Wicked Women Page 3
It seems that Kitty LeRoy and Sam Curley’s spirits would not rest after they were lowered into their shared grave. A month after the pair had departed from this world, their ghosts were reportedly haunting the Lone Star Saloon. Patrons claim the phantoms appeared to “recline in loving embraces and finally melt away in the shadows of the night.”
The editor of the Black Hills Daily Times pursued the story of the “disembodied spirits” and, after investigating the disturbances, wrote an article on the subject that was printed on February 28, 1878.
The Lone Star building gained its first notoriety from the suicide, by poisoning, of a woman of ill repute last spring. The house was subsequently rented by Hattie Donnelly, and for a time all went smoothly, with the exception of such little sounds and disturbances as are incident to such places. About the first of December the house was rented by Kitty LeRoy, a woman said to be well connected and possessed of intelligence far beyond her class. Kitty was a woman well known to the reporter, and whatever might have been her life here, it is not necessary to display her virtues or her vices, as we deal simply with information gleaned from hearsay and observation. With the above facts before the reader we simply give the following, as it appeared to us, and leave the readers to draw their own conclusions as to the phenomena witnessed by ourselves and many others. It is an oft repeated tale, but one which in this case is lent more than ordinary interest by the tragic events surrounding the actors.
To tell our tale briefly and simply, is to repeat a story old and well known—the reappearance, in spirit form, of departed humanity. In this case it is the shadow of a woman, comely, if not beautiful, and always following her footsteps, the tread and form of the man who was the cause of their double death. In the still watches of the night, the double phantoms are seen to tread the stairs where once they reclined in the flesh and linger o’er places where once they reclined in loving embrace, and finally to melt away in the shadows of the night as peacefully as their bodies’ souls seem to have done when the fatal bullets brought death and the grave to each.
Whatever may have been the vices and virtues of the ill-starred and ill-mated couple, we trust their spirits may find a happier camping ground than the hills and gulches of the Black Hills, and that tho’ infelicity reign with them here happiness may blossom in a fairer climate.
The bodies of Kitty LeRoy and Sam Curley were eventually moved to the mountaintop cemetery of Mount Moriah in Deadwood and their burial spots left unidentified.
Tessie Wall
Barbary Coast Madam
“Drink that up, boys! Have a drink on Tessie Wall!”
Madam Tessie Wall’s invitation to officers at the annual Policeman’s Ball after laying a $1,000 bill on the bar, 1913
A parade of horse-drawn carriages deposited fashionably dressed San Francisco citizens at the entrance of the Tivoli Theatre. A handsome couple, holding hands and cooing as young lovers do, emerged from one of the vehicles. A figure across the street, hidden in the shadows of an alleyway, eyed the pair intently. Once the couple entered the building, Tessie Wall stepped out of the darkness into the subdued light of a row of gas lamps lining the busy thoroughfare. Tears streamed down the svelte blonde’s face. The pain of seeing the man she loved with another woman was unbearable.
Several hours before, Tessie and her ex-husband, Frank Daroux, had entertained passersby with a robust argument over the other woman in his life. After accusing the man of being a liar and a thief, Tessie begged him for another chance and promised to make him forget anyone else with whom he was involved. Frank angrily warned Tessie that if she started anything he would put her “so far away that no one would find her.”
The words he had said to her played over and over again in her head. “You’ve got my husband,” she mumbled to herself. “And you’ll get yours someday. It’s not right.” She choked back a torrent of tears, reached into her handbag, and removed a silver-plated revolver. Hiding the weapon in the folds of her dress, she stepped back into the dark alleyway and waited.
It wasn’t long until Frank walked out of the theater, alone. Standing on the steps of the building, he lit up a cigar and cast a glance into the night sky. Preoccupied with his view of the stars, Frank did not see Tessie hurry across the street and race over to him. Before he realized what was happening, Tessie pointed the gun at his chest and fired. As Frank fell backward he grabbed hold of the rim of a nearby carriage Tessie unloaded two more shots into his upper body. Frank collapsed in a bloody heap.
A view inside Madam Tessie Wall’s elaborate house of ill fame in San Francisco
San Francisco History Center, San Francisco Public Library
Tessie stood over his near-lifeless frame, sobbing. When the police arrived she was kneeling beside Frank, the gun still clutched in her hand. When asked why she opened fire on him, she wailed, “I shot him ’cause I love him, Goddamn him!”
Tessie Wall was one of the Barbary Coast’s most popular madams. Since entering the business in 1898, her life had been mired in controversy. Born on May 26, 1869, she was one of ten children. Her mother, who died at the age of forty-four, named her chubby, ash-blond daughter Teresa Susan Donahue. Her father, Eugene, was a dock worker and spent a considerable amount of time away from home. Teresa and her brothers and sisters took care of themselves. By the time she turned thirteen, Teresa, or Tessie as she was referred to by friends and family, had developed into a beautiful, curvaceous young woman. She turned heads everywhere she went in the Mission District, where she lived.
In 1884 Tessie accepted a marriage proposal from Edward M. Wall, a handsome fireman twice her age. Edward was a heavy drinker and was often out of work because of his “weakness.” Tessie supported them with her job as a housekeeper. Two years after the pair married they had a son. Joseph Lawrence Wall’s life was short. He died four months after his birth from respiratory complications. Tessie was devastated and, following her husband’s example, took up drinking to dull the pain.
Joseph’s death had an adverse effect on Edward and Tessie’s relationship. Both blamed the other for their loss. The Walls’ marriage ended in bitter divorce. Historians believe heartbreak over her child’s death and the subsequent demise of her marriage contributed to Tessie’s decision to enter into a life of prostitution.
Before venturing out on her own, Tessie continued to keep house for some of San Francisco’s most prominent citizens. While in their employ Tessie learned about the unconventional desires and habits many of the elite society members possessed. After learning how much money they were willing to pay for their debauchery, she decided to go into business for herself. In 1898 she purchased a brothel and hired a stable of beautiful young ladies to work for her.
In two years Tessie’s “lodging house” had become so successful that she was able to open a second brothel.
Tessie’s bordellos were visited by some of the wealthiest businessmen and politicians in the state. Upon entering, her business clients were greeted by elegantly dressed women offering them wine and champagne. The home itself was equally inviting and posh. It was furnished with antiques, plush red-velvet sofas and armchairs, and a large gold fireplace. The draperies and bedroom furniture were just as ornate. Tessie had a giant, gold Napoleon bed decorated with swans and cupids. The dresser and matching mirror were gilded in gold.
Madam Wall’s parlor house was recognized as one of the best in the city. Tessie herself would spend time with her guests before they left with a lady of their choosing. She listened intently to their stories about life and work and would laugh uproariously at their jokes. Patrons were so captivated by the charms of their host that they often admitted that when they sat down in the parlor and started talking to Tessie, they forgot what they came for.
Tessie knew the importance of advertising. The method she used to promote her house was unconventional but effective. She would clothe her girls in the latest garm
ents from Paris and New York and send them out on the street for all to admire. Every Saturday afternoon, Tessie’s girls would hold a parade on Market Street. Everyone in the neighborhood would come out to see the new fashions being worn by the demimonde.
Once other madams saw how popular the parades were, they launched their own exhibitions. It wasn’t uncommon on weekends to see numerous women marching on opposite sides of the thoroughfare, modeling the latest styles. Parlor houses with the best showing reaped the benefits in the evening. Due in large part to Tessie’s welcoming personality and the voluptuous ladies that worked for her, Tessie’s brothel was usually the one that did the most business.
Madam Wall’s parlor house yielded a sizeable profit, but the opportunities the income afforded her and the conversation she enjoyed with an array of customers couldn’t keep her from thinking about her son. During those melancholy moments she would once again turn to alcohol. By this point in her life, Tessie was able to consume enormous quantities of wine and drink most men under the table. Often she challenged beer drinkers to champagne drinking contests. The famous boxer John L. Sullivan was one such participant. Sullivan was unaccustomed to the effects of champagne, and after twenty-one drinks he passed out. Still standing after twenty-two drinks, Tessie won the contest and was forever referred to as “the woman who licked John L. Sullivan.”
The life and business Madam Wall had built was almost destroyed by the great fire of 1906. A massive earthquake rocked San Francisco on August 1, causing electric lights to fall, spark, and set fire to buildings and homes along Market Street. The blaze spread throughout the city, reducing multiple structures to ash.
Despite her best efforts, Tessie’s parlor house did not survive the inferno. The only item she managed to save was the gold fireplace. When she rebuilt the brothel a year later, the resilient item was put back in place. It became the focal point of the house and the subject of much conversation for years to come.
The new parlor house was just as popular as before, but competition from new rival houses had heightened. Jessie Hayman, the madam from a high-class establishment near Tessie’s, had attracted many clients, and her business continued to grow daily. Madam Wall was forced to come up with fresh ways to promote her house.
In addition to the weekly parades of her employees dressed in their finest, Tessie decided to show off her staff at music halls and theaters. Every Sunday evening Tessie and her ladies would attend a vaudeville performance at the Orpheum Theatre. She purposely arrived late so all eyes would be focused on her beauties as they made their way to their seats.
The stunt drastically increased nightly business. When Jessie learned what Tessie was doing, she began taking her ladies to the theater, too. On Sunday nights the two madams would try to best each other with grand entrances that seemed to upstage the performers. Determined not to be outdone, Tessie decided to keep her girls from attending a couple of shows. The spectacle of their arrival always generated a lot of attention, and she hoped their absence would do the same.
The empty seats did pique the public’s interest, and just as the conversation about where they were died down, Tessie and her ladies returned. As the lights dimmed, the curtain went up, the music started, and Madam Wall and her girls made their way down the aisle. As though on cue, the show suddenly stopped, the house lights were turned up again, and all eyes were on Tessie and her ladies.
For every public attempt to increase business there were private deals being made to do the same. It was not uncommon for hotel clerks, bellboys, headwaiters, chefs at restaurants, and cabbies to be paid handsome sums to direct wealthy men to the finer parlor houses. Such help was generally worth 10 percent of the amount earned from that customer.
Over her long career Tessie made friends with several well-known figures. One such man was politician Milton Latham, who would later become the governor of California. At the time of their meeting, he was a struggling architect. Tessie was struggling herself. A public outcry against houses like hers from moral citizens prompted city officials to place restrictions on a madam’s ability to add more rooms to her business. Construction on a new house of ill repute was also restricted.
In spite of the limitations, Latham wanted to build Tessie a new bordello. Madam Wall laughed at the thought and reminded him of the police blockade on houses like hers. “It’s so strict right now,” she told Latham, “that I can’t even put out red lights or hang red shades.” After Latham managed to convince Tessie that it was doable and his offer was sincere, she agreed to try to acquire a building permit. To her surprise, she was granted one.
Latham built an exquisite home in the city’s Tenderloin district. The three-story terra-cotta structure had twelve suites, a large kitchen and dining room, a saloon, three parlors, and a ballroom. An average of fourteen women lived and worked at the house. Some came to the ornate business from as far away as France. The majority of Madam Wall’s highly sought-after employees were young and blond. A thirty-something brunette known as Black Gladys garnered the most attention at the home.
Madam Wall’s parlor house at 337 O’Farrell Street was a popular stop for college men and young entrepreneurs. Tessie’s clients could pay for the services of her ladies by cash or credit and did not normally spend the night. If gentlemen did stay overnight, however, they were sent on their way only after their clothes were pressed, and they were served a full breakfast.
Among the many repeat customers at Tessie’s establishment was Frank Daroux. Frank was a gambler and politician. He held a high-ranking position within the Republican Party and had a weakness for brothels. One evening in 1909, he wandered into Tessie’s place and was instantly captivated by the flamboyant madam. She was equally charmed by him. Frank invited Tessie to dinner, and the two laughed and conversed through an elaborate meal.
The evening left a lasting impression on Frank, not merely because the company was stimulating but because Tessie drank a considerable amount of wine. In addition to the fine French food the pair was served in a private dining room, Tessie enjoyed twenty glasses of champagne and never left the table.
Tessie was attracted to Frank for a variety of reasons. He resembled Napoleon—a man she thought was devilishly handsome. And he was clever, smart, and well respected in the community. It was that kind of respectability for which Tessie longed. After a whirlwind courtship and significant persuasion on her part, the pair was married.
Frank felt his career in politics would suffer if it was widely known he married a madam, so he insisted the wedding take place out of town and then be kept a secret. Tessie reluctantly agreed to his terms but made him promise she could host a party to celebrate their commitment to one another. One hundred guests attended the grand affair. They were treated to a delicious feast and eighty cases of champagne.
The Darouxes’ marriage was rocky from the start. Preoccupied with his public image, Frank demanded Tessie remove herself as madam and run the business in a more covert manner. Tessie agreed, hoping the action would also allow the two to spend more time together. Frank, however, often left his new wife alone while he oversaw the activities at various gambling houses he owned. When he was home neighbors would overhear the pair loudly arguing in the early hours of the morning.
The difficulties between the two worsened when a new mayor and city council, bent on reform, were elected to office. The conservative public servants wanted to stamp out gambling and prostitution in San Francisco. Once the Darouxes’ livelihoods were threatened, they turned on one another.
In an effort to convince politicians that his business practices and personal life were respectable, Frank removed himself even further from his bride. He befriended the new elected officials, convincing them that profits earned from his establishment could financially benefit them and the city. He attended posh social engagements and rallies unaccompanied by Madam Wall.
The more politically powerful Frank became, the more he tried to per
suade Tessie to sell the parlor house. He reasoned that if she got out of the business it would ultimately make him look better once news of their marriage became common knowledge. As further enticement to give up the parlor house, Frank purchased a home for Tessie in the country. The gesture did not bring about the desired result. Tessie refused to leave the bustle of the city. “I’d rather be an electric light pole on Powell Street,” she told her husband, “than own all the land in the sticks.”
No matter how much she might have questioned the wisdom of marrying a man who did not accept her as she was, Tessie’s dreams of being embraced socially by San Francisco’s elite never wavered. She longed to be invited to chic affairs where important and well-respected guests appeared.
By the spring of 1911, she had managed to acquire an invitation to the Greenway Cotillion, a dinner and dance held to honor the city’s founding fathers. The invitation, for Madam Wall and twelve of her girls, was procured by a politician and regular guest of the parlor house and came with a stipulation. If the ladies chose to attend, their identities had to be disguised by champagne bottle costumes they would be required to wear. Tessie agreed.
Her appearance at the cotillion, even if it was disguised, impelled an unnamed socialite to invite Madam Wall to the annual Mardi Gras ball. Wearing tails and a top hat, Frank attended the gala with his wife. Tessie’s dress was tasteful and understated. She was disappointed but not surprised that her name was not listed in the local newspaper as one of the Mardi Gras attendees. She remedied the omission by reporting the loss of an expensive diamond broach at the location of the ball. The report was followed by a lost and found article placed in the San Francisco Examiner. Everyone who read the newspaper that day knew the notorious O’Farrell Street madam had been at the Mardi Gras ball.