Husband, Father, Scout and Actor

“My restless, roaming spirit would not allow me to remain at home very long.”

                                                         William Cody – 1904

In late February 1869, Louisa and her two-year-old daughter Arta were tucked safely inside her parent’s home in St. Louis, Missouri.  It was cold, and she stood over a fire blazing in a grate fireplace trying to get warm.  Her little girl was nearby playing on the floor with a doll.  Preoccupied with rereading a letter from William, Louisa paid little attention to the knock on the front door, nor did she look up from the letter when her mother answered it.  The sound of a familiar voice booming over Elizabeth Frederici’s cheerful welcome, prompted Louisa to set aside the correspondence.

Arta immediately recognized the burly figure that entered the room as her father’s.  She hurried to William, and he scooped her into his arms.  Louisa was less certain that the man was her husband.  There was a long moment of silence as she studied his face and rugged manner of dress.  The change in his appearance was so striking that she could only stare at him.  “Where the close cropped hair had been were long, flowing curls now,” she later wrote in her memoirs.  “A mustache weaved its way outward from his lower lip, while a small goatee showed black and spot-like on his chin.”  (1)

Louisa slowly approached William then cupped his chin in her hand.  He smiled back at her, and she hugged him around the neck, stroking his matted, unruly mane.  “What happened to your hair?” she asked, smoothing it down and pushing several strands behind his ear.  “This is how they wear it on the plains,” he replied unapologetically.  “If it were any shorter I couldn’t claim to be a scout.”  He went on to explain that any Native American who got the better of him would have quite a scalp on their hands. (2)

William pulled Louisa close to him and kissed her face.  They were happy to see one another, but she thought he looked thin and tired.  She promised to serve him a fine meal once he “made himself presentable.”  After playfully tossing his daughter in the air a few times and tickling her ribs, he reluctantly went to take a bath and change out of his buckskins into store-bought clothes.

William’s appearance was significantly less wild when he sat down to eat dinner that evening with his family.  It gave Louisa pleasure to see how well he liked her cooking.  The good food, congenial surroundings, his wife’s attentiveness, and the affection of his daughter were not enough to entice him to stay put for an extended period of time.

General Phil Sheridan, commander of the troops on the western front, needed William as a scout for the Fifth Cavalry.  The outfit was being transferred from Fort Lyon, Colorado, to Fort McPherson, Nebraska.  As soon as the passage way was made safe from assault by the Sioux, Cheyenne, Kiwas, and Arapahoe Indians, William promised to return for Louisa and Arta and take them with him to the Northern Plains.  The day he announced that he needed to be on his way, a troubled light came to Louisa’s eyes, and the lines around her mouth deepened with sorrow.  She worried for her husband’s well-being on such a dangerous journey.  She did not doubt his ability as a hunter, she had been present at numerous shooting expeditions where William occasionally and successfully competed.

Riflemen challenged the claim that he was the best buffalo hunter in the West.  Huge sums of money were offered to William to prove his talent.  Hundreds of spectators would converge at the spot where the contests were held, twenty miles east of Fort Sheridan, Illinois.  William and his opponents would hunt for eight hours to see who could shoot the most buffalo.  William always won.  Many of the Plains Indians knew of his reputation and feared him.  Louisa hoped his notoriety would protect him beyond the area where he earned his fame.  Soon after William rode off to join Sheridan’s troops, Louisa began packing and making arrangements to go with him when he returned.

Riding well in advance of the cavalry, William blazed a trail through treacherous, unsettled territory scanning the area for hostile Indians.  Not far from Fort Larned, Kansas, where his trip originated, he spotted a large gathering of Kiawa and Comanche braves.  Other than being restless and anxious about receiving a herd of cattle the U.S. Government had promised the tribes, William accepted the word of the Indian leaders that they were not planning any attack.  It did not go unnoticed by him, however, that many of the Natives were armed with rifles and had a generous supply of ammunition.  He continued on his way, but kept a careful eye out for tribesmen who might be considering going on the warpath.

Days after his first encounter with the Indians, he was hurrying towards the next outpost on the trek to get supplies and a fresh mount when he was stopped by forty braves.  He recognized them as the same men whom he had met outside Fort Larned.  Their faces were now smeared with red paint, and their demeanor was clearly unfriendly.  William was jerked off his ride, disarmed, and escorted to their camp along the Arkansas River.  After some fast talking and the promise to help round up several head of cattle and drive them to their village, William was set free.

More than a dozen braves trailed along behind him to make sure he would do what he said.  William slowly managed to pull ahead of his followers and eventually spurred his ride into a full gallop.  A chase between the scout and the Indians ensued.  The braves were gaining on William just as he spotted a party of soldiers moving out of a thicket beside a stream.  The troops noticed William was in trouble and took position with their rifles to fire on the incoming Indians.  When William reached the soldiers he leaped off his mount and fell in with them.  Several shots were fired, and two braves were killed.  The remaining Indians turned away from the ambush and rode back to their encampment. (3)

The Indian uprising along the route did not end with the exchange of gunfire outside Fort Larned.  Native Americans were sullen and bitter about the intrusion on their land and the slaughter of the buffalo.  From the time William left Louisa at the Kansas military post in 1867 until the time he was able to move his family to Nebraska two years later, he would be involved in numerous skirmishes with a variety of Indian tribes.

One of the most dangerous of the armed conflicts occurred in the summer of 1869 on the north fork of Nebraska’s Beaver Creek.  William was leading a group of civilian scouts and Fifth Cavalry soldiers through the dangerous area when they happened upon a tribe of more than 300 Cheyenne warriors and their families.  All were traveling along the water’s edge.  Word of the Indian’s presence was sent to the commander of the troops, and orders were given to the soldiers to keep themselves low in the ravine to avoid being detected.  William was sent ahead to find out how quickly the Indians were moving and in what direction.  He returned with the recommendation that the Cavalry attack the Cheyenne before they discovered the Army was there.

The tribe was not caught unaware.  Their own scouts had caught sight of the Army.  The Indians lined up on one side of the creek-bed and were waiting for the advancing soldiers.  The Fifth Cavalry’s commander, General Carr, divided his men into divisions and concentrated a wave of troops on the point in the line that had the least number of warriors.  A rogue lieutenant decided to attack another point in the line and found himself and his division surrounded by 100 warring Cheyenne.  While the remaining troops fought to rescue the men, the Indians fortified their defense.  They held off the Cavalry long enough to get the women and children out of the area and then, a little at a time, began retreating towards the Republican River.

William’s superior shooting and riding skills were instrumental in driving the Cheyenne into the hills and out of the immediate area.  The grueling battle had left the scout and the other members of the Cavalry exhausted and in need of provisions, ammunition, fresh horses, and reinforcements.  The soldiers knew the Cheyenne were tenacious and would mount a counter attack.  They knew they would need more help to fight back the rested warriors.  William, who had been severely wounded in the episode, volunteered to travel to the nearest fort for assistance.

General Carr recalled William’s brave ride in his daily log.  “…His head was swathed in a bloody handkerchief, which served as a bandage as well as a chapeau, his hat having been shot off, the bullet plowing his scalp badly for about five inches.  He was bleeding profusely – a very close call, but a lucky one.  The advance guard had been relieved, the Indians severely punished, with a loss on our side of only three killed.  Our greatest need was supplies, which the hot trail had side tracked.  As the country was infested with Indians, and it was fifty miles to the nearest supply point, Fort Kearney, on consultation with Cody he decided it would be best to undertake the job himself, a point of characteristic of him, as he never shirked duty or faltered in emergencies.

I gave him the best horse in the outfit, and when twilight arrived, he, after patching up his head a little, was off to bring relief and meet us at a point northwest about a day’s march away.  These were about the most definite directions any scout got in the trackless wastes….  Cody made a ride of fifty miles during the night, arriving at Fort Kearney at daylight.  (4)

He had chased and fought Indians all day, been wounded, and when, through his rare frontier instinct, he reached us he had been almost constantly in the saddle and without sleep for forty hours.”

By late summer 1869, William had moved Louisa and Arta to Fort McPherson and the family was busy partaking in the many social engagements at the post.  At 22, Buffalo Bill, as many came to call him, was recognized by military leaders and government officials as the best guide and hunter on the plains.  He and Louisa were highly sought after guests at dinners, dances, and weekly stage plays.

Female camp followers, wives and daughters of the military men stationed at the fort, found William’s unconventional looks appealing.  They were attentive and eager to be near him.  Louisa had become accustomed to William’s long whiskers and found them as attractive as the other ladies did.  (5)  She had her share of admirers at the post as well.  Settlers, soldiers, and cowboys kept her dance card full at every gala.  (6)

William was proud of his wife, and, in the first year together at the army camp, the two shared many wonderful memories.  Years later, Louisa fondly recalled a Christmas when William left the fort to travel to Cheyenne, Wyoming to bring back “gifts and other necessities of the season.”  While waiting for him to return, she and some of the other wives decorated the hall where a Christmas party was to be held.  She helped prepare a massive holiday meal for the soldiers and their families as well.  William arrived back at the post with a wagon that was overflowing with presents for Arta and the other children who lived there.  “The program,” Louisa later wrote, “came off in high style, except when our daughter stood up and recited a bit of a silly verse her father had taught her, instead of the more appropriate recitation I had selected for her.”  (7)

The Codys’ home at Fort McPherson was a modest two-room cabin with a small log barn located next to it.  Prior to Louisa and Arta’s arrival, William had furnished the home with items he ordered from a store in Cheyenne.  In his attempt to make the primitive structure presentable for his wife and child, he tried to paper the rough walls of the cabin.  He abandoned the chore before it was completed.  “I’m more of a success as an Injun killer,” he told his wife as she inspected the messy job.  Louisa was grateful for her husband’s efforts.  (8)

William wasn’t the only one in the family who had dangerous dealings with the Native Americans who surrounded the post.  Louisa had her share of menacing encounters as well.  One incident occurred at the Codys’ cabin while Louisa and her friend, Mrs. Charles McDonald, were working on sewing projects.  They heard a noise outside the building and spotted hostile Indians lurking about.  The two women knew that braves were mortally afraid of drunken women, so the pair guzzled down a bottle of tea and pretended to be inebriated.  When the Natives saw their behavior they fled in terror.  William was pleased with the fact that Louisa could take care of herself if needed.  He worried less about the safety of his wife and baby when he was out on a scouting mission because he knew she was a capable woman.

The Codys’ marriage grew strong during their time at the fort.  The time they spent together during breaks between scouting expeditions and community activities was enjoyable.  They looked forward to the new baby they were soon going to have and building a life for themselves in Nebraska once William’s commitment to the army reached its end.  Louisa had big plans for her and her husband, but so did Ned Buntline.

Ned Buntline was a newspaper publisher and writer.  He was traveling through the region delivering lectures on the evils of drinking when he met William.  The two men were at Fort Sedgwick, Nebraska when they were introduced.  Ned was fascinated with the adventures the seasoned scout had experienced.  He spent hours questioning William about his life and listening to harrowing tales of near death experiences and survival on the untamed frontier.  Ned was so impressed with William that when he returned to his home state of New York, he penned a dime novel entitled Buffalo Bill: The King of Bordermen – the Wildest and Truest Story I Ever Wrote.  (9)

The book was a huge success and helped make William the most famous westerner to date.  The book became a series, and William read each installment with great enthusiasm and wonder.  He and Ned corresponded between novels, and any new stories involving the daring scout’s encounters with Indians were transformed into another book.  (10)

William’s popularity was still on the rise when his and Louisa’s son was born on November 26, 1870.  The couple named him Kit Carson, after the famed frontiersman William had met when he was a boy.  Not long after Kit’s birth, William was offered the job of Justice of the Peace of Cottonwood Springs.  The one-time Pony Express station and county seat for North Platte was one mile southeast of Fort McPherson.  A series of crimes were being perpetrated outside the jurisdiction of the post.  Government property was being hijacked coming into and going out of the army camp.  The post commander had no jurisdiction over the civilians who were behind the thefts which is why a judge to handle such legal issues needed to be appointed.

William was hesitant at first about accepting the job.  He told the post commander that he didn’t “know any more about law than a government mule does about book-keeping.” (11)  Believing the job would not only keep William close to her, but be a prestigious honor as well, Louisa convinced him to take the position.  William tracked down horse thieves, settled property disputes, officiated at weddings, and over divorce proceedings. (12)

William’s interest in scouting and buffalo hunting did not wane with his new position.  He was called on many times to guide buffalo hunting parties for such well-known men as General Phil Sheridan and the Grand Duke of Russia.  Louisa sent her husband out on such expeditions dressed in elaborate, ornamental garments she had stitched herself.  Those who accompanied him on various hunts, such as General Henry E. Davies, wrote in his book Ten Days on the Plains about how striking William looked.  “Tall and somewhat slight in figure, though possessed of great strength and iron endurance, straight and erect as an arrow, and with strikingly handsome features, he once attracted to him all with whom he became acquainted, and the better knowledge we gained of him during the days he spent with our party increased the good impression he made upon his introduction.”  (13)

The hunting parties William organized and led earned him a considerable amount of money as well as gifts of furs and priceless jewels.  He was mindful of providing for his family’s well-being, but was prone to mismanaging his income if Louisa did not intercede.  He was overly generous to his friends and made poor investment decisions.  Louisa was thrifty and, although she liked fine things, lived in moderation.

The buffalo hunt William planned for Russia’s Grand Duke Alexis resulted in not only a substantial fee for his work, but also a trip to New York.  William had always wanted to visit the east coast, and, out of gratitude for the excellent entertainment Cody offered him, the Duke made arrangements for the scout to make the journey.

Had it not been for the fact that Louisa was expecting their third child, she would have accompanied William on the excursion.  She made sure her husband was ready for his introduction into eastern society regardless.  She worked diligently on adding appropriate garments to his wardrobe.  “We procured some blue cloth at the commissary and, sewing day and night, I made Will his first real soldier suit,” Louisa recalled in her memoirs, “with a Colonel’s gold braid on it, with stripes and cords and all the other gingerbread of an old-fashioned suit of blues.”  (14)  (Colonel was an honorary title given to William by the Governor of Nebraska while serving in the Nebraska National Guard.)

William was well received at every stop along the tour of the eastern cities.  He was treated to fine meals with high ranking government officials and well-known entertainers.  He was invited to balls and introduced to troupes of beautiful women all seeking his favor and attention.  Journalists followed William everywhere he went and recorded what he said at the many events he attended, including a performance of a play written by Ned Buntline based on the novel the author had penned about the daring scout.

The audience gave William a standing ovation when they were informed he was in the theatre.  At Ned’s insistence, he reluctantly made his way to the center of the stage to take a bow.  The response prompted the backers of the show to offer William $500 to play himself.  “You might as well try to make an actor out of a government mule,” William told the theatre manager. (15)

William extended his trip by ten days and would have continued traveling a bit longer if not for an order from General Sheridan to return to Fort McPherson.  Before being rushed off to another uprising between the army and the Indians, he enjoyed a brief visit with his wife and children.  He shared the particulars of his trip with Louisa, but chose not to elaborate on the ladies he met at the various dances where he was a guest.  She learned the details of those outings on her own through the newspaper accounts of his journey.

William wasn’t home long before he hired on as a scout with another hunting expedition.  The time he spent away from the job in New York had made him feel a little insecure about whether or not he could still do the work.  “Why, Mamma,” he joked to Louisa,  “I’m such a tenderfoot right now from being away that I’d run if I even saw an Injun!”  In spite of his brief doubts, he proved himself on the wild plains again and again.

In the summer of 1872, he and his scouting partner, Texas Jack Omohundro, led a group of British sportsmen on a hunting trip that was attacked by North Platte Indians.  Not only did William protect the sportsmen from being killed or captured, but he also helped them acquire the buffalo they hoped to win.  William’s contribution as a scout for the military, combined with his work in helping to keep the peace on the wild frontier, was recognized by the U.S.  Government presenting him with the Congressional Medal of Honor.

In between the various hunting trips, military assignments, award ceremonies, and a short-lived stint in politics, William became a father for the third time.  Louisa gave birth to Orra Maude on August 13, 1872.  Not long after the baby was born, Louisa’s parents urged her to bring the children to St. Louis for a visit, and she agreed.

While his family was away, William decided to accept Ned’s persistent requests to travel with him to Chicago and appear as the lead in the stage play about Cody’s adventures.  William wrote Louisa of his intentions noting, “I don’t know just how bad I’d be at actin’.  I guess maybe I better find out.”  (16)

Ned assumed William would make the trip to Illinois with a troupe of westerners in tow (Indians, trappers, riders, etc.) who would participate in the show with him.  Texas Jack was the only person with him when he arrived in Chicago.  He was so excited that William had changed his mind about participating in the play that he wasn’t overly concerned about the additional casting.  However, the owner of the theatre where the program was to take place was furious.  Not only because William came to town with just one other person, but also because the play itself hadn’t been written yet.

The situation was quickly remedied.  Ned penned a melodrama entitled The Scouts of the Prairie; actors, dancers, and set builders were hired.  All those who hadn’t answered the call to go west were invited to see the play depicting the wilds beyond the Rockies.  On December 12, 1872, audiences flocked to the opening night performance.  The box office receipts for the debut show were more than $2,800.  Ned took his troupe of novice entertainers on the road.  Regardless of the poor reviews the show received for its writing and some of the performances, The Scouts of the Prairie was a financial success.

Louisa was taken aback when William announced he was going to resign as a scout for the army so he might continue with Ned’s show.  “His primary motivation was providing for the children,” Louise wrote in her memoirs.  “He wanted money to send the children to fine schools and give them everything they needed.”  By the end of the first season, William had earned more than $6,000.  It was more money than he had made in all the years he had been a military scout.

His family accompanied him on the road until he purchased a home for them in Rochester, New York in mid 1873.  After making sure Louisa and the children had all they would need until he could see them again, he rode off to rejoin the cast of Ned’s show and enjoy the additional fame the play offered him.

(1)  Yost, Nellie Snyder  Buffalo Bill His Family, Friends, Fame, Failures and Fortunes Sage Books  Chicago 1979  Pg. 18

(2)  Cody, Louisa & Cooper, Courtney Ryley  Memories of Buffalo Bill D. Appleton & Company  New York 1919  Pg. 155-157

(3)  Cody, William F.  An Autobiography of Buffalo Bill Cosmopolitan Book Corporation  New Jersey 1920  Pg. 137-140, Regli, Adolph  The Real Book About Buffalo Bill  Garden City Books  New York 1952  Pg. 141,  Yost, Nellie Snyder  Buffalo Bill His Family, Friends, Fame, Failures and Fortunes Sage Books  Chicago 1979  Pg. 4

(4)  Goodman, Julia Cody & Leonard, Elizabeth  Buffalo Bill: King of the Old West  Library Publishers  New York 1955   Pg. 188, Cody, William  The Adventures of Buffalo Bill  Harper & Brothers  New York 1904  Pg. 135

(5)  Regli, Adolph  The Real Book About Buffalo Bill  Garden City Books  New York 1952  Pg. 160

(6)  Yost, Nellie Snyder  Buffalo Bill His Family, Friends, Fame, Failures and Fortunes Sage Books  Chicago 1979

Pg. 40

(7)  Cody, Louisa & Cooper, Courtney Ryley  Memories of Buffalo Bill D. Appleton & Company  New York 1919  Pg. 196-205

(8)  Ibid.,  Pg. 160-164

(9)  Goodman, Julia Cody & Leonard, Elizabeth  Buffalo Bill: King of the Old West  Library Publishers  New York 1955   Pg. 195-196, Yost, Nellie Snyder  Buffalo Bill His Family, Friends, Fame, Failures and Fortunes Sage Books  Chicago 1979  Pg. 25, Cody, William F.  Buffalo Bill’s Life Story  Cosmopolitan Book Corporation  New Jersey 1920  Pg. 159

(10)  Monaghan, Jay  The Great Rascal: The Life & Adventures of Ned Buntline  Bantam Book  New York 1953  Pg. 4

(11)  Yost, Nellie Snyder  Buffalo Bill His Family, Friends, Fame, Failures and Fortunes Sage Books  Chicago 1979

Pg. 45

(12)  Cody, Louisa & Cooper, Courtney Ryley  Memories of Buffalo Bill D. Appleton & Company  New York 1919  Pg. 207

(13)  Davies, Henry E. & Hutton, Paul A.  Ten Days on the Plains Southern Methodist University  Dallas, TX. 1985

Pg. 25-26

(14)  Louisa & Cooper, Courtney Ryley  Memories of Buffalo Bill D. Appleton & Company  New York 1919  Pg. 218

(15)  Russell, Don  The Lives & Legends of Buffalo Bill Cody  University of Oklahoma Press  Norman, OK. 1979  Pg. 182

(16)  Louisa & Cooper, Courtney Ryley  Memories of Buffalo Bill D. Appleton & Company  New York 1919  Pg. 232

Tessie Wall

Barbary Coast Madam

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 entertained passerbys 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 he was involved with.

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 chocked 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 theatre, alone. Standing on the steps of the building, he lit up a cigar and cast a glance into the night sky. Preoccupied with 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 backwards he grabbed hold of the rim of a nearby stage. Tessie unloaded two more shots into his upper body. Frank collapsed in a bloody heap.

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, God-damn 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 when she was 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 repiratory 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 Wall’s marriage ended in bitter divorce.

Historians believe heartbreak over her child’s death and 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 time Tessie’s “lodging house” had become so successful that she was able to open a second brothel.

Tessie Walls’s bordello was visited by some of the wealthiest business men 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 was just as ornate. She had a giant, gold Napoleon bed decorated with swans and cupids. The dresser and matching mirror was 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 often forgot what they came for.

Tessie Wall knew the importance of advertisement. The method she used to promote her house was unconventional, but effective. She would clothe her girls in the latest garments 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 consumed enormous quantities of wine and drink most men under the table. Often times 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 for herself 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 the 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 theatres. 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 Hayman learned what Tessie was doing she began taking her ladies to the theatre too. On Sunday nights the two madams would try and best each other with grand entrances that seemed to upstage the performers. Determined not to be out done, 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 peak 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, bell boys, head waiters, chefs at restaurants and cabbies to be paid handsome sums to direct wealthy men to the finer parlor houses. Such help was generally worth ten 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 the state. 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 their business. Construction on new houses of ill repute were 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 and 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 blonde. A thirty something brunette known as Black Gladys garnered the most attention at the home.

Madam Wall’s parlor house on 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 bottles 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. He was cleaver, smart and well respected in the community. It was that kind of respectability that Tessie longed for. After a whirlwind courtship and significant persuasion on her part, the pair were 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 Daroux’s 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, was elected to office. The conservative public servants wanted to stamp out gambling and prostitution in San Francisco. Once the Daroux’s 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 themselves and the city. He attended posh social engagements and rallies unaccompanied by Madam Wall.

The more powerful Frank became politically, the more he tried to persuade 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 wrangle 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.

Having managed to get herself on the guest list for many more engagements, Tessie was able to convince Frank that she was no longer political poison and was now worthy of a church wedding. Frank consented to a public ceremony, but was adamant about Tessie retiring from the business.

This time she acquiesced and transferred the management of the house to one of her employees. Given the magnitude of the sacrifice, Tessie expected Frank to do something for her. At her request he promised to make all the arrangements for the reception and agreed to her guest list, choice of music and location.

Once a priest who would marry them was secured a wedding date was set. Nearly two years from the date Frank and Tessie were initially married, the two renewed their vows. The second ceremony was held in the rectory of St. Mary’s Cathedral.

Within hours of the nuptials the Darouxs were exchanging insults. Frank had disregarded all of Tessie’s requests for the reception and she verbalized her irritation in a toast where she announced that she was returning to her parlor house business as quickly as she could. Towards the end of the evening the pair had once again reconciled. Frank took that opportunity of brief calm to present his wife with a wedding gift. News of the expensive gesture of affection made the papers the following day.

“$10,000 Pearl Necklace Wedding Gift to Bride/Frank Daroux Marries Miss Theresa Donahue.”

The San Francisco Chronicle – July 12, 1911

After a brief honeymoon, Frank and Tessie returned to the lives they had made for themselves. Frank kept active in politics and oversaw business at his gambling dens. Tessie focused on her brothel. Religious groups staunchly opposed to parlor houses began a crusade to drive them out of business. Madam Wall’s place was a prime target. Frank did nothing to stop the powers-that-be from threatening her livelihood. But that was the least of her problems. Unbeknownst to Tessie, her husband was betraying her in a more profound way.

The Daroux’s relationship had always been a volatile one. They never shied away from quarreling in public. Frank grew tired of the embarrassing outbursts and was frustrated with the way it was diminishing his influence on key political figures. His attention eventually turned to a less combative woman he met at a fund raiser. In 1915, the two began having an affair. Tessie found the pair out and vowed to kill the woman if she came near her husband again. Frank stayed in the marriage another two years before walking out on Tessie and filing for divorce.

Like all of the other disagreements Tessie and Frank had in their eight years of marriage, the fight over how their union would end was made public as well.

Tessie made it clear to all who would listen that she did not want to lose Frank and she contested the divorce numerous times. After a long and vicious court battle the marriage was finally dissolved.

Tessie returned to her house to nurse her wounds. Her heart was broken. She couldn’t accept that Frank was officially out of her life. In a desperate attempt to win him back she secretly followed him around, waiting for a chance to speak with him and convince him to return to her.

The evening Frank was shot the two had quarreled over Tessie’s threat to appeal the divorce. Frank warned his ex-wife that he’d “break her” if she went through with the action. He hurled a string of obscenities at her as he turned and walked away. She heard from a friend that Frank and his mistress were going to attend the theatre that evening and she decided to confront the two there.

“Then I didn’t know what I did,” Tessie explained to the police after the shooting. When asked about the gun Tessie told authorities that she bought it because of the other woman. “That woman took my husband away from me,” she cried. “For three or four years she has been going with him. It made me mad.” Tessie pleaded with police to take her to the hospital where Frank was so she could see him.

As they transported the sobbing madam to the sanitarium, she professed her undying love for her “darling husband.”

Frank was conscious when Tessie entered the emergency room. The three bullets she had emptied into his upper torso had missed his vital organs. Doctors expected him to make a full recovery. The police escorted Tessie to his bedside and asked Frank if she was the one who shot him. “Yes, she shot me,” he responded. “Take her away. I don’t want to see her.” According to the San Francisco Chronicle, “Tessie Daroux lifted her handkerchief to her face in a gesture of horror and reeled back into the arms of the officer.”

Madam Wall was booked on a charge of intent to kill and held without bail for three months. Bail was finally granted when Frank was given a clean bill of health. In a move that surprised everyone, Frank announced to authorities that he had made a decision not to press charges on Tessie. She took the news as a sign of his continued affection for her and filed an appeal on the divorce. Frank had hoped the incident and his willingness not to prosecute would drive Tessie away. Once he found out that she was appealing the divorce he changed his mind about pressing charges.

?

The shooting and subsequent court activity was front page news. The scandal reeked havoc on Frank’s political future. His peers informed him that he was a liability and suggested relocating. Frank agreed, reversed his decision again about having Tessie prosecuted and made arrangements to marry his mistress.

Days before Frank was to marry the other woman. Madam Wall again took gun in hand. This time she set out to kill her rival. When she found her eating lunch at a popular restaurant, Tessie shot through the glass window at the future Mrs. Daroux. Her aim was poor and the woman was not hit. Tessie was arrested and while she was being held, Frank remarried. With the stipulation that Tessie not be released until they left town, Mr. And Mrs. Daroux agreed not to press charges. Frank and his bride then moved to the east coast.

Madam Wall went back to her parlor house, boxed up all of the busts and painting she had of Napoleon and stored them away. She never fully retired from the trade and remained a controversial figure throughout the duration of her life.

On the morning of April 28, 1932, Tessie pulled an impacted tooth that had been bothering her. That evening she died of a hemorrhage following the extraction.

Newspapers marked her passing with an obituary Tessie had preapproved.

“One more bit of “the San Francisco that was” has drifted off in that uncharted Sargossa that holds the old Barbary Coast, the Poodle Dog, the Silver Dollar, the Bank Exchange, the Mason Street Tenderloin and those other gay haunts that made San Francisco famous through the Seven Seas.”

The San Francisco Chronicle – April 30, 1932

Mrs. Teresa Susan Wall Daroux was 63 years-old.

“Drink that up, boys! Have a drink on Tessie Wall!”