Prostitution in the Gilded Age

by Kevin Murphy

  The demimonde would attend other parties throughout the year, but this night at the Auditorium kept them going—plenty of intoxicants, laughter, joking, dancing, screaming, yelling, with and without boyfriends. The vast majority of these girls reached a fork in the road years before, and chose the path that would deliver the most fun from every precious moment. Lucy Chapman had a husband and seven children, but she still turned to prostitution. Why? Because she couldn’t be the Queen of Bohemia on a tiny, backbreaking farm in the middle of Massachusetts. She traded it all for a few glorious moments on the sidewalks of Hartford, lighting up the days with her theatrical dresses, outrageous boas, flowering hats, and sparkling diamonds. As Lucy loved to say, “A short life and a merry one.”

  Chapter 5

  Tom Hollister’s Passing

  Life at 76 Wells Street seemed idyllic—considering the location and the views—but the workload was crushing. True, there were women hired to cook, clean, and manage the house, but large and small maintenance chores fell to the only man in the place—Tom Hollister. Besides feeding and watering the horses, he maintained the carriages, buggies, and sleighs. If there were household repairs, he had them all to himself. In the wintertime, the coal-fired, steam heating plant in the basement required stoking and banking throughout the day and night. In the bad months, the walks and drive needed cleaning; in the good months, the lawn and gardens required tending.

  After the Hollisters finished the remodeling, Lemuel Humphrey’s old house was composed of two thirty- by thirty-two-foot rectangles, one behind the other—and offset by six feet. This lovely house of ill repute had steam heat and gaslights in sconces placed on the walls where they would do the most good.

  Guests could access the house through the front door—not an inconvenience because there were no neighbors nearby. The building on the north faced Mulberry Street and the home on the south was about a hundred feet from the Hollisters’ place. Nevertheless, if a patron sought extra privacy, he could walk the length of the vine-covered side porch and enter through the back section of the house. Either way, he eventually found his way to the front foyer where Jennie Hollister greeted her guests.

  The front foyer was an eight- by fourteen-foot space intruded on only by the last few steps of a mahogany-trimmed staircase. On each side of the foyer were huge oak pocket doors that opened to an eleven- by fourteen-foot library on the north, and an eleven- by seventeen-foot parlor on the south. Guests who relished a quiet evening could wait in the library. Those who viewed their sporting evening as an opportunity to enjoy a glass of champagne with the girls—or trade stories with fellow travelers—used the larger parlor on the south side. Near the center of the front part of the house, the stairs climbed alongside the south wall of the foyer. Up against the north wall of the foyer sat a small desk where Jennie kept track of appointments and other matters. A telephone sat on the desk, something new to Hartford in late 1878, and originally embraced only by physicians and druggists. By January of the following year, the humorist Mark Twain installed a telephone at his home on Farmington Avenue. Twain was usually mesmerized by new inventions, but didn’t like the telephone much and mischievously characterized the switchboard operators at the Capital Drug Store on Main Street as “call girls.” As a final touch, the Hollisters had a beautiful chandelier hanging from the ten-foot plaster ceiling—a source that sent sparkling rays of light in a million different directions.[185]

  For entertainment, the south parlor offered a pianoforte with a talented musician hired for the evening. Sometimes, a phonograph delighted guests in the early years on Wells Street; a gramophone followed later. The Hollisters and their guests used these devices as they became available.

  Alternatively, a guest could walk east through the dining room to another lounge area in the new addition. (None of the girls’ bedrooms or baths rested over the rooms of the main house or this added lounge area.)

  The oak hardwood floors throughout were almost completely covered with beautiful carpets and druggets of every description. Luxurious furniture, paintings, and large mirrors—with ornate gilded frames—added a level of warmth and charm that guests appreciated. The girls’ rooms upstairs had brass bedsteads, ornate bureaus, and lavish shades on the windows. Two of the girls at the Hollisters’ place also had talking parrots that they spent hours training. (More on the talking parrots later.)[186]

  All of this made 76 Wells Street the only New York-style parlor house in Hartford. It featured as the dream property of every other madame in the city. In terms of charm, lavish furnishings and ornamentation, Ada Leffingwell offered the only bagnio in town that even came close to the Hollisters’ place. (In a real parlor house, the madame lived elsewhere, but beyond this little modification, Jennie Hollister’s place closely resembled the parlor houses of larger cities.) By fashioning 76 Wells Street as a New York parlor house, the place represented an untouchable monopoly in Hartford. This allowed the Hollisters to charge exorbitant prices, which their wealthy customers were more than willing to pay.

  Behind the main staircase was an eight- by twenty-foot kitchen where the cook made meals for the Hollisters and the girls. In the last section of the old house—along the north wall—extended a pantry plus bathrooms for ladies and gentlemen.[187]

  As far as the Hollisters’ business, throughout the country there existed a wide variety of houses of pleasure, from the marquee parlor houses of New York to houses of assignation (even in tenements) to cheap hotels; and, from saloons to cigar stores.

  Parlor houses, at least in theory, were used strictly for prostitution. So said, the inmates still lived on the premises. The truly spectacular parlor houses did not exist outside the largest and wealthiest cities. That said, vice investigations conducted between 1910 and 1916 found almost 2,200 parlor houses in almost thirty American cities. Eight of the largest cities—New York, Chicago, Philadelphia, St. Louis, Boston, Cleveland, Baltimore, and Pittsburgh—had more than 100 each.[188]

  Much like the inmates of the parlor houses in New York, the girls at 76 Wells Street seldom left unless they needed dresses, jewelry, cosmetics, or toilet articles. An exception cropped up when one of the girls went for a ride in the country or to some public place of amusement with a friend or paramour. On these little excursions, the girls were dressed, gloved, and booted in such a way as to completely hide their occupations. Often, a gentleman mistook a girl from one of the most prominent houses of ill fame for a member of one of the best families in town. It took a practiced eye to make the distinction.[189]

  Keeping in mind that the inmates were treated as family while they worked as independent contractors, it should come as no surprise that girls had to pay about $12 a week for room and board, plus a little extra for hairdressing help and any other toiletries and sundries they wanted. Too, they had to pay for all their own clothes, hats, gloves, shoes, and boots.

  Breakfast was usually about ten in the morning; dinner—the big meal of the day—was served in the late afternoon; and, supper presented as a catch-as-catch-can-affair, depending entirely upon the demands of the clients throughout the evening.

  The young prostitutes were active for about ten hours a day, running from four in the afternoon until approximately two the following morning. Some girls were more popular than others and had little free time in this ten-hour window. Jennie and Tom Hollister’s presence usually ensured that bad language didn’t slip into the conversation and common decency prevailed. Profanity obviously existed, as men told stories and passed along the jokes of the day, but it was kept to a minimum. All in all, the colorful language remained at a level found in a first-class hotel.

  At 76 Wells Street, no bar could be seen. Champagne and other intoxicants were dispensed from a locked closet near the south parlor. Jennie Hollister’s mother and father both drank too much—and since Jennie had to rear her sister, Katie, because of her mother’s decline into alcoholism—Jennie never lost sight of the ugly side of alcohol. Champagne was a complimentary beverage at the Holli
sters’ place—a sparkling wine that kept everyone under control. In an unfortunate liquor raid in May of 1895, the police only found a few bottles of vintage champagne in Jennie Hollister’s liquor closet. The police undoubted tipped off Jennie in advance and she left the liquor closet full of exactly what she wanted the police to find. From a public relations standpoint, how much would it benefit Jennie Hollister if the readers of the Courant and the Times discovered that the only thing served at 76 Wells Street was vintage champagne?

  At Ada Leffingwell’s place—or for that matter any of the houses that encouraged spur of the moment hack parties—the use of hard liquor was common. Ada kept plenty on hand too. Though some of the parlor houses of New York sold guests champagne at $3 a bottle, a wide variety of beverages existed over the whole spectrum of brothels. Again, intoxication had to be avoided because inebriated men caused problems—damaging the furniture, mirrors and paintings—and perhaps even the reputation of the house. Tom Hollister might even be forced to ask a guest to leave, a complete disaster for everyone. Lastly, alcohol can impede performance, perhaps causing an older patron to lose the use of his muffin-topper. C’est la catastrophe assurée!

  While working, the young prostitutes were expected to dress impeccably in the most exciting fashions of the day and wear their hair in the most flattering styles. The inmates knew instinctively that they had to offer the very best appearance by the judicious use of creams, jells, lotions, pills, and every other advantageous medicine that a druggist could offer. Not surprisingly—since their income derived from their skill with these deceptive medicines—prostitutes of all ages were chemists at heart. If there were any sort of new complexion-enhancing cream on the market, prostitutes were the first to know about it. Also, the madame of the house helped in any way possible to make the girls more fetching and entertaining. The girls were expected to offer intriguing companionship as well; the better the companionship they offered, the higher the rates and tips.

  According to census records, “The investigations of minimum wage commissions in various states . . . showed that in the low-paid trades, the average girl received from $5 to $7 a week.” This amount does not differ greatly from the average for all women workers in the United States, as given by the U.S. Census of 1900. Howard Woolston wrote in 1921, “It has been shown conclusively that an independent working woman in cities of the North and the East required . . . from $8 to $10, to maintain herself in reasonable health and comfort. The earnings of girls who turned to prostitution must therefore be considered in light of these findings. . . . A Chicago Vice Report of 1911 gives $70 a week as the average profit for inmates of a representative $1 house.”[190]

  In 1900, houses were $0.50, $1, $2, $3, and $5. The New York-style parlor houses, of course, got the $5 fee. Considering that the Hollisters had a monopoly on the Manhattan parlor house operation in Hartford, it is fair to assume that an evening at 76 Wells Street fell into the $5 range; the Hollisters could easily have charged more—and maybe did.

  With the girls working for the Hollisters, elegance and refinement were achieved nicely. They earned a good week’s pay, but room, board, hairdressing costs, toiletries, perfumes, and other cosmetic articles—not to mention dresses, hats, gloves, shoes and other finery—cut into their profits. Everything considered, the inmates paid quite a price to work at such a rarified level in the business.

  On the other side of the ledger, the madame and the young prostitutes customarily split the money 50/50. Throughout most of the Gilded Age, madames used brass tokens in the houses. The inmates received a brass token on their way upstairs with a guest. The brass tokens were saved until payday, when they were exchanged for money and then the finances settled. In some houses, the money was exchanged and split every day. That said, the brass token system was replaced in 1910 with punch cards. Just like a railroad conductor, the madame punched a hole in a card—with the inmate’s name on it—each time she escorted a guest upstairs. In a 1912 raid, the New York police located the punch cards for January 9th at a notorious W. 28th Street $1 house and found 30 punches on one girl’s card.[191]

  Young prostitutes had to make peace with the fact that they had to shell out enormous sums of money weekly to earn the plush living they did. Unfortunately, few prostitutes knew anything about saving for a rainy day, or how they would feed themselves after their youth and good looks had abandoned them. It goes without saying that the four girls at 76 Wells Street did not always get along. Women everywhere seem to harbor a certain amount of envy and jealousy, but when one of their own got sick or fell on hard times, there always existed a warm-hearted compassion among the other prostitutes. Bewildering as sounds, just as the prostitutes kicked in the money to buy Diamond Lucy Chapman a decent plot at Park Cemetery in Bridgeport, the women of the demimonde could always be counted on for their big hearts and open purses when one of their own needed them.[192]

  Unfortunately for the girls, Jennie and Tom Hollister designed the Wells Street property almost exclusively to entertain wealthy men and there were few amusements for those who lived at the house. On their own time, the girls were often as lazy as cats. Like prostitutes everywhere, they were not interested in sewing or fancy needlework. They might have read one of Jennie Hollister’s books, but beyond that, there wasn’t much for them. They were particular enamored of leaving the place for a carriage drive or a tryst with a new swain. Without question, Jennie and Tom Hollister took them shopping and driving as if they were members of the family, but this wasn’t a weekly responsibility of a proprietor or madame.[193]

  Favorites inevitably emerged among the girls, and those who didn’t measure up got special help or were forced to cut their careers short. In all businesses, there are average workers and rainmakers. A girl who learned the courtesan business well—and developed the powers to attract and intrigue men—had considerably more value than a girl who hadn’t yet developed the subtleties of the trade. Once upon a time, women knew how to gently touch a man’s arm when talking to him, or perhaps when pointing out something of interest to him—such a small thing, yet enormously endearing. Still, this little device of the courtesan seems to have been completely lost over time. The favorites in any given house landed more favors and found it easier to get loans for clothes and cosmetics.

  While the madames might wish that the inmates could turn off their hearts while they worked, that wasn’t realistic. Typically, each girl eventually fell for a certain man. Although incredibly rare, some of the girls had husbands; others had paramours; maybe one of the girls had paired with a sport, gambler, or playboy of the upper classes. Sooner or later, every madame went ‘round the bend with a young inmate who fell hopelessly in love with a client. Eventually, the poor girl chased the man all over the country. The deluded inmate dropped everything in an effort to catch up with her paramour, only to discover that she meant nothing to him at all.

  Many madames wouldn’t permit the inmates to have lovers who live in, or who visit with any regularity. It was just bad business. If a man were allowed to move into the house, the girl would quickly lose interest in the business and pay increasing attention to him. It’s the way of the human heart. The prostitution business presented many ironies, but this one was foremost—girls were trained to feign affection, but if they ever truly developed any, their short careers were probably over.

  In the simplest terms, Jennie met men as they arrived, while Tom Hollister acted as conversationalist and bartender. Together, they made every effort to make the guests comfortable while the men waited in the parlors. There has always existed an artificial intimacy that a good madame must learn and Jennie Hollister had to use this device to greet guests, make them comfortable, and collect fees upfront without angering the clientele. Guests had to feel welcome while they spent time meeting the girls and making their choice for the evening. Regular patrons, of course, knew the girl they wanted ahead of time.

  Jennie also had to manage the girls, helping them with personal problems as well as medical is
sues. Usually, a madame could handle four girls. If more girls were required, a second madame, or madame’s helper, was hired. Since there were four girls working at 76 Wells Street when Jennie Hollister died, we can assume Jennie knew the business quite well and chose to run the place without help.

  Generally speaking, the girls had a certain amount of choice in sex matters. It’s an emotional business and different girls had different comfort levels. The girls, of course, had sanitary requirements after each session, so they needed time to use the bathroom facilities and recreate that fresh-as-a-daisy look.

  Laundry at 76 Wells Street included the personal needs of eight people, plus bedding and towels for four to six bedrooms and baths. The sheets and towels in the girls’ bedrooms and baths had to be changed many times a night. Besides the laundry from the second floor, there were kitchen and table items that needed washing and perhaps ironing. Fortunately, there were plenty of Irish laundresses in the river wards, as well as Chinese laundrymen—like the Wah brothers on Main Street or the Chungs on Shelton Street. As long as the laundry could be done cheaply, it would be a waste of time for a madame to attempt such a massive job.

  Tom Hollister’s health began to fail when he was only sixty-two years old. He had heart trouble, problems with his kidneys, and dropsy (swelling of soft tissues due to accumulation of excess water). He had been ill since the end of 1892 and had not left his bedroom during the five months preceding his death. Though Tom Hollister was the ninth of eleven children, by 1894, he had only two sisters left to think about—Adeline “Addie” Louisa Hollister of Hartford and Annie Elizabeth Reed of New Haven. His older sister, Annie, had just lost her husband, Edward Reed, in March of 1892, and he seemed such a dynamic man that his loss would be felt for a long time.[194]