Ep 27 - Mary Chamberlain Pt 1: 🗳️Election Meddling, 👗Modest Skirts & Repo Cattle🐮

In the dusty crossroads town of Kanab, Utah, the year was 1911—and democracy was about to get a surprise makeover. What began as a satirical prank by frustrated young men turned into the most unexpected political shake-up in frontier history: the election of an all-woman town council.

Part one of this dramatized two-part episode sets the stage with a cast of formidable frontier women, flustered cowboys, tormented marshals, and cattle in the crosshairs. We unpack the fiery election, local newspaper feuds, livestock on the lam, and the first tremors of change in a town that didn’t know what hit it. Featuring real journal entries, historical detail, period sound design, and that AM radio drama flair you love.

From slingshot bans to citywide moo-hem, the petticoats are here—and they didn’t come to knit.

Transcript

NARRATOR:

“The year was 1911… when the world felt on the edge of something electric.”

“Ronald Reagan was born. So was the Chevrolet Motor Company. Ty Cobb led the majors in batting average. In Paris, a house painter stole the Mona Lisa. In New York, a man leapt from a burning 10-story building—the Triangle Shirtwaist fire—and landed in the headlines instead of the pavement.”

“Europe was crackling with the fusework of war. South Pole explorers were racing death. In China, a revolution was ending a dynasty older than Rome.”

“And here in America—while the Wright brothers argued over patents and the Titanic was still being painted—Congress admitted Arizona and New Mexico into the Union. The 47th and 48th stars.”

NARRATOR :

“It was a year of comets and cowards, of crowned heads and corner stores. A year where everything—everywhere—seemed to be shifting underfoot.”

NARRATOR :

“And in a sandstone pocket of Southern Utah, on the edge of nowhere, a town called Kanab—population 900—was about to make its own mark on history…”

NARRATOR :

“Not with a war per se. Nor with an invention. But with a prank…thats right, a little mischievery. Those “loafers of the ditchbank”, as Mary Howard called them…well, they decided to have a little fun with the local elections. Some “tom foolery” that would cause an unintended landslide of changes to the town, and a legend of nationwide proportions…that is still heralded to this day. 

🎙️ Scene 3 – Election Interference

NARRATOR :

“In the summer of 1911, Kanab, Utah was a fine place… if you were a cow, owned a fast horse, had a fear of bath water, enjoyed a rowdy Sunday, or were a thirsty cowboy headed southbound to visit John Stine just across the Arizona State line. John was the bishop of sorts, of the church of the holy fire water.”

NARRATOR:

“Kanab’s dirt streets had become an obstacle course of stray livestock and wagon ruts. Kids played hopscotch beside bootleggers. And local shopkeepers were starting to wonder if that smell of horse biscuits and cow pancakes was the new normal.”

Heber J Meeks: afternoon Lewis.

LEWIS JEPSON: Hello President Meeks. 

HEBER: How’s the Jepson boys doing lately?

LEWIS: fine fine. Del’s gonna be 12 next year.

HEBER: is he?

LEWIS: Yeppers. Growing like stink weeds they are.

HEBER: how’s the ice cream business? 

LEWIS: Not too bad for the summer months. Come fall I’ll be headed back out with the livestock. Winters aren’t so good for ice cream sales, and the livestock need tending constantly it seems. 

HEBER: it must be a comfort to have a woman like Vinnie at home with those young-ins? Clarissa has always praised her devotion to motherhood. 

LEWIS: She might be small, but she’s 100% mother bear. She is undoubtedly my greatest blessing. Speaking of blessings…it’s nice to have you and the family in town Heber. Orderville’s loss is certainly our gain. Even if it requires you livin in the “Haunted Bunting House” for a bit.

HEBER:  yeah, we don’t mind it. Someone’s gotta keep Alma’s ghost company…and our new house outta be ready to move in by the end of October. If’n weather and work cooperate.

LEWIS: I’ll pray for that.

HEBER: Say Lewis, is it a Kanab thing to have stray cattle, dogs and donkeys just a wandering through town? I had a pickle of an incident with a neighbors milk cow the other day. 

LEWIS: It is a problem. The frequency will never make it normal for me. There were 2 steers and a curious heifer outside this morning, blocked the whole storefront. The heifers chewed half the millinery catalog before I could shoo her off.”

Vinnie: “Well, better a cow chewing catalogs than one of them boys chewin’ tobacco on the flour sacks again…good afternoon President Meeks. 

HEBER: hello Sister Jepson.

VINNIE: Our town board—God bless ’em—aint bad men. They are just tired. Tired of meetings. Tired of complaints. Tired of trying to make order out of cattle & cards.

HEBER: seems that way. You got elections coming up this autumn. Maybe there’ll be some fresh horses put in the race. 

VINNIE: I hope so. A council with a sense of smell and a backbone. The streets are more fertilized than most gardens in town. Them durn cows and dogs got more freedoms than we do. 

NARRATOR:

“Beneath the surface, the real tension wasn’t just about the free range livestock or even the bootleg liquorin—it was generational. A pack of restless younger men. The “loafers of the ditchbank” as they were referred to— a perfect term for the idle-tongued chorus of grumbling cowhands, drifters, and porch sitters who would’ve turned any town ordinance into a punchline. But the lack of enforced ordinances was a joke in itself. These loafers were tired of watching their fathers and uncles run the town—were itching to shake things up.”

And that’s when it happened. 

A newspaper (war of words) war erupted in the summer of 1911, shortly after Charles Townsend acquired the Lone Cedar newspaper. He started printing opinions that raised a few too many eyebrows. One-sided, hot-headed editorials that poked at old-guard leaders like E.D. Woolley, D.D. Rust, and W.W. Seegmiller.”

OLD MAN :

“He’s got no right publishin’ that. He calls it journalism—I call it blasphemy and buncombe (bun-kum).”

NARRATOR:

“Woolley and his allies struck back—bought the paper out from under him, renamed it the Kane County News, and installed Mary Chamberlain’s brother-in-law, D.D. Rust, as the editor.”

NARRATOR:

“Townsend didn’t quit. He founded the Kane County Independent, sparking a newspaper rivalry that split Kanab in two.”

NARRATOR:

“By fall, every hitchin post in town had an opinion. Shopkeepers took sides. Church folk whispered. Even barbershops became battlegrounds.”

“Somewhere between the newsprint and the whisky, an idea took hold. A joke, really. A prank.”

Frank: Hey Joe. I brought us a little something to take the edge off of the summer heat.

Joe: Son of a biscuit Frank. We’re in Utah. You cant do that in broad daylight. I’ll stick to my apples…want one?

Frank: No thanks….You know what’s worse than biting into an apple and finding a worm?

Joe: there’s something worse than that?

Frank: Biting into that apple and finding only half a worm…LOL

John Stine: Is it more painful for a woman to be birthin a child, or a man getting kicked in the huevos rancheros?

Joe: What kind of question is that John? I dont think your cornbread is done in the middle Mr Stine. Either that or you been having marriage conversations with Sally again.

John Stine: I wish.

Frank: it’s a fair question

JOE: it is?

FRANK: well yeah, just think on it….i aint never known a man who’d been conkled in the crawdads who’d come back 9 months later and say….yeah, I’d go through that again. So i guess that answers it. 

FRANK: “Speaking of the nut cracker ballet, them old timers need to be kicked where the good Lord split em so they’ll wake up and manage this town as we see fit, maybe it’s time for us to make things worse for them.”

JOE:Dont piss down my back and tell me it’s rainin Frank. Just say it plain. What kinda sabotage we talking about?

FRANK: “We got elections coming up this fall. 

JOE: Yeah?

FRANK: Let’s nominate their wives. Their daughters. That’ll rattle their prayer meeting.”

JOE: “You serious? That’d be disastrous! If brains were leather, they couldn’t saddle a June bug. 

FRANK: Exactly Joe!

JOHN: Exactly what? I’m fairly certain your driveway stops just shy of the road Frank. I don’t think them ladies got enough starch in em for a handkerchief…it’s a certain disaster?

FRANK: Bingo John!

JOHN: oh….well ain’t you Beelzebub’s nephew. Now i smell what you’re stepping in. 

FRANK : “Just imagine their faces come election day…”

JOE: Doggone it Frank. You are drunk with scandalous thinking. You better give me a swig of whatever’s in that jug before I think this through. 

🎙️ Scene 4: “Names in Ink”

MARY

Well now, if it isn’t Mr. George Mace. How’s the mule deer wrangler these days?

GEORGE

Afternoon, Mary. I figured I’d better stop in before you sold the last of that licorice rope. My dear pregnant Ada Mae won’t let me come home without it.

MARY 

Ain’t she about to pop George? 

GEORGE: Yes ma’am. Any day now. This will be our first. 

MARY: Wonderful George. This round of pregnancy cravings are on me. Tell Ada it’s a gift from me, and that I am praying for her and the baby…

Licorice is under the counter. I keep it hidden from the young ruffians who think they can trade eggs for sugary treats.

GEORGE: Speaking of ruffians, did I see a buffalo calf galloping around your father’s yard this morning?

MARY: You sure did.

GEORGE: I thought maybe Crosby’s donkey had bread your gurney milk cow.

MARY :That one’s Royal’s pride and joy. Father hauled it home from his buffalo herd at House Rock valley…in a sewing machine crate. It sleeps with the lambs and drinks out of the same trough as the pigeons. If it gets any friendlier, we’ll have to register it for school.

GEORGE :I’d pay a dollar to see that. Still… I imagine it’s easier to house-train than some of the help I’ve had.

MARY: How many deer you got now?

GEORGE: Thirty-seven head. Government pays thirty-five dollars a deer—less than they’re worth, but more than I made shipping freight.

MARY:Well, you always had a touch for the wild ones. Even as a boy. I remember when you tried to hatch a hawk egg under your sister’s chicken.

GEORGE:And I remember her catching me.

EDWIN:Mary, I just came from town hall. There’s news.

MARY:Something wrong father?

EDWIN:Well, that depends on your perspective of wrong…You, Blanche, Tamar, Vinnie Jepson, and young Luella McAllister…have all been officially listed as candidates for the Kanab town board.

MARY:Come again? Candidates for what?

EDWIN:Your names are on the printed ballot. The men say it was all in jest—but it’s legal. And unless someone mounts a formal objection, it’ll stand.

GEORGE :You mean we’ll be governed by aprons and prayer meetings? No offense Mary.

MARY :Would that be so bad? And i object being nominated against my will.

EDWIN:I came to tell you first. You’ve got a good name in this town, Mary. Even if it’s not the one on the ballot.

MARY : So… what happens if we dont object…and we win?

EDWIN :Then you’d best be ready to govern.

GEORGE :Well, if nothing else, maybe the new council can finally leash up those strays from Fried Onion, AZ… before they eat my garden again.

MARY :Fried Onion? Is that what you call that Fredonia settlement? 

GEORGE: I dont know why they ditched the name HardScrabble for Fredonia. Fried Onions seems to be the best tasting of the three. 

MARY:Kanab might be full of cows, George. But at least it’s not called Fried Onions.

NARRATOR 

“And just like that… history was set in motion by a dare, a chuckle, and 5 names nominated for the ballot.”

“Not one of those women asked for it. But when duty called—they didn’t blink.”

What began as a joke over dinner tables and ditchbank snickers…was about to become the most talked-about election in Utah.

In the winter of 1912, the all-woman town council of Kanab, Utah seized more than votes. They seized contraband. They seized headlines. And they seized the town’s patience—one ordinance at a time.

What followed was enforcement, backlash… and a story.

A tale of liquor. Stray dogs & cattle. Sanitary expectations. Of quilting women on horseback.

And of a saloon that — if you believe one old-timer — rolled away on logs every time a torch-bearing posse of women rode over the rise.

But the truth of all that? That’s a little harder to pin down. And near impossible to prove. There’s “some” truth, mingled with wild storytelling. 

SCENE 5 Panic. Let’s Begin.

NARRATOR

Along the dusty edge of town, under the shade of scrub willows and the lean of a half-rotted corral post, the self-proclaimed “Loafers of the Ditch Bank” gathered for their regular symposium: hat brims low, boots kicked out, and their opinion of local politics—unfiltered as always.

FRANK I still can’t believe they actually printed the ballot. I thought the printer’d sober up before it came to that.

JOE Nah, this town’s run on sorghum molasses and bad ideas. I say let ‘em. It’ll blow over quicker than a dust devil.

JOHN STINE My money’s on Blanche for dog catcher. She’s already got half the mutts in town following her.

FRANK Hey, watch your mouth. She’s my relate. Only i can talk smack about Blanche.

JOE If they really do take office, I swear I’ll put petticoats on my mules and register them to vote.

FRANK Come on, boys. Nobody’s really gonna let ‘em govern. This was just a prank. A good one, too.

JOHN STINE:Seriously Frank…You gotta get some axle grease on that windmill of yours. It’s beginning to creep me out.

FRANK:Be my guest Mr Stine. Everytime i come down here to check on the cattle the wind wont stop blowin. And I aint about to be chopped into bits over a little squeaking.

JOHN: A little? I think your hearing’s going out Frank.

JOE Here’s to prankin’—and the ladies who’ll laugh it off come New Year’s.

JOHN STINE What’s the worst that could happen?

NARRATOR

But it didn’t blow over. Not by New Year’s.

And not when Mary Chamberlain—now living under the alias Mary Howard—stood in her parlor on January 2, 1912, smoothing the lace at her collar, knowing the joke had run too far to be reversed.

The old board stepped down with grins and shrugs. And five women—mothers all—were now, officially, the town council of Kanab, Utah.

MARY:I should’ve baked something. That always makes meetings easier.

TAMAR:Only if it’s your molasses bread again, Mary. 

MARY:Oh Tamar, you know i’d have made a loaf just for you. 

BLANCHE :You hush, Tamar. She feeds half the town. Let’s give her a day off.

VINNIE:Does anyone actually know what a council chair does?

LUELLA:It means you get the papers dumped in your lap and everyone knocks on your door when the cows wander through the schoolyard.

ADA:Well then, I nominate Mary. She’s already the one people talk to. She might as well hold the hammer.

MARY:Ladies—wait—don’t be absurd. I’m not—

TAMAR :Too late. I Second that Motion.

VINNIE:All in favor?

ALL:Aye.

MARY:Well… may God help us. Let’s begin.

NARRATOR

Well there they were…Five women and one reluctant council chair. The prank had turned into a promise.

And the town of Kanab, whether it was ready or not, had just voted in the most unexpected government in Utah history.

“The winter of 1912 marked one of the coldest Januaries on record across the country. In Kanab, Utah, the air cut through coats as the new council gathered on January 2, 1912. Outside, cottonwoods were covered in frost, and breath curled like ghost stories. Inside, five determined women faced not just civic duty—but the cold realities of weather, and governing, shoulder to shoulder in a council chamber warmed by a fire and resolve.”

The new year in Kanab didn’t just begin with resolutions—it also began with a resignation.

MARY: “Vinnie, I know you had something you wanted to say…”

VINNIE : “I can’t serve at this time. Lewis is back on cattle contracts which puts him away from home more than we’d all like, and the boys—well, they need me more than Kanab does right now.”

BLANCHE: “We’ll miss your voice, Vinnie.”

MARY: “We accept your honorable resignation Vinnie. I, for one, admire your duty to family above all else. 

I motion that we nominate Ada Seegmiller to take the fifth seat?”

BLANCHE: I second that motion.

MARY: All in favor say “Aye”

NARRATOR :

“And so it was: midwife, mother, and wife of the Stake President Seegmiller—Ada was selected to fill Vinnie’s term. The board of five was full again. And for the next two years, this unprecedented ‘petticoat council’ governed with stiff spine and a good corset stay’d.”

Scene 6: “Stray Udders” 

Kanab Newspaper Office, May 1912

NARRATOR:

Kanab’s all women town council quickly learned that it was one thing to pass a town ordinance. Another thing entirely to make it stick. Especially in a place where a man’s cows had more free rein than his conscience. So the council ladies did what bold women do best: they walked straight into the lion’s den—wearing heels and a smile.

LUELLA McALLISTER :

Morning, Mr. Townsend. I’ve brought  some notices to print in your next edition.

CHARLES H. TOWNSEND :

Well if it ain’t Mrs. McAllister herself. The council sent you, did they? What’s it this time—an ordinance about what time the roosters can crow?

LUELLA :

No sir. Stray livestock. Effective immediately. Any unpenned animal found wandering the streets of Kanab will be impounded. Owners will be fined. If not claimed in ninety days, the town reserves the right to brand the animal with ‘S.U.’ and auction it.

CHARLES:

S.U.? steak ultimatum? Stern & Unbending? Stray udders?

LUELLA: No Charles. “Stray Unclaimed”

CHARLES:

And when a man refuses to pay the fine?

LUELLA :

Then we milk his cow. Sell the milk. Rinse. Lather. Repeat. After 90 days the beast becomes city property. And it’ll be sold to someone who’ll keep a better fence.

CHARLES :

Huh. Well I’ll be. That’s bold talk for folks who meet in parlors and carry hymnbooks. I suppose this little town just became closed range.

LUELLA:

Call it what you like. But I’ll need it printed in bold. Right above the dry goods ad, if you please.

CHARLES :

Alright, Mrs. McAllister. I’ll print it. Can’t say I agree with it, but it’ll sure make for good reading. Let’s see which stampede hits first—the cows, or the menfolk.

🎙 Scene 7: “No Flippin way.” 

JEDD:Stew…over this way…

STEWART: I don’t see him Jedd. Is it a robin?

JEDD:there he is.

STEWART:Got him! That robin didn’t stand a chance Jedd!

JEDD:I wouldnt be braggin, sharpshooter—Mrs. Hamblin’s window is right there.

STEWART :I ain’t aiming at glass… just feathers.

MRS. HAMBLIN : Isaiah Stewart Hamblin! You drop that flipper this instant!

STEWART: Yes ma’am. Dadgum it Jedd. I ain’t never gonna hear the end of this.

JEDD: the window would have been a safer target.

STEWART: Yeah

MARSHAL MCALLISTER: Afternoon, boys. 

JEDD: afternoon Leo

STEWART: Hi Marshal

MARSHAL MCALLISTER:Looks like the songbirds ain’t singing much today. Any idea why?

JEDD :We wasn’t aiming to hurt ’em, sir. Just… testin’ our new flippers.

MARSHAL MCALLISTER:Well, you’re about to test your luck with the town ordinance. That flipper in your hand? That’s a 25-cent fine. Each.

STEWART:Even for first-timers?

MARSHAL MCALLISTER :Even for would-be outlaws in training. It’s $.25 for the first offense. And $.50 for everything after. So if you plan to continue donating to the flippin city fund, (see what i did there) you better make sure your target is worth $.75 cents (Chuckles) Otherwise you ain’t gonna turn a profit. Economics boys. Hand ‘em over.

Isaiah Hamblin:What in tarnation’s going on here?

MARSHAL:Stewart and Jedd were popping off robins with flippers, Isaiah. I’m issuing them each a 25-cent fine. If it happens again, it’ll be 50 cents.

Isaiah Hamblin: Stewart! You know better than to disobey the law—especially when it’s been printed in bold type for two weeks! You think these ordinances are just suggestions?

STEWART:No sir.

Isaiah Hamblin :Don’t you worry, Marshal. I’ll be taking that out of his egg money. He’ll learn what respect for the law means.

MARSHAL:Say Mr Hamblin…That your brindle steer sauntering down past the chapel?

Isaiah Hamblin :…It might be. Fence was looking a little droopy this morning.

MARSHAL :That’s a $1.50 fine under the estray ordinance, Isaiah.

Isaiah Hamblin :But—but I just…

MARSHAL :…Seems today’s lesson is contagious. Respect the law… all of it…good afternoon Mr Hamblin.

STEWART:Father? Are we both grounded?

Isaiah:We’re gonna be when your mother finds out.

JEDD:It’s gonna take a lot of eggs to pay fer that fine Mr Hamblin.

ISAIAH:It sure will Jedd. Stew, you and Jedd run back to the house and get your horses so we can gather up this steer before he gets cited for loitering by the water trough. 

🎙 Scene 8: “The Fence Stops Here” 

NARRATOR:

The ordinance was in effect. Stray animals began to be impounded at the city corrals. And the men—well, the men were madder than a badger in a gunnysack. Change is hard. Change mixed with tradition and testosterone…well thats one mean bronc to ride.

JEFF DOBSON:

Marshal! Marshal Riggs! You better be joking with this nonsense.

HENRY “HANK” PRATT:

That red heifer’s mine, and she wandered five feet past the general store, and now I owe a dollar fifty? For what, fresh air?

MARSHAL RIGGS :

You know the ordinance Hank. Stray stock’s impounded. Fine’s posted on the gate.

JEFF :

Riggs, you’re really gonna let them skirted saints boss you around? This was open range before they got a notion to measure fences between diaper changes.

HANK:

Don’t you feel your manhood shrinkin’ a little, wearin’ a badge handed down from a teapot committee?

MARSHAL RIGGS :

Jeff, you and Hank are expected to fence your animals in. The townspeople are not expected to fence them out.

JEFF :

This is hogwash. That’s what you call justice?

MARSHAL RIGGS:

I call it change. Growing pains yes, but needed change. It’s a town trying to keep from smelling like a barnyard every blessed morning.

HANK :

You’re gonna get run out, Riggs. Just like the last two did. People are already calling you Marshal Petticoat.

MARSHAL RIGGS :

You think I like this job? Being the punchline of your porch jokes? I was wrangling cattle myself, long before I wore this star. But I gave my word. And this town gave me theirs.

JEFF:

You ain’t one of them, Marshal.

MARSHAL RIGGS :

“One of them”? What does that even mean? Those women were elected by us. They passed the law. Now you’re surprised they’re enforcing it… I gotta admit, it’s a sight better job than any of the men folk ever did. The ladies ain’t just pretty fixtures in your homes or in positions of public power.

HANK :

You really gonna brand my cow “S.U.”?

MARSHAL RIGGS :

If you don’t pay the fine in ninety days, yes sir. You can take it up with the council. They meet Sundays, right after church. Real forgiving bunch—when you show respect.

JEFF :

Come on, Hank. Let’s go scrape the coin together. I’ll be danged if my best milker gets sold into Arizona. I’d never hear the end of it from them Fried Onions.

NARRATOR:

“The town of Kanab was no longer a place where cows ruled the crosswalks and boys ruled the treetops. The women were in charge—and the men were feeling it. One ordinance at a time, the ‘petticoat council’ was wrangling in the wild west. But progress…well, it comes at a cost. And in this case? That cost was marshals & making unpopular decisions.

“Marshal Riggs stood his ground—for now. But he wouldn’t be the last man to buckle under the weight of ridicule, manure enforcement, and motherly municipal management. More than livestock was running loose in Kanab… so was frustration.

“When we return in Part 2, the council puts out a help wanted ad—for what became the highest paid and most hated job in town. There’ll be slingshots, liquor busts, outlawed cows, and an automobile that nearly starts a stampede. Stay tuned.”