Press Release

For Immediate Release:

Lonely Hearts Advertise;
Object Matrimony

Grass Valley, CA. – Optimistic men and women pioneers expressed their desire for a spouse in advertisements that ran in popular frontier newspapers and magazines. A new book entitled Object Matrimony: The Risky Business of Mail-Order Matchmaking on the Western Frontier offers readers an entertaining look at the serious business of finding a husband or wife by mail-order in the wide-open days of the Old West.
Desperate to strike it rich or eager for free land, men went west alone and sacrificed many creature comforts. Only after they arrived at their destinations did some of them realize how much they missed female companionship. One way for men living on the frontier to meet women was through personal ads placed in newspapers such as Matrimonial News. Eventually a man might convince a woman to join him in the West, and in matrimony.
Object Matrimony: The Risky Business of Mail-Order Matchmaking on the Western Frontier was written by Chris Enss. Enss is the author of more than two dozen books published by Globe Pequot Press on the subject of women of the Old West. The national launch of the book will be held on Saturday, October 6 at the Nevada County Narrow Gauge Railroad Museum in Nevada City, California from noon until 3 p.m.. In addition to sharing stories about frontier mail-order brides and marriage brokers with guests that attend the launch festivities, musical entertainment and refreshments will also be available. A wedding dress made by fashion designer, Christian Goodwin for Prairie Lace Designs, will be given away at the launch as well.
Object Matrimony: The Risky Business of Mail-Order Matchmaking on the Western Frontier will be available in bookstores everywhere in October. For more information contact the Nevada County Narrow Gauge Railroad Museum at 530-470-0902 or Chris Enss at 530-477-8859

# # #

Some frontier teachers had a harsh rule they strictly enforced. They believed “Lickin’ and larnin’ goes together, No likin, no larnin.” (Now I’d start with “lickin” the teacher here, not only for the idea but for such poor spelling, but that’s just me). The forgoing dogma was basic to the educational philosophy of the old days. Lessons were regarded as a commodity to be pressed into reluctant vessels – the pupils – and a birch rod or hickory sick was used to accomplish this end. Legally in loco parentis, teachers relied upon it more heavily to enforce discipline, their devotion to scholarship often measured by the number of backsides they had reddened. Humanitarians, a tiny minority, thought otherwise, among them a former schoolmaster named Walt Whitman, who complained of the “military discipline” of the schools. “The flogging plan is the most wretched item yet of school-keeping,” he thundered. “What nobleness can reside in a man who catches boys by the collar, and cuffs their ears?” But such criticism posed no threat to corporal punishment, which was extremely hailed as a healthy and indispensable practice. (One inveterate disciplinary referred to his weapon as “my board of education.”) And concomitant with this belief went an austere mistrust of improvements to the physical plant because they were a “luxury.” A Washington Territory schoolmarm’s plea for the installation of toilets was turned down by the school board, which advised her that “there were plenty of trees in the yard to get behind.” Even her suggestion to replace the single well dipper with more hygienic individual cups was denied as being “undemocratic.”

Rural schools were handicapped not only by size – one room for all ages – but by the quality of instruction they dispensed. Teaching was an occupation of minimal prestige, with low pay, low standards and a high turnover rate. It was said that anybody could be a teacher, and while no doubt some were fine, dedicated individuals, most proved shiftless and unimaginative-products of the very systems they perpetuated. Because children supplied essential farm labor, the school year lasted barely twelve weeks, from Thanksgiving through early spring. It was hardly enough time for learning, or to encourage a teacher who genuinely sought results. And the salaries – in 1888-89 an average of $42.43 a month for men and $38.14 for women, grudgingly relinquished from frugal budgets-attracted mostly young men in transit to a profession or women who declared themselves schoolmarms to get away from a suffocating home life. Sometimes the teacher was a girl younger than several of her pupils, and almost as ignorant. Teachers were compensated for their low pay by being allowed to alternate free board and lodgings with various families. But many could not endure the accompanying scrutiny given their private lives and quit in disgust after a term or two, leaving the curriculum in chaos. Clarence Darrow recalls: “We seldom had the same teacher for two terms of school, and we always wondered whether the new one would be worse or better than the old.” To read more about teachers on the rugged plains read Frontier Teachers: Stories of Heroic Women of the Old West. Go to www.chrisenss.com for more information.

When my brothers and I had this picture taken it was one of the happiest times we had together. If we only knew what was in store for us then we would have savored the moment a bit longer.

Being a fan of western films, I think it only fitting from time to time to note some of the great lines from those movies. Given the fact that I’ve focused on soiled doves this month I’m going to focus on dialogue pertaining strictly to those ladies of the evening. From the movie Escape from Fort Bravo – Southern Belle Carla Forrester (Eleanor Parker) and Captain Roper (William Holden), discuss marrying soiled doves. “The women always look beautiful when they get married and the men always look scared,” Carla tells the Captain. “They both get over it,” the Captain replies. Although she wasn’t portrayed as a soiled dove in the movie Calamity Jane, Jane was indeed a prostitute at one time. Wild Bill Hickok, played by Howard Keel in the film, comments on actress Adelaide Adams to Calamity Jane played by Doris Day. “She’s lovely. Charming figure. Everything a woman ought to be,” Will Bill boasts. “Looks like a fat-frilled, upside undressed beef to me,” Calamity remarks. From the movie The Deadly Companions starring Brian Keith and Strother Martin. “I sure hope this town has some pretty girls in it,” Strother comments as they ride toward a village looking for some nocturnal company. “You get this far out in the brush, they’re all pretty,” Keith reminds him. And finally, from one of my favorite flicks, Destry Rides Again starring James Stewart and Marlene Dietrich. Dietrich ran the saloon and made sure all the male guests were taken care of. “Wait a minute, lady,” Stewart calls out to Dietrich. “Who you calling a lady!” Dietrich snaps back. To learn more about the soiled doves of the Old West and the lives they led read Pistol Packin’ Madams. To order the book visit www.chrisenss.com.