contagious.

As I start 2021, I look back on the Strong Women I was graced with in life and count Judy Nash among them. She encouraged me to love my chosen career and always look for new ways of inspiring children.

Judy passed in 2014 after a courageous battle with dementia, but she left behind a legacy that touched thousands of lives.

Judy M. Nash, my epitome of a Strong Woman.

~ Linda

You can also catch me on Twitter @LHsittig, my web page www.lindasittig.com, or on Amazon at www.amzn.com/19405530. My three novels featuring strong women from the past are available at bookstores and online. Cut From Strong Cloth, Last Curtain Call, and Counting Crows. Wishing everyone health and happiness in the new year.

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