Wicked Women Page 7

  John was a poor man, lacking in pretension, and Jennie found that aspect of his personality irresistible. She offered to better his circumstances by purchasing a saloon for him to manage. Her sincere concern for his well-being made him fall in love with her. In a short time Jennie had fallen in love with him as well.

  In the spring of 1887, Jennie opened a saloon in Salt Lake City, Utah. Researchers at the Denver Historical Society speculate that the location was chosen in an attempt to keep Jennie’s professional life as a madam and private life with her lover as separate as possible.

  The Utah saloon was a huge success almost from the moment the doors swung open. Jennie was pleased with the way John handled the tavern and made frequent trips to oversee the operation and spend time with him. Most of her trips were planned well in advance, but on one occasion she decided to surprise her lover with an unscheduled visit. When Jennie entered John’s living quarters, she found him with another woman. Enraged by the betrayal, Jennie pulled a pistol from a pocket in the folds of her gown and shot him. John’s wounds were not fatal. The sheriff arrived on the scene, and Jennie was promptly arrested. When John was able, he told the authorities that Jennie’s actions were justifiable, and she was released.

  Jennie returned to Denver with a renewed commitment to bettering her already flourishing parlor houses and adding to her holdings. Using the profits made from her brothels, Madam Rogers purchased several acres of premium land in the northern portion of town. She also purchased several shares in an irrigation and reservoir project. The investment eventually yielded a tidy sum.

  In spite of her increased riches and thriving businesses, Jennie was not happy. She was haunted by the image of the man she loved in the arms of another woman.

  The abrupt end of their relationship had not relieved her of the affection she still harbored for John. By the time Jennie was forty-five, two years had passed since she had seen him, but she still thought of him often and wondered how he was doing. She sank into a deep depression over her lost love, deeply regretting her actions. Visits from famous friends and architects, like William Quayle of San Diego and Marshall Field of Chicago, did nothing to improve her melancholy state.

  In May 1889 Jennie received news of John’s whereabouts, and her spirits were finally lifted. He was operating a saloon in Omaha, Nebraska. He had never married, and it was known by his many friends and acquaintances that he was still in love with Jennie. Jennie swallowed her pride and wrote John a letter, hoping beyond hope that he would respond. He did, and the two began a regular correspondence. By midsummer the two were reunited and altar bound. They were married on August 13, 1889. Eight years after they exchanged vows, John Wood died from unknown causes. Jennie was devastated. She laid his body to rest in Denver’s Fairmont Cemetery under a massive tombstone that simply reads, “He is not dead, but sleeping.”

  Jennie drowned her sorrows in her work. An influx of new brothels was siphoning business away from the House of Mirrors, and madams up and down the Row had taken out ads for their establishments in a publication called the Denver Red Book: A Reliable Directory of the Pleasure Resorts of Denver. Some of the houses hoped to entice clients with their offer of fine wines and cigars; others listed the number of elegant rooms they had. Jennie’s advertisement was a simple one: It listed a name, an address, and the bold statement that everything was “first class.”

  Lonely, in poor health, and complacent about her long career in Colorado, Jennie eventually decided to lease out her parlor houses to other madams and move to the Midwest. Before she departed, her physician diagnosed her with chronic Bright’s disease, an inflammation of the filtering unit in the kidneys. She had suffered with the condition for many years but had refused to do as her doctor recommended. The ailment was now in an advanced state, and she was strongly advised to move to a more agreeable climate.

  In 1902 Jennie left the high altitude of Denver and headed to the lowlands around Chicago. Doctors ordered Jennie to stay in bed for at least seven months after she arrived, but she refused. Jennie believed the move was enough of a change for her health. She went right to work and purchased a large parlor house in the heart of Chicago.

  She acquired the funds for the down payment by selling off some of her Denver property and her favorite emerald earrings. In no time the new bordello was busy, and money was coming in at a rapid pace.

  Just as her health was improving and her heart was on the mend, she met a charming thirty-seven-year-old contractor who captivated her. Archibald T. Fitzgerald was not an overly handsome man. He had dark features, a double chin, and a receding hairline, but he showered Jennie with the attention she was craving. Their courtship was brief, but in that time Jennie fell deeply in love with Archibald. Archibald fell deeply in love with Jennie’s money.

  Archibald abused the influence he had over Jennie, encouraging her to spend her fortune on expensive carriages and trips to Hot Springs, Arkansas. He convinced her that the medicinal qualities in the hot springs would bring about an instant cure for Bright’s disease. Blinded by his charisma, Jennie quickly accepted his offer of marriage after he presented her with a diamond and ruby engagement ring, a ring that was more than likely paid for with Madam Rogers’s own money. Archibald and Jennie exchanged vows at Hot Springs on April 26, 1904.

  Six months after the Fitzgeralds said “I do,” Jennie learned that Archibald was a bigamist. He had two other wives besides Jennie: one in Kansas City, Missouri, and the other across town in Chicago. Jennie considered divorcing Archibald several times, but he always managed to talk her out of it. The longer she stayed with him, the more money he spent. In five years Jennie was near bankruptcy.

  Consumed with worry over her finances, and preoccupied with maintaining her parlor houses in Colorado and Illinois, as well as dealing with her fragile marriage, Jennie finally succumbed to poor health. She was taken to a hospital, but nothing could be done to revive her. Uremic poisoning had attacked her kidneys. Her funeral was attended by most of the madams from the Row and several of her employees and business associates. Archibald Fitzgerald was conspicuous by his absence.

  The Queen of the Denver Row was secretly buried next to her second husband. The marking on her tombstone reads, “Leah J. Wood. Died October 17, 1909.” She was sixty-six years old.

  Eleanora Dumont

  The Twenty-One Dealer

  “The Dumont woman was vanity itself. Vain, moustached, always making airs.”

  San Francisco actor John Henry Anderson, 1869

  A pair of miners squinted into the early morning sky as they rode out of the gold town of Bodie, California, toward their claim. Shafts of light poked through scattered clouds a few miles ahead on the rocky road. In the near distance the men spotted what looked like a bundle of clothing lying just out of reach of the sun’s tentacles. They speculated that some prospector must have lost his gear riding through the area, but as they approached the item, it was clear that it was not simply a stray pack. A woman’s body lay drawn in a fetal position, dead. The curious miners dismounted and hurried over to the unfortunate soul.

  The vacant eyes that stared up at the men were those of the famed Eleanora Dumont, “the Blackjack Queen of the Northern Mines.” An empty bottle of poison rested near her lifeless frame, and her dusty face was streaked with dried tears. One of the miners covered her with a blanket from his bedroll while the other eyed the vultures circling overhead.

  Misfortune and a broken heart led to the fifty-year-old Dumont’s downfall. At one time she had been the toast of the gold rush and one of the most desirable women in the West. A string of bad luck in love and cards drove her to take her own life.

  Eleanora Dumont was born in New Orleans in 1829 and came to San Francisco in the early 1850s. She proudly proclaimed to all who asked that she “did not make the long journey for love of the frontier or to find the man of her dreams.” She wanted wealth. “The western heartthrob I’m afte
r is not a man, but that glittery rock lying among the foothills of the Gold Country,” she confessed.

  People of every kind and description poured into San Francisco bringing tents, building shacks, and sleeping on the ground under blankets draped over poles. Men leapt from ships fired with the urge to get into the gold fields and find the mother lode. They congregated with the miners who had found gold and come to town to spend it. There was a wild gambling fever in the air. Eleanora capitalized on the fever by working as a dealer at a saloon called the Bella Union. Hardworking prospectors stood in line to lose their chunks of gold to the stunningly beautiful and demure young woman.

  Within a few months Eleanora had earned enough money to invest in her own gambling den. In 1854 she boarded a stage bound for Nevada City, the richest gold town in California, and purchased a vacant storefront to turn into a gaming house. She called herself Madam Dumont and invited thrill seekers to take her on in a game of twenty-one or blackjack.

  Her establishment was tastefully decorated and furnished with expensive chairs and settees, carpets, and gas chandeliers. Her resort was open twenty-four hours a day, and patrons were offered free champagne. Even though customers were required to clean off their boots before entering and were ordered to keep their language clean as well, Dumont’s place soon became the favorite spot for thirsty gold miners and other characters passing through.

  A big part of the attraction was Madam Dumont’s superb card playing. She excelled in the game she referred to as vingt-et-un, or blackjack. The object of the game was to accumulate cards with a higher count than that of the dealer but not exceeding twenty-one.

  Not everyone approved of a woman operating a gaming house. Dumont was frequently chastised by elite political and social influences in Nevada City. She ignored their remarks and the remarks of the men who lost to her, but she never turned away a customer who insinuated she was a cheat or challenged her to a game. Dutch Carver was a prospector who did just that.

  Late one summer evening, the drunken Carver burst into Madam Dumont’s house and demanded to see her. “I’m here for a fling at the cards tonight with your lady boss,” Carver told one of the scantily attired women who worked at the parlor. He handed the young lady a silver dollar and smiled confidently. “Now, you take this and buy yourself a drink. Come around after I clean out the Madam, and maybe we’ll do some celebrating.” The woman laughed in Carver’s face. “I won’t hold my breath,” she said.

  Eleanora soon appeared at the gambling table dressed in a stylish garibaldi blouse and skirt. She sat down across from Carver and began shuffling the deck of cards. “What’s your preference?” she asked him. Carver laid a wad of money out on the table in front of him. “I don’t care,” he said. “I’ve got more than $200 here. Let’s get going now, and I don’t want to quit until you’ve got all my money, or until I’ve got a considerable amount of yours.” She smiled and obligingly began dealing the cards. In a short hour and a half, Dutch Carver had lost his entire bankroll to Madam Dumont.

  When the game ended the gambler stood up and started to leave the saloon. Dumont ordered him to sit down and have a drink on the house. He took a place at the bar, and the bartender served him a glass of milk. This was a customary course of action at Eleanora’s house. All losers had to partake. Madam Dumont believed that “any man silly enough to lose his last cent to a woman deserved a milk diet.”

  Dumont’s reputation as a cardsharp spread throughout the foothills of the Gold Country. No one had ever seen a successful woman dealer before. Gaming establishments were dominated by men. Dealing cards and operating a faro table was considered a man’s job, and there was not a lot of respectability associated with the position. Eleanor defied convention and proved that the appearance of a beautiful woman behind the gambling table was good business. Curious gamblers from Wyoming to Texas flocked to the club to watch the trim blackjack queen with the nimble fingers shuffle the deck. Rival saloons found it necessary to hire women just to keep up with the competition.

  Eleanora’s success and beauty attracted many young men. Historical records indicate that several men fell hopelessly in love with the fair Miss Dumont. They proposed marriage and had their hearts broken when she refused. Dell Fallon was one such suitor whose affections she rejected. He popped the question to her one night while sitting across from her at a blackjack table. “Madam Eleanora,” he began, “I know I ain’t worthy to ask the question. But would you consent to become my wife?”

  Eleanora Dumont, aka Madam Mustache, was unafraid to use her pistol to defend herself.

  The Denver Public Library, Western History Collection, F-11608

  “My friend,” Eleanora gently replied, “I am grateful that you hold me in such high regard. But I am not free to follow the dictates of my heart. I must go alone.”

  Eleanora could have had men by the score, but her heart was set on just one: Editor Wait of the Nevada Journal. She adored him and longed for the respectability he offered. Wait never returned her feelings. He did not want to be involved with someone lacking in social standing. Her broken heart over the matter would never really heal. To get through the hurt and rejection, she set her sights on building a bigger gambling casino on the main street of town.

  In less than a year after her arrival in the Gold Country, Eleanora had amassed a considerable fortune. Her business continued to grow, and she found she needed to take on a partner to assist with the daily operation of the club. She teamed up with a professional gambler from New York named David Tobin. Together they opened a larger establishment where Tobin attended the games of faro and keno.

  Business was good for a couple of years, but by 1856 the gold mines had stopped producing the precious metal, and Eleanora and Tobin decided to dissolve their partnership and move on. Madam Dumont had more than financial reasons for wanting to leave the area. When she found out that Editor Wait was sharing his time with a young woman he planned to marry, she was devastated. Before she left town she went to see him at the paper. Tears welled in her eyes as she kissed him lightly on the cheek. “I’m leaving Nevada City to forget,” she told him. “I hope you have a good life.”

  Eleanora took her winnings to the rich gold camps of Columbia, California. She set up her table in the hotel, and when profits slowed down she moved on to yet another mining community. She had a reputation for being honest and generous to the losers, and many times she loaned the miners a few dollars to gamble with.

  By the time she reached the age of thirty, her good looks had started to fade. The facial hair that grew under her nose earned her the nickname “Madam Mustache.”

  She decided to use the money she had earned to get out of the gambling business altogether and buy a cattle ranch near Carson City, Nevada. The work was hard, and Eleanora knew next to nothing about animals and even less about ranching. She was lonely, out of her element, and desperate. That’s when she met Jack McKnight. “I knew when I met him that he was the answer to my prayers,” she confessed. “He was just what I needed and at the right time.”

  Jack claimed to be a cattle buyer, and he swept Eleanora off her feet. He was actually a scoundrel who made his living off the misfortunes of others. He was handsome, a smooth talker, and very well dressed. The two married shortly after they met. Eleanora married for love. Jack married for money and property. Eleanora trusted him and turned everything she had over to him.

  They had been married less than a month when Jack deserted her, taking all her money with him. He had also sold her ranch and left her with all of his outstanding debts. Eleanora was crushed.

  Alone and destitute, she was forced to return to the mining camps and take up gambling again. She had been away from the blackjack table for more than a year. She wasn’t as good a card player as she once was, but she was still a fascination to most. They would come from miles around to hear her stories and to play a hand with the notorious Madam Mustache.


  Eleanora took her blackjack game to many backwater towns across the West. She lost more hands than she won, and she began to earn most of her money as a prostitute and started drinking heavily as a way to deal with her tragic life.

  At the age of fifty, she settled in the rough and wicked gold mining town of Bodie, California. Bodie had a reputation for violence. Shootings, stabbings, and thefts took place every day. The lady gambler, now frequently intoxicated, set up a blackjack table in one of the saloons there. Professional gamblers took Eleanora on, eventually leaving her penniless. She always had a smile for the men who fleeced her.

  One night, after losing yet another hand, she drank down a glass of whiskey and excused herself from the table. The saloon patrons watched her leave the building and stagger off down Main Street. That was the last Madam Mustache was seen alive. Her body was found on an early September morning in 1879. The Bodie Daily Free Press reported her demise in the September 8 evening edition: “A woman named Eleanora Dumont was found dead today about one mile out of town, having committed suicide. She was well known through all the mining camps. Let her many good qualities invoke leniency in criticizing her failings.”

  Among the personal items found on Eleanora’s body was a letter she had written and placed in an envelope for mailing. The envelope, which was addressed to the citizens of Nevada City, was splotched with tearstains. The letter contained a request by Eleanora that she be permitted to be buried in the gold rush town where she opened her first gambling parlor. She wanted to be buried next to her one true love, Editor Wait.

  Local townspeople were able to pool only enough money to bury Madam Dumont in the Bodie Cemetery. They gave her a proper burial and refused to let her be laid to rest in the outcast section of the graveyard.