SOILED DOVES

    The old west was home to more than cowboys. In addition to merchants and professionals, there were trappers, loggers, prospectors and other laborers. Most unskilled jobs were beyond the physical strength of the average woman who ventured out onto the frontier. Positions that remained socially acceptable (seamstress, laundress, milliner, waitress, etc.) paid very little. Owners usually tended their own shops; schoolteacher positions were scarce; and few towns  lacked a seamstress. Single woman who lacked independent financial resources had to make a living in a difficult and rugged man's world. Many unprotected and desperate woman turned to prostitution. History records more than a few of these "soiled doves".

    Of the nearly forty thousand residents of Montana recorded by the 1880 census, more than six thousand lived in and around Helena. Helena had no city charter; no paved streets or sewers; but it did have nine hotels, two banks, fifteen lawyers, ten doctors, and two undertakers. Saloons and brothels outnumbered all of these significantly, and were the boomtown's true measure of prosperity.

    Charlie Russell had grown more devil-may-care as he began his ninth year in Montana; and the saloons and brothels became a second home.  Much of his enjoyment was found in the company of  woman whose virtue was negotiable. In Helena, where Charlie spent most of his time when not in Judith Basin, there were at least half a dozen sporting houses employing nearly a hundred girls. Numerous customers reported seeing Charlie's drawings pinned to the walls of brothels, although the consensus is that they were presents, not payments for services rendered.  


 

                                              


PAINT ME RED

 


Lured by more than just her face,
  the painter stopped at Molly's place;
  and there he tarried for awhile,
  enjoying more than Molly's smile.

    But when the tender night was gone,
    chased away by jealous dawn,
    the painter wanted something more.
    He yearned to paint the pretty whore.
    
    He vowed to paint the grief inside;
    and all the tears she couldn't hide.
    To be precise, he said his goal...
     it was to paint Miss Molly's soul.

     "Paint me bawdy. Paint me red!
     But paint me with a smile", she said.
     sometimes it's better just to hide
     the heartaches carried deep inside.

    "I'll pose the way you ask of me...
     but leave my soul and sorrows be.
     I don't explain to any man.
     I play my cards the best I can.

    "Paint me bawdy. Paint me red.
     Paint me on a crimson bed.
     It beats the view and hue I knew....
     tarpaper shack, bone-chilling blue."

                 Bette Wolf Duncan©1999

 

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