Parlor Girls

By Karla Stover

Neither Ada nor Minna Simms Lester actually liked men, particularly after marrying brothers and suffering from spousal abuse. But the women weren’t opposed to making money off of men, and after several years in a traveling road company, they were good actresses and you don’t become the most famous madams in the world without knowing how to fake it.

The sisters faked a lot of things. They claimed to have been born to a wealthy lawyer in Louisville, Kentucky, to have gone to finishing school and to have had proper social debuts. More likely, they were born in Greene County, Virginia and their family lost much of their wealth, including their plantation, during the Civil War. And before opening their first brothel, they may or may not have been prostitutes themselves. With family still alive, the pair changed their surname from Lester to Everleigh, in honor of their grandmother, who signed her correspondence, “Everly yours.” Most of their known history begins with the famed Everleigh Club in Chicago’s Levee District, where the sisters created and ran their club for ten years, amassing a ton of money and a pile of diamonds while doing so. A visitor to their club could count on spending up to $1,500 per visit, at a time when the average weekly wage was $6.

Parlor Girls begins with Ada and Minna leaving their husbands and joining a traveling road company before opening a brothel in Omaha. It ends with a happy retirement in New York. Along the way they entertained such luminaries as Diamond Jim Brady and Prince Henry of Prussia, and left a lasting piece of slang: a man who wanted to get laid was Ever-laid.

• Language: English
• Publisher: BWL Publishing Inc.
• Release date: Aug 1, 2022
• ISBN: 9780228622864

Karla Stover

Karla Stover graduated from the University of Washington in 1995 with honors in history. She has been writing for more than twenty years. Locally, her credits include the Tacoma News Tribune, the Tacoma Weekly, the Tacoma Reporter, and the Puget Sound Business Journal. Nationally, she has published in Ruralite, Chronicle of the Old West, and Birds and Blooms. Internationally, she was a regular contributor to the European Crown and the Imperial Russian Journal. In addition, she writes monthly magazine columns, “Walk Abouts” for Senior Scene and “The Weekender” for Country Pleasures. In 2008, she won the Chistell Prize for a short story entitled “One Day at Appomattox.” Weekly she is the host of “Local History With Karla Stover” on KLAY AM 1180, and she is the advertising voice for three local businesses. Her books, Let’s Go Walk About in Tacoma came out in August 2009 and Hidden History of Tacoma: Little Known Stories From the City of Destiny, in March 2012.

Book preview

Parlor Girls

Karla Stover

Digital ISBNs

EPUB 9780228622864

Kindle 9780228622871

PDF 9780228622888

Print ISBNs

Amazon Print 9780228622895

LSI Print 9780228622901

BWL Print 9780228622918

Copyright 2022 by Karla Stover

Cover art by Michelle Lee

All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the publisher of this book

Dedication

To my husband who does so much to help me so I can write.

Chapter 1

Ada Lester looked at her face in the pitted-glass mirror and tried not to purse her swollen lips. A red mark, the beginning of a bruise, covered her right temple and her husband’s thumbprints marked each side of her throat. Easing her robe off, she saw additional marks on her breasts and stomach. Turning her hands over, she realized that several finger nails had been torn below the quick.

When the doorknob to her room turned, she backed up until she hit the dresser. Dear God, she whispered.

Nowhere to run.

Nowhere to hide.

However, her sister, Minna entered the room carrying a pitcher of hot water and Ada let out the breath she didn’t know she was holding.

Usually the stoic one, Ada knew her half undone braids and torn nightgown filled Minna with terror. Over the years their family had become so fragmented the two of them depended on each other almost exclusively. Lordy, I was afraid of this, she said, seeing how young, frightened and vulnerable her sister looked. Her blue-gray eyes filled with tears as she put the pitcher on a small table. I’d like to slap that man silly. Come, lay across the bed, no not that way, here so you can put a leg on each chair and I’ll help you with the Irrigateur.

Ada did as told and Minna inserted its main tube into her sister and opened the tap to release the fluid it held. As the room filled with the combined odors of vinegar, lavender oil, and chamomile tea, Ada breathed a sigh of relief knowing that she wouldn’t be bearing any Lester progeny.

When Minna was done, she carried the pan of rinsing fluid to the window and emptied outside. Hey, shouted a man on the walkway below and both women giggled. However, having seen blood in the douche, Minna tucked a soft clean cloth between her sister’s legs. Come, sit up and let me look you over.

Ada sat on the edge of the bed while her sister poured warm water into a basin and dipped a rag in it. Gently, she wiped Ada’s face and neck. Then she opened Ada’s robe and applied the cloth to the bruises revealed all the while making tsking noises.

Why, Minna? Ada winced when the pressure was too hard. Why did he treat me this way?

Minna sighed. I don’t know, dearie. Those Lesters are meaner than snakes. His brother did the same to me, tried to, at least, but I fought back.

I should have.

But, it’s not in your nature, is it? And water under the bridge, now, dearie. We must think what to do. Now stand up and turn around. Let me wash your back—get the Lester stink off. Then I’ll put on some Cloverine.

Hmmm. Ada closed her eyes and focused on Minna’s gentle hands. A fly at the window tried frantically to get out and Ada felt sorry for its desperation. From the street below came the noise of squeaking wagon wheels, barking dogs, and braying mules.

I swear, I sometimes think the sound of the Jones Brothers mules will follow me to heaven, Minna said. She stopped what she was doing and crossed the room to open its lone window. Curtains billowed in bringing filtered sunshine, muted voices and the occasional laugh. The fly made its escape on a breath of warm air.

It’s fixin’ to be a hot one, Ada said.

The fabric of Minna’s green, silk banyan jacket whispered and murmured with her languid movements. There now, she said, putting the cap back on the tin of salve. The two sat side by side on the bed. The Lesters are brutes, for sure and certain. Just look at their poor mother. Worn out with work and childbirth and fighting to keep body and soul together. I’ve seen her more than once with a black eye. She pulled a brush out of a deep pocket and pulled it through her hair. Unlike Ada’s golden hair, Minna’s was auburn and inclined to frizz in humidity, and the room was becoming close.

I don’t want to stay married, Ada said. She rubbed the fabric of her robe between her fingers, a habit she’d had since childhood and unconsciously returned to when stressed and added, apropos of nothing I wish Mama was still alive.

Minna put down the brush and hugged her sister. Lula, too, and little Willie. But we have each other and we’re sisters and sisters-in-law.

Ada giggled. Yoked at the hip.

The mattress’s questionable plant material rustled as Minna hopped off the bed. Now, let’s get dressed and go find some breakfast.

Oh, Minna. I don’t think I can. What will people say when they see my face?

Minna narrowed her eyes and anger showed on her face. Warrensburg is small enough so’s most everyone knows you married a Lester. We are both proud southern ladies. When folks see you hold your head up, they’ll know what kind a man you married. It’ll shame him, not you. I wish I’d done it when I married his good-for-nothing brother.

That will jerk a knot on his tail, won’t it? Ada stood with a groan and stretched carefully. I’ll be sorry to shame my mother-in-law, though. She’s a nice lady. Going to the dresser, she opened the hat cupboard. "Look. I didn’t get a chance to show you my new hat. The style is called Directoire."

It’s beautiful. I love how the brim is curled up on one side and down on the other.

It’s created to sit on top of any hairstyle. I’ll pin up my hair and wear it on top.

Minna caressed the ostrich feather. Do you remember the poem Lula taught us called The Song of May Fashions?"

Without waiting for an answer she began,

"Say, first what cap shall head of beauty wear,

Though seldom cap should be admitted there.

Tulle chiffonee, with heather blossoms gay,

Or any other tiny flowers of May."

Ada smiled. I do and now I will think of her every time I wear it.

Good. Minna started for the door. Now, let’s get dressed and go out. I’ve been making plans I want to tell you about.

Thirty minutes later Minna and Ada snapped open their parasols and started down Warrensburg’s West Pine Street trying to ignore the heat and humidity mixed with smoke from the Magnolia Mills. In front of the fire station, a farrier examined the horses’ hooves. Their footfalls disturbed the soil creating dust baths where several ground doves rolled and fluttered their wings. On the building’s second floor, scantily-clad women hung over the window sills and called to the men below. Seeing them, Minna narrowed her eyes and shook her head. In very poor taste, she said. The sisters turned at the corner and started down Holden Street headed to SandPearls, a small tearoom which two war widows, Victoria Sandburg and Pearl Thompson, who were also sisters, ran out of their home. Finding themselves with no income after the War of Southern Rebellion, they set aside three rooms for their own use, rented out their second-floor bedrooms, and turned their downstairs parlor into a small tearoom they called SandPearls. Ada and Minna’s cousin Elizabeth had given it high praise but neither of the Lester ladies had been there yet.

They strolled along slowly, nodding at various friends whose eyes widened at the sight of Ada’s face. Several slowed down as if wanting to speak but the sisters kept walking. They knew that word of Ada’s wedding night would provide conversation for weeks. The street was crowded with people on horseback, men hauling wagons full of produce, children running errands or just running around. Dogs barked, chased feral cats or slept where they could find shade. Gardens fried. The temperature climbed, the humidity keeping pace. As they approached the tearoom, a young woman hurried out, tucking her hair under a hat. The home-cum-tearoom had a single step leading to a wrap-around porch where wicker chairs were protected by a three-foot railing fence. The door was slightly off center, with a window on one side and two on the other. The sisters had apparently been seen because the screen door opened and Mrs. Sandburg welcomed them with a beaming smile.

How nice to see you, Mrs. Sandburg, Minna said, closing her parasol. And it’s lovely and cool in here.

I said to Pearl just this morning that even Satan’s going to be sweating before the day’s over, Mrs. Sandburg said. And she said, ‘it’s probably fixin’ to blow up a storm.’ Now, you ladies just come this way, I have a table by the window that catches the breeze. You just rest a spell and I’ll be back directly.

Sighing almost in unison, Ada and Minna sat at each end of a small rectangular table. Ada, who was well-corseted, took a fan from her reticule and applied it vigorously. Really, Ada, Minna inched her chair back a few inches. You’ll mess your hair and mine.

Well, I’m sorry for you but not for me. You know I feel the heat something fierce.

Mrs. Sandburg, who had gone to take care of other patrons, returned to their table with menus in time to hear Ada’s last words. I’ve a lovely sweet, iced tea to help with that, or there’s lemonade. We still have ice in our cool house.

Do you have coffee? Minna was of the opinion that drinking something hot on a warm day would cool a person down.

And for you, Miss Ada?

Iced tea, please.

While Mrs. Sandburg returned to the kitchen, Minna and Ada looked around. The ladies appear to have made improvements to the room, Ada said. The wallpaper and curtains look brand new, don’t they?

It’s lovely, isn’t it? And it smells wonderful, like pies, cookies and cakes baking. Business must be good.

Ada furrowed her brow slightly. I must say I’m surprised.

Why, or should I say what about?

Before the war neither of them ever showed the least bit of business sense.

Back then they didn’t have to, though, did they? But with their husbands shot down at Fredericksburg, they had to scratch a living somehow.

The war was certainly hard on women.

Ada stopped talking for a moment as a young waitress approached their table carrying a tray containing their drinks. Aren’t you the Weide girl? she asked.

Yes, ma’am. Mrs. Thompson is my aunt on Papa’s side.

Are you a Hargrove, then?

Yes, ma’am, I’m Jewel, the youngest.

Well, sakes alive. How are your folks?

Papa’s getting the cotton in; he hired three darkies, but Mama is poorly.

I’m sorry to hear that.

Yes, ma’am. Jewel lowered her voice. The doctor reckons she has a wandering womb.

Sakes alive. Minna looked skeptical. That wouldn’t be old Doc. Lounsberry, would it?

Yes, ma’am.

Goodness. He was old when Jesus was a boy. Your Mama needs a younger doctor.

Jewel was about to answer when Mrs. Sandburg returned to take their orders. Both Minna and Ada chose pear and ginger salad, creamed chicken on toast, and a southern teacake. When their hostess returned to the kitchen, they watched the women who came and went, some for lunch, some for tea and cookies. Some sitting inside, others on the porch where a breeze rustled leaves in the red maple and a Sweetbay magnolia struggling to hold on to the last of its blooms which perfumed the air.

This is delightful, Ada said. I’ve quite forgotten about last night and my face and all.

Good. Minna lowered her voice. After Mr. Lester proved to be such an unfortunate choice for a husband, I chanced to hear from Alice Harrison. Do you remember her?

The woman who once acted with Edwin Booth?

Yes, a lovely southern gentleman, both the Booths, but that’s neither here nor there. Alice has just joined the McCaull Opera Comique Company and I wrote her asking if the company was taking on help.

Help!

Actresses. She wrote back saying they were because the troupe was getting ready to head for Chicago and several of their ingénues had quit. She recommended us to Colonel McCaull talking up how we used to travel around singing; and he had her write that he would hire us. Probably for the chorus at first, and it won’t be a lot of money but who knows? A chorus job might just lead to something bigger.

Ada was distracted for a moment when the door opened and the rising wind pushed two ladies and a handful of leaves into the room. Well, Pearl said it was going to blow in a storm and I think she was right.

Jewel returned with their food and Ada was surprised to find how hungry she was. This is just what I needed, she said.

Hippocrates said, ‘Let food be they medicine.’ Minna forked up a piece of pear.

They ate in leisurely silence but at the same time keeping a nervous eye on the changing weather. When they were done, Ada turned back to Minna who had signaled Jewel for the bill. When the girl came to the table, Ada slipped a few coins in her pocket. Probably all she makes goes to her family, she said by way of explanation, and every young woman needs a few coins to buy a ribbon or something. She began gathering her things. Anyway, why would Colonel McCaull hire us sight unseen and with no audition?

"I reminded Alice of how well you preformed in Trial by Jury, remember? And she praised you to him."

Well, I do love Gilbert and Sullivan but we have to think of what to do if he doesn’t hire us. After all. I, for one, wouldn’t want to be stranded in Chicago.

Well, we leave today, so come on. A broken tree branch flew by the window and Minna re-pinned her hat. Goodness, if we don’t hurry, the storm will catch us. We can talk back at the hotel.

Standing on the leaf-strewn porch, it was a question of whether to hold their skirts, hold on to their hats, or protect themselves with their parasols. When they heard the rat-a-tat sound of raindrops on the roof, each put up their sunshades and held their skirts. Out on the wooded walkway, Ada let loose of her frock and held onto her hat. I’m not about to let any wayward gust take my new hat, she said.

The street was all but deserted, and shades and shutters had been drawn to protect the glass windows. The sky was so dark, when the wind pushed against a saloon’s door, slivers of light slipped out. Smoke from the mills now clung to their own roofs, while on West Pine, the fire horses were inside and the ‘windowsill’ ladies were out of sight. The feral cats, stray dogs, and birds had all taken shelter. When the shower turned to a torrent, the sisters were almost immediately soaked, and Ada’s cuts began to sting from the cold rain which also made her bruises ache. Breathless and dripping they burst into their hotel’s lobby, bringing in wet leaves and creating puddles.

Goodness gracious, said Minna.

Indeed, said the counter clerk who would have to mop up the floor.

Minna ignored his sarcasm and said, Can you have a carriage ready for us in two hours.

Going out?

Well, obviously, Ada thought.

Yes, we have some family expecting us. Minna turned on the charm. Come on, Ada, we need to change. She smiled at the clerk, Thank you so much. The two hurried upstairs to their rooms. Find all the money you can, she said."

And wear black, Ada said. When Minna looked puzzled, she added. No one bothers a woman wearing mourning.

In her room, Minna removed her dress and squeezed out as much water as she could before laying it on the bed. Ada, on the other hand, built up a fire and hung her dress over a chair in front of the flames. Then she sat on the hearth as close as she could to the grate and let the heat pour over her. Sounds of Minna finding her carpet bag and opening drawers carried through the thin walls, reminding her why they were fleeing, Ada found her own Victorian Traveler and made quick work of loading it with folded clothes—clothes she’d unpacked for her honeymoon barely two days earlier. She had just finished going through her husband’s pockets when Minna knocked.

Are you ready?

Just about. Ada put the guard in front of the fire and tied on an old bonnet. At that moment they heard familiar voices downstairs, voices so similar it was different to tell them apart.

Your women just come back from somewheres, the counter clerk said. They was looking like drown cats.

Their smarts is about as scarce as hen’s teeth, one of the Lester brothers said.

We’ll tend to them later. Whiskey don’t cure everything but I’m colder than a day-old dumpling and it’ll start the thaw.

Their words carried upstairs and Ada said, Quick. Give me your key, and take the bags to the end of the corridor. We’ll have to use the fire escape.

Ada locked the doors on both their rooms and slid the keys underneath and inside the rooms. Then she joined Minna who had just wrestled the window open. The fire escape consisted of a thick rope tied at two-foot intervals around uneven pegs of wood approximately twenty feet across. Ada managed to throw it out the window before climbing over the sill, her foot feeling for a rung. The distance from the second floor to the ground was barely sixteen feet but felt much farther. In the wind, the tails of her Ulster coat whipped about, making her look like a large, deranged bird. The rain quickly soaked her shift, drawers, and stockings, and the rope repeatedly snapped in the gusts of wind. Over the blasts she heard Minna saying, hurry.

I’m down. Drop the bags.

They landed in the mud and Ada held the rope until Minna joined her.

Once on the ground, they picked up their luggage and hurried to meet their carriage. Rounding the corner of their hotel, they saw it pulling away from the hotel.

Ohhh! Minna left her case with Ada and ran after the buggy pounding on a door until she caught the driver’s attention.

Where are you going? she asked as he reined to a stop.

Didn’t think you were coming.

The very idea. If we asked for a carriage, why would we not want it then?

Well, being out here in this rain is like getting slapped with a wet cloth so I figured I wouldn’t wait.

When a panting Ada arrived carrying both bags, he was still talking and made no move to get down and help. Fuming, Minna yanked the door open. To the train depot, she snapped at him. Once seated, her temper took over; she knocked the muck off her shoes and squeezed the water from her clothing making a muddy mess, all the while muttering, The very idea, and I could smell the oilskins he was wearing.

I wish I was, thought Ada, who sat quietly. Her cuts burned and shaking made the bruises throb.

The old wooden railroad station was less than half a mile away. When the buggy stopped, Ada got out first and Minna handed her their cases. Then she turned to the driver. Since we had to run a block to catch you, I’m reducing your fare accordingly. She handed him a few coins and followed her sister. Boxes and barrels waiting for shipment were piled high on the walkway which wrapped around the depot. Their presence almost obliterated the door to the ticket office. While Ada purchased tickets to Chicago where they’d meet up with the acting troop, Minna took their carpet bags into the Ladies Lounge. The room was small, slightly dusty and sparsely furnished, but very warm thanks to heat pouring out of a cast iron railroad stove. She draped her coat over a chair and lifted her skirts to the flames. When the door opened, Ada came in saying, We board in forty-five minutes. A basket of apples sat on a table and she put two in her pocket.

Minna turned her backside to the flames, lifted her skirt, and sighed. I’m just about frozen to the bone.

Me, too. We’ll be lucky not to catch our death of cold, but we’ll be on our way soon. Ada followed her words with a sneeze. My, this stove is nice.

All too soon, it seemed, the ticket agent knocked on the door saying it was time to board. Dressed, as they were in widow’s weeds, men stepped back and allowed the sisters to enter first. Minna walked down the middle. She had read about the luxury of George Pullman’s passenger cars but this was definitely not a Pullman rail car. On one side of the aisle was a wooden bench with its back to the windows. It faced a row of wooden seats, none of which looked very comfortable. Minna finally decided on seats close to the back.

We should have taken more apples, she said when they were finally settled and Ada handed her one. Are you still cold?

Not so much, now just sore. Ada smiled. I wonder what our husbands are doing?

They probably got in the rooms and realized we’re gone and their money too.

We have to count it and see what we have. I wouldn’t want to become stranded in Chicago if things don’t work out.

Not here, though, too many men, and even widow women get robbed.

Ada finished her apple and seeing no receptacles, shoved the core beneath her seat. Then she wrapped up in her coat. She was more sturdily built than Minna and soon relaxed from the warmth her body created under the Ulster. The car filled with men bringing the smells of stale smoke, wet wool, and humanity but, having begun to