Wicked Women Page 5

  Sheriff Cruger was amazed at Lottie’s demeanor and commented to her that he couldn’t understand why she had stayed at the scene. “You’ve never been a desperate woman, Sheriff,” she calmly told him. Lottie was immune to such tensions. Her focus was on winning the pot. Enduring the temper of unfortunate card players went with the territory. She never feared for her life, but she did fear being poor.

  Lottie’s monetary drive, beauty, and talent captured the attention of many colorful frontier characters. Authors, songwriters, and artists painted pictures of the lady gambler and penned stories about her vivacious, unconventional spirit.

  Dan Quin, a cowhand turned writer, wrote a series of books about his adventures through the Old West, and one story featured a gambler fitting the description of Lottie Deno. In the book Quin, who used the pen name Alfred Henry Lewis, renamed Lottie “Faro Nell.”

  Faro Nell was “a handsome lady with a steady hand and quick mind made for flipping the pasteboards.” Lewis’s book, published in 1913, helped immortalize the lady gambler. However, Lottie was not flattered by the publication. She saw it as an “unfair representation” showing her as an “unsophisticated lady without proper breeding.”

  After dealing various games at the Bee Hive Saloon for five years, Lottie left Fort Griffin and headed to Kingston, New Mexico, where she again met up with Frank. The pair went into business together in mid-1878. They established a gambling room at the Victorio Hotel in Kingston and opened a saloon in nearby Silver City. Both towns were booming from the gold and silver strikes in the area, and miners were eager to part with a few dollars by drinking and playing cards.

  Lottie and Frank not only were making money hand over fist, but also had acquired several mining claims that had been put up as bets. The pair became so wealthy that they began lending money to mining operations in exchange for a stake in their findings. The couple used a portion of their income to get married and establish a home. They exchanged vows on December 2, 1880, at the Silver City courthouse.

  Lottie continued working, by night dealing cards and by day managing the Thurmonds’ two saloons, restaurant, and a hotel they now owned. She also ventured into charity work, providing room and board for newly released prisoners.

  In 1883 Lottie and her husband purchased a liquor distribution business in Deming, New Mexico, another growing gold mining town. They also bought property in the heart of town and a large ranch at the base of the mountains surrounding the ever-developing city.

  If not for the brutal murder of a gambler by the name of Dan Baxter, Lottie might have stayed on as a house faro dealer at the saloon she and Frank owned in Silver City. Little is known of the actual event. It started with a quarrel between Baxter and Frank. Baxter threw a billiard ball at Frank, and Frank pulled out a knife and stabbed him in the abdomen. Baxter died. Law enforcement determined that Frank acted in self-defense, but the incident forced Lottie to reevaluate her career choice. She was tired of the senseless violence that accompanied her line of work and decided to retire.

  Lottie and Frank settled down in Deming to live a quiet, orderly existence. Frank focused his attention on the mines, land, and cattle ranches they jointly owned. Lottie became involved with civic organizations and helped build an Episcopal church.

  The second half of Lottie’s life was tame compared to the first half. She adapted easily to the role of proper wife and respected community leader, trading in a hand of poker for a game of bridge and helping to form a local association called the Golden Gossip Club. The social club, which still exists today, was made up primarily of wives of leading businessmen. They got together to quilt, swap recipes, and play cards.

  In 1908, after having been with Lottie for more than forty years, Frank died of cancer. Lottie lived another twenty-six years after her husband’s death. On February 9, 1934, at the age of eighty-nine, she became critically ill and died. The local daily newspaper, the Deming Graphic, noted that she “maintained her usual cheerful spirit to the last.”

  The memory of Lottie Deno has been kept alive in feature films and television programs. Motion picture historians maintain that the characters Laura Denbow in the movie Gunfight at the O.K. Corral and Miss Kitty in the television show Gunsmoke are based on Lottie Deno.

  Julia Bulette

  Siren of the Silver Town

  “Every city in the civilized world must have its soiled doves. It is a necessary evil.”

  Bakersfield Californian, October 25, 1892

  The cold, gray January sky above Virginia City, Nevada, in 1867 unleashed a torrent of sleet on a slow-moving funeral procession traveling along the main thoroughfare of town. Several members of the volunteer fire department, Virginia Engine Company Number One, were first in a long line of mourners following a horse-drawn carriage transporting the body of soiled dove Julia Bulette. The Nevada militia band shuffled behind the hearse playing “The Girl I Left Behind Me.” Black wreaths and streamers hung from the balconies of the buildings lining the route along which the remains of the beloved thirty-five-year-old woman were escorted. Miners who knew Julia wept openly. Out of respect for the deceased woman, all the saloons were closed. Plummeting temperatures and icy winds eventually drove the majority of funeral-goers inside their homes and businesses before Julia was lowered into the ground.

  Julia was murdered on January 19, 1867, at eleven thirty in the evening in her home on North D Street in Virginia City. The fair but frail prostitute told her neighbor and best friend Gertrude Holmes she was expecting company, but did not specify who the company might be. Twelve hours later Gertrude discovered Julia’s lifeless body in bed. She had been beaten and strangled. Gertrude told authorities that Julia was lying in the center of the bed with the blankets pulled over her head and that the sheets under her frame were smooth. She told police that it appeared as though no one had ever been in the bed with Julia.

  The authorities believed the scene had been staged. Marks on Julia’s body and tears on the pillow used to smother her indicated she struggled with her attacker. The murderer then set the room to look as though nothing was out of the ordinary. He covered Julia’s body in such a way that at a passing glance she would merely appear to be asleep. It had fooled the handyman she had employed to come in and build a fire for her each day. When the gentleman entered Julia’s home at eleven in the morning, he believed she was sleeping. He explained to law enforcement officers that he was quiet as he went about his work and left when the job was done. A search of the modest home Julia rented revealed that many of her possessions were missing. The citizens of Virginia City were outraged by the crime.

  Julia Bulette was born in London, England, in 1832. She arrived in Virginia City in 1863. Men in the bustling silver mining community supported a number of sporting women, and Julia was no exception. She was an independent contractor. She did not work as a madam of a house of ill repute, managing other women in the trade. She had a number of regular customers, including Thomas Peasley. Peasley owned a local saloon and was known to be Julia’s favorite paramour. In addition to running a business, Peasley was a volunteer firefighter. Julia’s interest in the Virginia Engine Company Number One began with him. She supported the crew monetarily when she could and cheered them on whenever they were called to a job. In recognition of her service, she was presented with a handsome feminine rendition of a fireman’s uniform. It consisted of a fireman’s shield, front shirt, belt, and helmet embossed with the insignia of Virginia Engine Company Number One. Julia was the only woman who was an honorary member of the volunteer force.

  The murder of the well-liked courtesan baffled many. She owned a few beautiful gowns but did not have an extensive wardrobe; nor did she have any jewelry of great worth. The home where she lived was furnished with items of good quality but was not opulent. Julia’s estate was worth $875.43. She owed more than $790 in unpaid bills, including $291 in legal fees and an outstanding balance for alcohol she kept on hand for h
er customers. She generally served whiskey and brandy but had bottles of ale, port, claret, and rum available as well.

  An auction of Julia’s belongings was held on March 28, 1868. Her friend Mary J. Minnivie was the administrator of her estate and provided a list of the deceased’s personal property. It consisted of the following: one blue plaid silk dress; one red moiré antique dress and bodice; a black silk dress; one purple dress; one silk cap rimmed with fur; one blue flannel shirt; one silver cup marked J. C. B.; one pair red silk stockings; three chemises; one white silk chord; four handkerchiefs; one pair of gloves; one brown silk necktie; one fur cape; one fur collar; four fur muffs; one purple hood; one porte-monnaie (a small pocketbook or purse); one gold hunting watch, a gold chain, and charms; one watch case; one jet-set breast pin, earrings, and cross; and one silver brick marked “Julia.”

  The sale of Julia’s things did not cover all she owed when she died. Her creditors would have to settle for whatever they were given toward the unpaid bills.

  Virginia City police conducted an intense search for Julia’s murderer, but four months after her body had been discovered, authorities still had no leads. It appeared as though the unknown assailant had fled the area and any hope of ever finding the perpetrator had ended. According to the November 9, 1955, edition of the Reno Gazette, it wasn’t until Mrs. Cazentre, wife of the owner of a small restaurant in Gold Hill, Nevada, stumbled upon a clue to the crime that the police investigation was renewed.

  In April 1867 Mrs. Cazentre was looking over a fine piece of silk she was going to use to make a dress when two customers came into the restaurant for breakfast, sat down at a table, and began talking. Their discussion centered on Julia Bulette’s brutal murder and the failure of the authorities to find her killer. Mrs. Cazentre overheard the customers mention that the murderer was believed to have stolen two pieces of silk dress material from his victim. Mrs. Cazentre was astonished. A few months prior to this occasion she had purchased material from a drifter for an incredibly modest price. When she bought the fabric, Mrs. Cazentre asked the salesman how he came to have such a fine piece of material, and the man told her it had once belonged to a lady whose husband had been killed in a mining accident.

  After Mrs. Cazentre finished speaking with the two customers, she hurried out of the restaurant to the courthouse with the material in tow. She shared everything that had transpired with Judge Jesse S. Pitzer. He then summoned Harry and Sam Rosner, owners of a local mercantile called Rosner and Company, who identified Mrs. Cazentre’s silk as the material sold to Julia. Judge Pitzer then suggested that Mrs. Cazentre view all the drifters, vagabonds, and thugs currently in jail for vagrancy to see if the man who had sold her the silk might be among them. It turned out the salesman was indeed incarcerated at the city jail, and Mrs. Cazentre quickly identified him.

  The beloved Julia Bulette proudly poses for the camera dressed in her volunteer firefighter’s garb.

  Nevada Historical Society

  The culprit was a Frenchman named John Millian who had been employed at a bakery in town. In March 1867 Millian had attempted to attack one of Julia’s neighbors. He had broken into the neighbor’s home carrying a knife. When the woman screamed he had run. The neighbor had reported the attack to the police and led them through Virginia City in search of Millian. He had been arrested trying to leave town. After Mrs. Cazentre identified Millian within his jail cell, authorities examined a trunk Millian’s employer said belonged to him that was stored at the bakery. The trunk was full of Julia’s possessions. Once he was presented with the evidence against him, Millian confessed to the crime. He withdrew his confession shortly after his trial began on July 2, 1867.

  According to Alfred Doten, editor of the Gold Hill News, the court proceedings “created great excitement in the city.” A myriad of witnesses were called to the stand to testify against Millian, including Mrs. Cazentre, who told her story about the material. The proprietors of Rosner and Company explained the fabric was purchased at their store, and Gertrude Holmes identified Julia’s belongings found in Millian’s trunk.

  Charles Dlong, a Virginia City attorney and one-time California state assemblyman, represented Millian. He argued that his client did not murder Julia. He claimed she was killed by two other men and that Millian was asked to store the possessions for them. Millian told the court he did not know the names of the actual killers and could not produce witnesses to support his claim. The case was handed over to the jury eight hours after opening statements had been made. They found Millian guilty of murder and he was sentenced to be hanged. All attempts for appeals were denied. On April 24, 1868, Millian was taken from the jail and loaded aboard a carriage. Surrounded by the National Guard and armed deputies, he was driven to the gallows a mile outside town.

  According to the June 9, 1868, edition of the Janesville Gazette, so many had gathered to watch the hanging that it was difficult for the carriage to make it down the street. The article read:

  Only by scolding, pushing and threatening with a bayonet was there enough room to proceed. The road to the gallows was lined on either side with men, women and children, all striving with open mouths and distended eyes to catch a glimpse of the prisoner. A way in advance, as far as the eye could see a mob of men, women and children were hurrying along the road, over the hills, and across lots and fields in the direction of the spot fixed upon for the execution.

  It was a motley crowd: white women with children in their arms, Piute squaws with young ones upon their backs, long-tailed and wide-eyed Chinese men, women of the town and women evidently from the country, with men of all kinds and colors. Here was calculated a crowd of not less than three thousand persons.

  Although he wore a somewhat haggard look from his long confinement, yet Millian showed he possessed nerves of steel. He read his manuscript which was quite lengthy, in a loud and clear voice, and held the paper so firmly in his hands that not the slightest tremor was observable. Having finished reading, he spoke for some two to three minutes in the French language, when he turned about and shook hands with the sheriff and kissed the reverend fathers. He then stepped to the front of the scaffold and, in very good English said, “Mr. Hall and family, I am very much obliged to you for your services, and also to the kind ladies that visited me in my cell.”

  Two young men of the Hall family then went upon the scaffold and shook hands with him. His arms and legs were now firmly pinioned, himself taking off his slippers and otherwise assisting, his collar opened and the fatal noose adjusted around his neck by the under Sheriff. He took one last look at the noose as it was brought forward, then stood while it was being properly placed, with his eyes downcast and his lips moving as though uttering a prayer.

  The black cap was now pulled down over his face, and on the instant the under Sheriff detached the fastening of the trap, and the body of Millian disappeared through the scaffold. He fell between six and seven feet and was doubtless killed instantly, as his neck was dislocated.

  Sagebrush and erosion have almost obscured the spot at Flower Hill Cemetery believed to be the last resting place of Julia Bulette. The wooden marker at her grave, as well as the fence surrounding the plot, has a reddish tint due to weathering. Nobody ever recorded where exactly Julia was buried. The proper citizens of Virginia City preferred to forget it.

  Alice Ivers

  Deadwood Cardsharp

  “It was the damnedest faro game I ever saw. The game seesawed back and forth with Alice always picking up the edge; a few times it terminated only long enough for the player to eat a sandwich and wash it down with a boiler maker.”

  Gambler Marion Speer’s comments on the poker game between Alice Ivers and Jack Hardesty, 1872

  A steady stream of miners, ranchers, and cowhands filtered in and out of the Number 10 Saloon in Deadwood, South Dakota. An inexperienced musician playing an out-of-tune accordion squeezed out a familiar melody, usheri
ng the pleasure seekers inside. Burlap curtains were pulled over the dusty windows, and fans that hung down from the ceiling turned lazily.

  A distressed mahogany bar stood alongside one wall of the business, and behind it was a surly looking bartender. He was splashing amber liquid into glasses as fast as he could. A row of tables and chairs occupied the area opposite the bar. Every seat was filled with a card player. Among the seat of male gamblers was one woman; everyone called her Poker Alice.

  She was an alarming beauty, fair-skinned and slim. She had one eye on the cards she was dealing and another on the men at the game two tables down.

  Warren G. Tubbs was studying the cards in his hand so intently he didn’t notice the hulk of a man next to him get up and walk around behind him. The huge man with massive shoulders and ham-like hands that hung low to his sides peered over Tubbs’s shoulder and scowled down at the mountain of chips before him. Alice’s intensely blue eyes carefully watched the brute’s actions. He casually reached back at his belt and produced a sharp knife from the leather sheath hanging off his waist. Just as he was about to plunge the weapon into Tubbs’s back, a gunshot rang out.

  A sick look filled the man’s face, and the frivolity in the saloon came to a halt. He slowly dropped the knife. Before dropping to his knees, he turned in the direction from which the bullet had come. Alice stared back at him, her .38 pistol pointed at his head. The man fell face first onto the floor. His dead body was quickly removed to make way for another player. In a matter of minutes, the action inside the tavern returned to normal. Tubbs caught Alice’s gaze and grinned. He nodded to her and waggled his fingers in a kind of salute. She smiled slightly and turned her attention wholly back to the poker game in front of her.