Wicked Women Read online

  Alice Ivers never sat down to play poker without holding at least one gun. She generally carried a pistol in her dress pocket, and often she also had a backup weapon in her purse. The frontier was rough and wild, and wearing a gun, particularly while playing cards, was a matter of survival. It was a habit for Poker Alice.

  She was born on February 17, 1851, in Sudbury, Devonshire, England. Alice’s father, whom some historians indicate was a teacher while others maintain he was a lawyer, brought his wife and family to the United States in 1863. They settled first in Virginia and later moved to Fort Meade, South Dakota.

  Like most people at the time, the Iverses were lured west by gold. No matter what gold rush town she was living in, Alice always attended school. She was a bright young girl who excelled in math. The yellow-haired, precocious child quickly grew into a handsome woman, attracting the attention of every eligible bachelor in the area. Frank Duffield, a mining engineer, won her heart and hand. After the two married he escorted his bride to Lake City, where he was employed. The southwestern Colorado silver camp was an unrefined, isolated location with very little to offer in terms of entertainment.

  With the exception of watching the cardsharps and high-hatted gamblers make a fortune off the luckless miners, there was nothing but work to occupy time.

  Bored with life as a simple homemaker and undaunted by convention, Alice visited the gambling parlors. Her husband and his friends taught her how to play a variety of poker games, and in no time she became an exceptional player. The fact that she was a mathematical genius added tremendously to her talent.

  Most every night Alice was seated at the faro table of the Gold Dust Gambling House, dealing cards and challenging fast-talking thrill seekers to “put their money into circulation.” She won the majority of the hands she played, whether it was five-card draw, faro, or blackjack. Her days of gambling for pleasure alone came to an end when Frank was killed in a mining accident. Left with no viable means of support, Alice decided to turn her hobby into a profession.

  Some well-known gamblers, like Jack “Lucky” Hardesty, were not as accepting of a woman cardsharp as others. He made his thoughts on the subject plainly known one evening when he sat down at a faro table and glanced across the green felt at Alice. He refused to play against her, insisting that faro was a man’s game. Alice didn’t shy away from the verbal assault.

  She calmly conveyed her intention to remain at the table until he dealt her a hand. Hardesty eventually gave in, but, before he let her have any cards, he warned her not to cry when she lost to him. Poker Alice simply grinned.

  At the end of the night, Hardesty was out everything. Alice had won more than $1,500 off him and the other men who wagered on the game. Curious onlookers were reported to have remarked that he had “lost his money like he had a hole in his pocket as big as a stove pipe.” Hardesty attributed Alice’s numerous wins to luck alone.

  Alice took that so-called luck from Colorado to other gambling spots in Arizona, Oklahoma, Kansas, Texas, New Mexico, and South Dakota. Along the way the fashionable beauty developed a habit of smoking cigars and a taste for alcohol. Wherever the stakes were high, the whiskey smooth, and the smokes free, that’s where Alice would be. She generally said nothing if she won, but if she lost a hand, she’d blurt out, “Goddamnit!”

  Alice Ivers, better known as Poker Alice, was one of the best known renegade lady gamblers in the West. She was a master card player who at one time dealt cards to Wild Bill Hickok and Calamity Jane. Her “poker face” or deadpan expression was her winning advantage.

  South Dakota Historical Society

  The name Poker Alice meant increased business for gaming houses. People flocked to see the highly skilled poker player “packing a heavy load of luck” and puffing on a thin, black stogie. Warren G. Tubbs was one of the many who came to see Alice play cards. Warren was a house painter and part-time gambler.

  He was captivated by her, so much so he didn’t mind losing a hand or two to her. She found him equally charming, and after a brief courtship the pair married.

  Alice was the better card player of the two and was the primary financial supporter for the family. Tubbs continued with his painting business but would not give up the game entirely. The couple spent many evenings playing poker at the same parlor. Whatever Warren lost, Alice made up for in substantial winnings. The average night’s win for her was more than $200.

  Alice’s reputation preceded her. To every town the pair traveled, she was offered $25 a night, plus a portion of her winnings to act as dealer for the gaming parlor. Alice and Warren were bringing in large amounts of money and spending just as much. Alice made frequent visits to New York, where she would purchase the finest clothes and jewels, attend several theatrical performances and musicals, and lavish her friends with expensive gifts. When the cash ran out, she would return to her husband and her cards and begin rebuilding her bank.

  Poker Alice was very protective of her husband and got him out of trouble many times. Warren drank to excess and frequently started fights. Alice would end any squabble that threatened his life.

  Sober, Warren might have been faster on the draw against an offended cowhand. Alice was the better shot most of the time. Her father taught her how to shoot using his Starr Army .44 revolver. By the age of twelve, she was as fast and accurate with the weapon as any boy her age. When she got older and there were lulls between poker games, Alice would practice her marksmanship by shooting knobs off the frames of pictures hanging on the walls. Her proficiency with a gun was proof to anyone who thought of crossing her or Warren that she could handle herself.

  In 1874 Warren and Alice made their way to New Mexico. They had heard that the poker tables in Silver City were some of the richest in the country. Within hours of their arrival, Alice joined in a faro game. Hand after hand, she raked in piles of chips. Saloon patrons pressed in around the game to watch the brilliant blonde win again and again. Before the sun rose the following morning, Alice had broken the bank and added to her holdings an estimated $150,000.

  Alice and Warren followed the gold rush riches to the town of Deadwood, South Dakota. There they hoped to continue increasing their winnings. Her expert card playing and beautiful East Coast gowns brought gamblers to her table. Residents referred to her as the “Faro Queen of Deadwood.”

  Whenever Wild Bill Hickok was around, he liked to play against the Queen. In fact, he had invited her to sit in on a hand with him on August 2, 1876, the day Jack McCall shot and killed the legendary western character. Alice had declined, stating that she was already committed to another game. When she heard he’d been killed, she raced to the scene. Hickok was sprawled out on the floor, and McCall was running for his life. Looking down at her friend’s body, she sadly said, “Poor Wild Bill. He was sitting where I would have been if I’d played with him.”

  In 1910 Alice and Warren celebrated thirty-four years of marriage. Together they had won and lost a fortune, bought and sold several ranches in Colorado and South Dakota, and raised seven children. In the winter of that year, Warren contracted pneumonia and died. Alice remarried less than a year later. Her new husband was an obnoxious drunk named George Huckert; he died on their third wedding anniversary.

  At this point in her long life, Poker Alice had rid herself of the fashionable dress she once subscribed to and took to wearing khaki skirts, men’s shirts, and an old campaign hat. Her beauty had all but faded, and her hair had turned silver.

  The only thing that remained of the Alice of old was her habit of smoking cigars.

  After moving back and forth from Deadwood to Rapid City and back again, Poker Alice left Deadwood for good in 1913. She relocated to Sturgis, South Dakota, and bought a home a few miles from Fort Meade. She also purchased a profitable “entertainment” business, one that attracted hordes of soldiers stationed at the post. In addition to female companionship, she sold bootleg whiskey.
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br />   At the age of sixty-two, Poker Alice found her talent with a gun to still be useful. When a pair of soldiers started fighting and breaking up her house, she stepped in with her .38 pistol to stop the ruckus. The chaos ended in the death of one of the men and the arrest of Alice Tubbs. She was charged with murder but was later acquitted on the grounds of justifiable homicide.

  Alice’s health began deteriorating after the arrest. She was wracked with pain throughout her body. Physicians informed her that the problem was her gall bladder and that it had to be removed. She was told that the surgery was risky for a woman of her age. Alice, who thrived on risk, decided to go through with the operation.

  On February 27, 1930, three weeks after having surgery, Alice passed away. Her estate, which was at one time estimated to be worth millions, had been reduced to $50 and a few possessions. Poker Alice was buried in the Sturgis Catholic Cemetery. She was seventy-nine when she died.

  Jennie Rogers

  Queen of the Denver Row

  “Each afternoon at about three o’clock, the August lawmakers would retire to Jennie Rogers’ palace of joy on Market Street and there disport themselves in riotous fashion . . .”

  Rocky Mountain News, 1890

  A blood orange sun shone down on the dusty, main thoroughfare in Denver, Colorado. Miners and townspeople scurried about with their daily activities, pausing every so often to talk with friends and acquaintances. A sudden commotion at the end of the street drew attention away from their regular routine. An open, horse-drawn coach carrying a host of overly painted girls rolled into the bustling mining camp. The bawdy cargo drew stares and disapproving gasps from respectable women.

  Jennie Rogers, a tall, attractive madam and self-proclaimed Queen of the Colorado Underworld, steered the rig slowly past the shops and saloon. The raven-haired woman was dressed in a green velvet dress and wore a beautiful pair of emerald earrings. The other fancily dressed ladies in the coach waved at the gathering crowd lining the streets.

  Cowpunchers, miners, and outlaws shouted out their approval as they carefully eyed the stunning parade of women.

  The prostitutes’ U-shaped, low-cut bodices showed enough of their youthfully solid and well-rounded necks and breasts to be an enticement. It was exactly the kind of response Jennie hoped to provoke. Amorous men followed the coach to a parlor house on Market Street and there, history records, “a good time was had by all.”

  Denver’s red-light district in 1880 was a busy area. Prospectors had invaded the area some thirty years prior, and the discovery of gold there sparked an influx of miners and their families. By the time Jennie arrived on the scene in 1879, the gold camp had become a booming city with a network of railroads and a variety of profitable industries in place. Madams converged on the growing Colorado Territory to amass their own fortunes with a service many lonely men believed was a necessary evil.

  Madam Rogers’s two-story brick brothel was a popular stop for those living in or passing through the region. It was furnished with enamel and brass beds and hand-carved dressers, desks, and chairs and decorated with lace curtains and imported rugs. The house was a lavish oasis for its rough guests.

  It was precisely the type of establishment Jennie envisioned owning when she entered the business in her twenties.

  Born in Allegheny, Pennsylvania, on the Fourth of July, 1843, her given name was Leah. Her father, James Weaver, was a poor farmer. When she was old enough, Jennie helped make ends meet by selling the family’s homegrown produce in the street markets of Pittsburgh. Her natural good looks prompted many men to propose marriage. It wasn’t until G. Friess, a prominent physician in the area, proposed that she agreed to marry.

  Dr. Friess’s practice kept him away from home quite often, and his very social wife was left at home alone. In a short time Jennie tired of the solitary life and left the marriage.

  Yearning for adventure, Jennie took off with the captain of a steamship and traveled the waterways between Pennsylvania and Ohio. After several years of living on the river, the lifestyle lost its luster. She abandoned the relationship in favor of working as a housekeeper on dry land.

  Jennie took a position as a domestic at the Pittsburgh mayor’s home in the mid-1870s. The mayor’s constituency was outraged that he would allow a woman with such questionable morals to work in his house. Jennie spoke openly about her affairs, and when news that she had left two men reached the public at large, they were against her as a hire. The mayor let her go, but not before advancing her a substantial amount of money to back a business she had in mind to start in St. Louis, Missouri.

  Historians have no idea why Jennie chose to pursue a career as a madam. She was an astute businesswoman, and, given that fact, she must have intuitively known the money to be made in arranging company for needy men. Whatever the reason, her first parlor house in St. Louis was a huge success. Many laborers and business magnates flocked to her “fashionable resort.”

  When news of a gold strike in Colorado reached Jennie, she decided to travel west to the Mile High City to consider opening a second parlor house. After seeing the flood of humanity that had descended upon Denver and calculating how much money there was to be made, she decided to purchase another brothel. Jennie paid $4,600 for the house, and in less than a month she had made back her investment.

  Jennie’s Denver business was located in a section of town known as the Row. Similar houses stood next to hers and were run by some of the most famous madams of the time. Mattie Silks, Laura Evans, and Lizzie Preston all had successful businesses in the same location.

  Not everyone appreciated the services Jennie and the other women had to offer. It is rumored that an outcry of respectable citizens demanded the city council take action against the numerous “dens of iniquity.” In an effort to shame the madams into shutting their houses down, the council ordered that all “women of ill repute” wear yellow ribbons. Undaunted by the attempt to humiliate them, Jennie and the other madams decided to dress in yellow from head to toe. Their dresses, shoes, and parasols were yellow and their hats were decorated with large yellow plumes. Their defiant display drew a lot of attention and eventually forced the council to rescind the order.

  Four years after opening the Denver parlor house, Jennie had earned enough money to build a new brothel. To handle her increased business, she built an opulent three-story home with fifteen rooms. The spacious house, which contained three parlors, a ballroom, dining room, large kitchen, wine cellar, and servants’ quarters, was lavishly decorated. The numerous clients that frequented the spectacular residence proclaimed Jennie to be the Queen of the Row.

  Law enforcement officers visited Jennie’s new place on a regular basis. She was fined several times for keeping a “noisy and disorderly house.”

  Patrons were arrested for morphine use, and a handful of Jennie’s girls were apprehended for stealing property from the men who hired them. The constant trouble the parlor houses and their residents caused prompted a second public outcry against the bordellos on the Row in 1886. Politicians and townspeople were again demanding the houses be shut down. For a period of six months, officials raided the brothels, issuing fines and arresting uncooperative prostitutes.

  Though appearing demure in this studio portrait, Jennie Rogers declared herself “Queen of the Colorado Underworld.”

  Author’s collection

  According to a report in the August 12, 1886, edition of the Denver Times, “The last few nights the police have been busily occupied among the houses of infamy, ‘pulling’ those institutions, and the result has been quite an increase in the sum paid over by the police court to the city treasury.”

  Jennie Rogers and fourteen other prominent madams were arrested for “keeping lewd houses.” All were found guilty and fined $75. Undeterred by the incident, Jennie and her competition were back in operation days after the raids.

  Madam Rogers’s
insatiable appetite for the finer things drove her to some unsavory actions. With the help of one of her many lovers, she concocted a drunken, murderous scandal to blackmail a politician and parlor house regular.

  Jennie threatened to go public with the information she’d put together. The man was so convinced he might be guilty he agreed to pay her $17,000 to keep her quiet.

  Jennie used the ill-gotten gain to build a magnificent brick and stone house. The grand brothel, which opened for business in 1889, was the talk of the West. The ceiling-to-floor mirrors that covered the walls in the reception hall were the topic of conversation from Denver to San Francisco. The unique bordello was nicknamed the “House of Mirrors.” Crystal chandeliers, oriental rugs, marble tables, and grand pianos were a few of the other luxurious features.

  The women Madam Rogers hired to work at her place were well groomed, had the most current hairstyles, and possessed a level of sophistication and manner not found in the average parlor house. They were also adorned in the finest fashions. Dressmakers would bring samples of their work for Jennie to see. She would select the garments each employee was to wear, and the cost came out of that employee’s pay. The care Jennie took to present a high-class product ensured a clientele of the same refinement. Senators and legislators held meetings in the general proximity of the House of Mirrors so they could stop by Jennie’s place for a visit after work.

  When Jennie wasn’t laboring at her trade, she was spending time with her stable of horses. She was an expert rider and could handle a coach better than most professional drivers. During one of her many weekend shopping sprees and subsequent trips to the Tabor Grand Opera House, she noticed a gruff young hack driver watching her every move. John A. Wood was a twenty-three-year-old who had worked around horses all his life. He was moved by Jennie’s kind treatment of the animals and her ability to manage a coach. He introduced himself to her, and they became fast friends.