Lee Cullum: This 'Texas tornado' cleared a path for women's progress

07/02/2003

By LEE CULLUM

When I was at the memorial service for Suzanne Ahn, a Dallas neurologist who died of lung cancer at age 51 last month, one of her feminist friends said afterward that young women today don't understand the agonizing effort it took, on the part of Dr. Ahn and many others, to win for them the opportunities they now enjoy.

There was agreement all around, and the name that emerged as we talked of the struggle was Louise Raggio, the intrepid lawyer who revolutionized Texas law to give women rights that had been missing from the state's statutes.

Ms. Raggio explains how it happened in her new book, Texas Tornado , written with journalist and editor Vivian Castleberry, who shaped hundreds of hours of tape-recorded memories into scintillating prose.

"Prior to 1967, married women in Texas existed under the most restrictive laws in the country," Ms. Raggio said. "Women could not buy or sell their own property, could not sign contracts, could not make decisions for their own children, could not control their own paychecks or open their own bank accounts except with the permission of their husbands. When she entered into a marriage, a woman automatically consigned every legal decision to her husband. Even property she had inherited from her own family became his to do with, as he pleased."

All of that changed in 1967, when Gov. John Connally signed sweeping legislation expertly shepherded through the Texas Legislature by Louise Raggio as head of the Family Law Section of the State Bar.

It was a stunning triumph for a farm girl who grew up with no electricity or indoor plumbing to go from the University of Texas to an internship in Washington, where she got to know not only the future Gov. Connally but also Lyndon and Lady Bird Johnson, Eleanor Roosevelt and historian James MacGregor Burns, who would surface again years later to rescue her from the loneliness of widowhood and insist that she produce this memoir.

It is the story of unbelievable stamina in the face of setbacks that would have incapacitated lesser women for the rest of their lives. Her husband, Grier, whom she barely knew before he was whisked away to World War II, leaving her with a new baby, returned home severely traumatized by all he had seen in the Pacific. Before long, he was being dogged by the U.S. government and accused of Communist associations, none of which were true. He was fired from his job at the Veterans Administration, then reinstated when the charges were dropped.

By then, Ms. Raggio had started law school at Southern Methodist University, at her husband's insistence. She endured a difficult pregnancy during law school. When she graduated, nobody would hire her. Finally, she took a job with legendary District Attorney Henry Wade. That lasted until Grier Raggio, also trained as a lawyer, decided to start his own firm and persuaded his wife to join him as a partner.

Then began the work that would accomplish wonders for family law in Texas and create a model to be followed all across the country.

That night, after Suzanne Ahn's painful service, I went to yet another church, St. Michael and All Angels Episcopal Church, where Christiana Olsen, radiant with assurance, was ordained to the priesthood to prolonged and wholehearted applause. It was a lovely moment, made possible to no small extent by the strength and staying power of Louise Raggio and many like her.

Lee Cullum is a contributing columnist to Viewpoints. Her e-mail address is lcullum@swbell.net.