Frontier prostitutes, by nature of their profession, often found themselves in trouble with the law. It was not uncommon for a lady of the evening to be accused of blackmail, theft, or even murder. Such was the case of a soiled dove in Northern California accused of murdering a miner. The curious criminal proceedings were held before Justice John Anderson in 1852, and an article in an August edition of the Union Times attempted to unravel the mystery for its readers: A public woman, popularly known as “Old Harriet,” kept a saloon on Broad Street, overlooking Deer Creek. She had a man, who kept bar for her, and did any necessary fighting. Opposite her establishment was a dance house. A man named Pat Berry was mining on the opposite side of Deer Creek at Gold Run. Owing to a recent freshet, there were no bridges at the foot of the town, but a tree had been cleared of limbs and felled across it, over which foot passengers made their way. The stream was still high, and raged among the naked boulders and logs, which were then innocent of tailings. On Saturday Berry came over to town, having made some money during the week, and rigged himself out with an entire new outfit of clothing. He spent the evening until late at the dance house and then went over to Old Harriet’s place, which was the last ever seen of him alive. In the course of the night, a man in the neighborhood heard what he took to be a cry of “murder,” but he may have been mistaken. Two or three days after, about six miles below Nevada, in an eddy in the creek, Berry’s body was found, completely naked. On the forehead was a large, extravagated wound, the blood discoloration proving that this wound was given while the person was alive. Finding him in this condition led to search for previous traces of him; and it was discovered that he had passed the evening at the dance house, and then gone to Old Harriet’s where all further trace of him was lost. Harriet and her fighting man were arrested and charged before the Justice with murder. McConnell prosecuted and Sawyer defended. The examination lasted several days. The prosecution proved that Berry had money, traced his movements the night of his death, as herein stated, showed that the wound on his head must have been given while he was alive, and that it was made with some round, blunt weapon; that there was a pair of scales on Old Harriet’s counter, and a large weight, which would produce such a wound; the condition of the body, with a new, strong suit of clothes entirely missing; which, it was contended it was impossible could be torn off by the stream, or at least, without greatly marring the body, which was intact, except the death wound on the head. The cry of murder was also proven, leaving a close kitted theory by the prosecution, well sustained before the drowning. As to the missing clothes, it was argued, though with less confidence, that they had been stripped off by the water, rocks, and logs. The case was so puzzling that the Justice took it under advisement for several days. While he was considering it, two men walked the log in company, when one of them pitched off and disappeared. Everybody turned out to find the body, but the search was unsuccessful for several days, when it was found in the eddy below the town from which Berry’s body was taken. The head of the new victim was marked with the same kind of extravagated wound as that of the first one, but there were no other wounds on the body, and all his clothes were gone except his shirt, which was turned inside out and hung at the wrist. The Berry case was at once reopened and this evidence of what might happen was submitted: “The Lord has intervened to save an innocent woman!” Of course the accused went free. If only all the people falsely accused of a crime could be set free.

Madams and the prostitutes who worked for them added to the atmosphere of trouble in explosive towns across the Old West. Some women made a fortune, some remained paupers, others escaped the life of a sporting girl by committing suicide. Soiled Doves were a significant part of the new frontier and their contribution to cow towns and gold rush camps is the subject of the book entitled Pistol Packin’ Madams. Some people believe that the prostitutes in the early mining camps lived a life of wealth, luxury and good times. Although there was wine, whisky, gold and high times, the life of a prostitute wasn’t all glamorous. Newspapers, letters court records and diaries reveal that their lives were invariably tragic and often depressing. Throughout the month of August I’ll be focusing on stories about these colorful women and the often tragic lives they lived. And now…a bit about prostitute Tessie Wall. 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, 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 respiratory complications. Tessie was devastated and following her husband’s example, took up drinking to dull the pain. Read more about Tessie Wall at www.chrisenss.com.