ROANOKE TIMES
Copyright (c) 1996, Roanoke Times
DATE: Tuesday, September 3, 1996 TAG: 9609040045
SECTION: EXTRA PAGE: 1 EDITION: METRO
COLUMN: BETH MACY
SOURCE: BETH MACY
The Roanoke Times carries no article about the Aug. 26 anniversary.
Even the hefty Sunday New York Times, where I expect at least to find a mention of it, contains nothing. The cover of its magazine: ``How Do We Look?'' a 128-page section on ... women's fashion.
In honor of the 76th anniversary of women's right to vote, I decide to drive to a quiet neighborhood in Roanoke, to an orderly brick house filled with family mementos and handed-down antiques.
I call Claudine Mayhew several days beforehand to request an interview, but she hesitates. ``Listen, I'm too old. I'm wrinkled and all a sight. It's not right for a woman my age to be in the paper.''
I spend 10 minutes on the phone convincing her that the story needs to be told, for history's sake. When I raise my voice, figuring that age has hindered her hearing, she sets me straight: ``Listen, you don't need to scream in my ear.''
Finally, she relents - though she can't squeeze me in until the next week. Too busy.
She's 97 years old.
Claudine Mayhew cast her ballot in the first Roanoke election in which women were allowed to vote. The year was 1920. She was 21 years old, a student at the old Virginia College in South Roanoke.
``It was November the fourth, and it was snowing to beat the band,'' she recalls. Her mother accompanied her on the walk to the voting booth, which was in a doctor's office a couple blocks from her family home.
She doesn't remember much about the Suffrage Movement leading up to the vote; can't recall the opposition's claims that women voters would: increase the ``irresponsible vote,'' because they would always choose the best-looking candidate; take away from women's duties as wives and mothers; and up the chances of women cavorting with strange men at the polls.
According to Claudine, the Roanoke men at the polls made small talk, but nobody fussed. ``My mother and I were the only women who voted at that particular precinct,'' she says. She's not sure why - maybe most women were uneasy with the newfound privilege.
``My father kept telling me this was a very historic occasion, and I felt real biggety that I was going to vote,'' she says. ``But nobody dressed up. You just went to vote, that's all there was to it.''
She's not sure if there were any local issues on the ballot, but she does recall the man for whom she cast her presidential vote: Warren Harding. ``My father had schooled me on how to vote.'' She says Harding is the only president she regrets voting for: He was caught up in scandal his first year in office and died while traveling during his second year.
She considers herself a Democrat, but has voted both sides of the aisle. Though she follows politics and has never missed a chance to cast her ballot, Claudine bristles at the notion of being called a feminist or a political devotee.
``We live a quiet, ordinary life,'' she says repeatedly. Never married, she's the caretaker of a longtime friend, who is ill.
She worked for Roanoke rayon-maker American Viscose from the mid-'20s to the late-'50s when it closed. A member of the advertising department, she traveled regularly to New York City on business and once took a vacation cruise by herself from California, looping south through the Panama Canal, and up to New York.
Asked if she thought any of this was unusual for women of the times, she shook her head, repeating her line about a quiet, ordinary life.
Though she walks with a cane - which she didn't need at all until age 94, when she fell while gardening - she needs glasses only for close-up reading. Nonetheless, she doesn't think of herself as being extraordinary in any way.
Asked if she could reveal the secret to old age and good health, she snaps: ``I'm sure I couldn't.'' She does divulge that stretching her muscles twice a day helps.
``Listen, old age isn't any fun. We miss our social life, going out in the car.''
She relies on nieces and nephews for most of her errands, including her upcoming trip to the polls, where she will cast her presidential vote - for the 19th time.
Still undecided, she thinks if Bob Dole wins, it'll be thanks to his wife Elizabeth. ``It's too bad the wives aren't running for president,'' she says. ``I'd vote for either one of them.
``I think voting is a privilege and it's necessary, even more so for women,'' she adds. ``They do more now than men do anyway.''
It's the most political thing she says during our 90-minute conversation. But for a 97-year-old woman who leads a quiet, ordinary life, actions speak louder than words.
Come Nov. 5, Lord willing, she'll carry to the polls a 76-year legacy of a woman's right - and responsibility - to cast her vote.
LENGTH: Medium: 88 linesby CNB