One hundred and six years ago today the Tennessee House of Representatives voted on the Nineteenth Amendment — the thirty-sixth state either would or would not ratify, and the count in Nashville had been tied. Members wore roses on their lapels: yellow for the suffragists, red for the antis. The youngest member, Harry Burn, twenty-four, of Niota, wore a red one.

He also had a letter in his pocket. His mother, Febb Burn, had written from the farm: “Hurrah, and vote for suffrage! Don’t keep them in doubt … be a good boy and help Mrs. Catt.” When his name was called he said aye. The motion carried 49 to 47, and eight days later the Secretary of State signed the amendment into the Constitution at his home before breakfast, with no one watching, so that the ceremony could not turn into a fight.

Burn explained himself to the House the next morning: “I know that a mother’s advice is always safest for her boy to follow.” That is the whole story, really. I try to leave it there.