In the 1960s, the women’s movement was beginning to heat up again after a lull of about thirty years. During the 1880s women’s rights were asserted along with freedom for slaves. That resulted in legislation promoting the equality of women in society. There was a pause in progress during the Depression of the 1930s. Women were actually fired from jobs in order for men to have work. Men were deemed to be more important in the workforce and women were relegated to their “natural place” in the home, tending children and husbands. Then along came WWII, women again became essential in the workforce to keep our economy moving as men were shipped overseas to war. When men came back from war, women were reluctant to cede their place as wage earners. The war of the sexes ensued and the 60s were marked by legislative and social battles along with commentary from both sides staring into the gender gap. 

I, on the other hand, followed the path prescribed by society in those days, a homemaker. Being a mom was what I loved most. The role of stay-at-home wife and mother was the norm and the expectation of women. Married women who worked outside the home were still unusual. The only jobs offered were as teacher, nurse, store clerk, waitress, or secretary. Nothing much was required from me in the wide world except to keep a pleasant home for my husband and raise healthy children.

Where do I fit into the scenario of assertive women? It was accidental. I never considered myself a part of the feminist movement.

Ken worked two jobs for over a year to get the $900 downpayment for our house which cost $16,950. We had a monthly payment of $130 per month for principle, interest, taxes, and insurance – a third of his take-home pay after he quit the second job. It was our first home, a three-bedroom, one-bath, 1,000 sq. ft. mansion. We had two children, a baby and a 2-year-old, at that time. We moved into our house in a small community of Woodinville, Washington near Cottage Lake in December 1967, a neighborhood of one hundred very modest, indistinguishable homes. During the summer of 1968, I noticed some problems in our home. It was under warranty. I notified the builder, Miller Homes, and was virtually patted on the head and told, “There, there those are just normal things to deal with in a new home.” I did not believe them.

Ken said he didn’t believe it either. I called the Fire Department and asked for an inspection. They came out and found several code violations including that the vent over the stove was not connected to the outside. There were insulation, structural, and safety issues. I contacted the builder again with a request for someone to inspect the house and fix the problems. I was ignored. I ruminated on what I, a lowly 22-year-old housewife, could do to make the builder pay attention and fix our warranty problems.

I decided my lone voice was not enough. I typed up a petition of grievance, took the inspection report I had, and went door to door to each of the one hundred homes to ask people to check for problems and to sign the petition if they wanted warranty repairs done. I also told them I was going to picket the nearby new neighborhood where our builder planned a Grand Opening. I asked if anyone would like to go with me. I had 100% of the homeowners sign the petition and four people agreed to come with me on a Saturday to picket with our petitions.

I made signs out of butcher paper and markers for my car and the cars of the other volunteers. “DON’T BUY A LEMON.”  “BUYER BEWARE” “READ THE WARRANTY”. I wasn’t real sure of the law and I didn’t want any sign that named the builder or made direct reference because I didn’t want to be sued. I planned for us to park across the public street from the Grand Opening and stand by our cars with the signed petitions of grievance and the inspection report. I figured we’d attract enough attention that people would come over just to find out what we were complaining about. Maybe it would inform their decision to buy a Miller Home.

On the Saturday of the Grand Opening, all the people who said they’d go with me backed out. My husband was staying home with our two babies. A dilemma. Was I brave enough to go by myself and take the consequences alone? I decided I had to because I promised everyone who signed the petition that there would be action.

I did as planned. A little unsure of myself at first, I wondered what the reaction would be. Most of the people going into or out of the model homes walked across the street to hear what I had to say. I gathered courage from the response of prospective buyers thanking me for the information. After about thirty minutes, the sales manager came over and told me to leave. I declined. I was on a public street and told him he couldn’t make me leave. He said I would face legal action. I still declined, saying our next step was to complain to the State Association of Contractors. Finally, three men came over and said if I would leave, they would take a copy of the petition to the builder. I gave them a copy and left.

On Monday morning, my husband received a call at work. The builder told him to tell me to stop harassing their new home site. Imagine, telling a husband to silence “the little woman” who was making a nuisance of herself. Ken, my very strong, supportive husband, told them I was my own agent and he was not going to say any such thing. He said I had every right to do what I did and would continue until our demands were met. He went further to repeat we would report the builder violations to the State Association of Contractors if they didn’t comply.

The following day a representative of the builder came to our house and, sure enough, a swarm of construction workers went from house to house fixing the warranted problems that had cropped up in the homes. It took a few weeks to complete their tasks, but everyone was finally satisfied. I didn’t have to picket again. Once I knew I wasn’t going to be shot or sued, I enjoyed the attention and the hoopla created among the men. They took me seriously – no more dismissive attitudes.