Journal Notes

A summer reading suggestion.

Enter to win a copy of How the West Was Worn:

Bustles and Buckskins on the Wild Frontier

It happened in Dodge City, Kansas.  A stranger in town asked a resident where he could find Bat Masterson.  A lawyer who overheard the question broke in and said, “Look for one of the most perfectly made men you ever saw, a well-dressed, good-looking fellow and when you see such a man call him ‘Bat’ and you have hit the bull’s eye.”

Masterson was known for his trim, neat style, his derby hat, tailor-made pants and jackets, and linen shirts imported from France.  He was proof that being a tough lawman did not mean one had to dress like a cowhand.

To learn more about the trend setters of the legendary Old West read

How the West Was Worn:  Bustles and Buckskins on the Wild Frontier

Enter to win a copy of How the West Was Worn:

Bustles and Buckskins on the Wild Frontier

The Great Lillian Russell

It is generally understood that the costumes worn by Lillian Russell are novelties and models of the American dressmaker’s art… The styles have never been known until they came into grace on the perfect form of the “Divine Lillian.” The San Francisco Call, California – 1894

With her voluptuous figure, high plumed hats, and bejeweled gowns, Lillian Russell was the talk of the fashion world in the Gay Nineties. Onstage, she dared to wear purple tights and calf-high dresses that showed her naked ankles. Offstage, she was a meticulous dresser, adorned in diamonds and lace taffeta outfits. She was considered to be the ideal female of her generation, representing all that was glamorous.

To learn more about Lillian Russell’s style and other legendary trendsetters of the Old West read How the West Was Worn:

Bustles and Buckskins on the Wild Frontier.

Enter to win a copy of How the West Was Worn:

Bustles and Buckskins on the Wild Frontier

Amelia Bloomer modeling a pair of world famous bloomers.

Elizabeth “Baby Doe” Tabor was one of the Old West’s legendary trendsetters. The Colorado socialite had golden hair, blue eyes, porcelain skin, and a sense of style that rivaled that of any woman in Leadville. She arrived married to a struggling miner but dressed like she was the belle of the ball. She paraded down the main street of town wearing a sapphire-blue costume with dyed-to-match-shoes. Her stunning style caught the attention not only of neighbors and storekeepers but also of millionaire Horace Tabor. Horace and Elizabeth scandalized the community by falling in love, divorcing their spouses, and marrying one another. Horace showered his new bride with jewels and the finest outfits from Boston and Paris. She wore one-of-a-kind outfits to opening nights at the opera house he had built for her.

All eyes were on the young Mrs. Tabor as Horace escorted his young bride into the theatre. Her dresses were made of Damasse silk, complete with a flowing train made of brocaded satin. The material around the arms was fringed with amber beads. The look was topped off with an ermine opera cloak and muff. Pictures of the Tabors appeared in the most-read newspapers, and soon, women from San Francisco to New York copied the outfit. The only part of the costume admirers were unable to reproduce to their satisfaction was Mrs. Tabor’s $90,000 diamond necklace.

To learn more about the trendsetter of the Old West read

How the West Was Worn: Bustles and Buckskins on the Wild Frontier

Enter to win a copy of How the West Was Worn:

Bustles and Buckskins on the Wild Frontier

Baby Doe Tabor

Enter Here

Elizabeth “Baby Doe” Tabor was one of the Old West’s legendary trendsetters. The Colorado socialite had golden hair, blue eyes, porcelain skin, and a sense of style that rivaled that of any woman in Leadville. She arrived married to a struggling miner but dressed like she was the belle of the ball. She paraded down the main street of town wearing a sapphire-blue costume with dyed-to-match-shoes. Her stunning style caught the attention not only of neighbors and storekeepers but also of millionaire Horace Tabor. Horace and Elizabeth scandalized the community by falling in love, divorcing their spouses, and marrying one another. Horace showered his new bride with jewels and the finest outfits from Boston and Paris. She wore one-of-a-kind outfits to opening nights at the opera house he had built for her.

All eyes were on the young Mrs. Tabor as Horace escorted his young bride into the theatre. Her dresses were made of Damasse silk, complete with a flowing train made of brocaded satin. The material around the arms was fringed with amber beads. The look was topped off with an ermine opera cloak and muff. Pictures of the Tabors appeared in the most-read newspapers, and soon, women from San Francisco to New York copied the outfit. The only part of the costume admirers were unable to reproduce to their satisfaction was Mrs. Tabor’s $90,000 diamond necklace.

To learn more about the trendsetters of the Old West read

How the West Was Worn: Bustles and Buckskins on the Wild Frontier

Enter to win a copy of How the West Was Worn:

Bustles and Buckskins on the Wild Frontier

George & Elizabeth Custer seated.

Did you know that pioneer women sewed lead in their hems to keep their dresses from billowing on the trail?  Or that hatless men had to wear bonnets to protect their eyes from the scorching sun?  From old familiar Levi’s to the short-lived “instant dress elevator,” the book How the West Was Worn examines the sometimes bizarre, often beautiful, and highly inventive clothing of the Old West.  You’ll learn how a cowboy’s home state determined the way he wore his pants and hat, as well as how to distinguish one Indian tribe from another by their moccasins.  Meet John B. Stetson, leading maker of cowboy hats; Adah Menken, whose flesh-colored nylon costume left an audience gaping at her underwear; and Amelia Jenks Bloomer, the promoter of – you guessed – the bloomer.  There were a number of legendary trendsetters in the Old West.  Clothing historians believe that no couple made more of an impact on western fashion than George and Elizabeth Custer, George, the “Boy General,” carried on his duties as commander of the Seventh Cavalry dressed in fringed, buckskin breeches and a jacket, a navy-blue shirt with a wide falling collar and red cravat.  His men so admired the look that they adopted it for the entire regiment.  Custer’s sense of style extended to women’s clothing as well.  Elizabeth accompanied her husband on field maneuvers dressed in hoop skirts that measured five yards around the bottom.  But at times, the prairie wind would blow the skirt up and expose her petticoat.  So George designed an outfit for his wife that included a military-style riding jacket, a pleated undershirt, and a less cumbersome skirt.  Strips of lead were sewn into the dress hems to keep it weighted down in a strong breeze.

To learn more about the fashion that shaped the Old West read

How the West Was Worn: Bustles and Buckskins on the Wild Frontier

Last chance to enter to win a copy of the Bedside Book of Bad Girls:

Outlaw Women of the Midwest.

Nineteen-year-old Jennie Freeman stared pensively out the partially opened window of the tenement building where she lived in Chicago, Illinois.  A cold, gentle breeze blew across the bed she was lying on, and she pulled the dingy blankets that were draped across her legs around her waist.  Jennie was a petite, bespeckled girl with mousey-brown hair and green eyes.  She was a fierce reader, proven by the many books stacked around the bed.  A stern-faced doctor stood over her fiddling with a stethoscope.  When he finally placed one end of the stethoscope on Jennie’s chest, she turned her attention from the busyness on the street outside the window to him.  After the doctor listened to his patient’s heartbeat, he scratched his head, perplexed.  He eyed the wheelchair next to the bed and sighed a heavy sigh. Jennie’s mother, Fannie entered the room from the kitchen carrying a tray of food.  She was a large woman of dark complexion who wore diamond eardrops and a large marquise ring.  She looked worried and carefully studied the doctor’s face, waiting for a verdict.

The doctor lifted the covers off Jennie’s legs and studied her feet.  He removed a straight pin from his medical bag and touched it to Jennie’s foot and calves.  No matter what he did, he could not get her limbs to even twitch.  After a few moments he stopped the examination, pulled the blanket back over Jennie’s legs, and began packing his medical instruments into his bag.  Fannie sat the tray she was carrying on a nightstand next to the bed and took her daughter’s hand in hers.  The doctor confirmed what the troubled mother had suspected – Jennie was paralyzed.  As the doctor put his coat on and exited the cramp, poorly-lit home, Jennie was crying and Fannie was comforting her.

Jennie incurred her injury when she got caught between two cable cars.  The intricate system of street railways in downtown Chicago had malfunctioned on January 9, 1893, and the cars collided.  Jennie was found on the ground writhing in pain near the accident.  After a short stay in the hospital to treat her cracked ribs, bruises, and cuts, she was released into the care of her mother.  Two days later she claimed she couldn’t move her legs from the thighs down.  A railway company physician verified the report.  Believing it would be cheaper to settle than it would be to go to court the company paid Jennie five hundred dollars.

To learn more about the Freemans read the Bedside Book of Bad Girls:

Outlaw Women of the Midwest.

Enter to win a copy of the Bedside Book of Bad Girls:

Outlaw Women of the Midwest

A fierce wind filled with alkali dust blew past Silas Toles, a Labette County, Kansas farmer, as he made his way to his neighbor’s seemingly vacant home.  Three other farmers followed tentatively behind him.  An endless prairie stretched out on either side of the weather-beaten building.  A hungry calf languished in a nearby fenced enclosure bawled pitilessly for something to eat.  A handful of dead chickens lay scattered about the parched earth leading to the house.  The front door was ajar and creaked back and forth.  Silas cautiously walked to the main entrance of the building and glanced inside.  Light from the late afternoon sun filtered through partially drawn curtains onto the sparse, shabby and torn furnishings in the center of the one room home.

Silas pushed the door open and stood in the dirt entryway.  The home was in complete disarray; clothing, books, paper, and dishes were on the floor; bugs covered bits of food on a broken table, chairs were overturned and a pungent smell of death hung in the air.  The three men with Silas held back waiting for him to motion them forward.  The sound of fast approaching horses distracted the quartet and they watched with rapt attention as several riders hurried to the spot and quickly dismounted.  Colonel A. M. York, a distinguished, bearded man dressed in the uniform of an army officer, led a team of Civil War veterans and lawmen to the entrance of the home.  They pushed past Silas and the others and boldly entered.

Colonel York surveyed the room and kicked away the debris at his feet as he walked around.  He wore a determined, yet forlorn expression.  The group with the Colonel examined the area along with him and inspected the items underfoot carefully.  One of the men noticed a collection of Pagan artifacts including a pentagram and Tarot cards in the corner of the room.  Some of the articles were covered with dried blood.  Colonel York followed a trail of blood from the artifacts to a mound of fresh earth under a pile of soiled sheets.  Kneeling down in the dirt he scooped the earth out until he reached a crude door.  The men around stared wide-eyed at the oddity waiting for the Colonel to make the next move.  One of the lawmen brushed dirt away from a round handle attached to the door.  Before giving it a pull he glanced over at the Colonel to see if he wanted to continue the search.  The Colonel was quietly transfixed by the scene.  The lawman interpreted his silence as an affirmative answer and quickly pulled the door open.  The foul stench that wafted out of the dark hole hit the men like a punch in the face.  There was no question the source of the odor that had offended their senses from the moment they entered the home was coming from this location.

To learn more about Kate Bender read the Bedside Book of Bad Girls:

Outlaw Women of the Old West

Enter to win a copy of the Bedside Book of Bad Girls:

Outlaw Women of the Midwest

A crowd of customers at the Bee Hive Saloon in Fort Griffith, Texas slowly made their way over to the table where Lottie Deno and Doc Holliday had squared off.  They cheered the card sharps on and bought them drinks.  Lottie won most of the hands.  The talented poker players continued on until dawn.  When the chips were added up, the lady gambler had acquired more than thirty thousand dollars of Holliday’s money.

“If one must gamble they should settle on three things at the start…,” Doc said before drinking down another shot.  “And they are,” Lottie inquired?  “Decide the rules of the game, the stakes and the quitting time.”  Holliday smoothed down his shirt and coat, adjusted his hat and nodded politely to the onlookers.  “Good evening to you all,” he said as he made his way to the exit.  Lottie smiled to herself as she sorted her chips.  Holliday sauntered out of the saloon and into the bright morning light.

Historians maintain that it was only natural that Lottie Deno would have grown up to be an expert poker player –  her father was a part-time gambler and who had taught his daughter everything he knew about cards.  She is recognized by many gaming historians as being the most talented woman to play five card draw in the west.

For more of Lottie Deno’s story read the Bedside Book of Bad Girls:

Outlaw Women of the Old West.