In August of 1902, Sergeant Frank Smith of the Dawson police testified that while working undercover he had arrested Margaret Benoit and Paulette Barge after observing them walking the streets for three weeks, accosting men.

"Did they have any explanation when you asked them what they were doing?" asked the judge.

"Yes, they said they were screwing for three dollars," Sergeant Smith answered.¹

For every actress and dance hall girl who made a fortune romancing Klondike Kings, there were dozens who didn't have the luck, the looks, or the knack. Many came to rely on prostitution for the bulk of their earnings, using their dance hall jobs as opportunities to meet customers under a semi-respectable cover. Most of the entertainment palaces were built with saloons and gambling halls attached to the theater, with the main entrance through the saloon, so there was no embarrassment in being seen at the door.² Even respectable theaters used sex as an advertising draw. The Combination promised "Every Evening a Bevy of Beauties in Title Roles," while the Tivoli advertised "The Finest Formed Women in the Klondike," along with such bland classic billings as Uncle Tom's Cabin.³

Operation of a cigar store also was an excellent front, but required capital. Some enterprising prostitutes established laundries to solicit through, but such deceptions required real work. Doing enough laundry to keep up appearances was a chore, while a dance hall girl was required to spend from six to twelve hours a night on her feet, dancing and hustling drinks for the house.

The majority of Dawson prostitutes, probably between 200 and 250 at any given time during the peak years, never bothered with subterfuge because sticking to their specialty offered better money. In the same time it took a dance hall girl to make one dollar dancing, a common streetwalker could turn a trick for three dollars, and a better-looking, higher-skilled woman of the demimonde could easily make twenty times that.

E. C. Trelawney-Ansell, who seems to have done considerable field research, reported that "for a very hurried entertainment—usually fifteen minutes—the 'ladies' charged four ounces ($64), but they weighed the dust on their own scales, which were crooked, with their own weights (ditto), and helped themselves from the miner's poke (bag of dust). The result was that they usually finished up with at least eight ounces."⁴

To put these figures in perspective, realize that the going wage for a male laborer was one dollar per day in the States and from five to eight dollars per day in Dawson. The cost of living in the Far North was proportionally higher, but cabin rental ranged from twenty to thirty dollars a month, giving prostitutes an excellent margin.⁵

In the beginning, of course, there were no cabins. The first prostitutes on the scene worked out of tents without fear of arrest. Women were so scarce that few citizens objected. Prospector Mont Hawthorne wrote of suffering merciless ribbing from his friends when his dog, Pedro, became attached to one girl.

"He'd gone right down by town and moved in with one of them sporting women. She had pitched her tent there on the street, with her name wrote on the front of it in big letters. When she was busy she would put him outside; and there Pedro would set in front of her tent until she let him in again," the miner recalled unhappily. "I'd go by and call him and he'd come along with me for a while. But just as soon as he could sneak away, back he'd go to visit Big Sal again. I sure got tired of the way he was doing. Every time when I went downtown the boys would say: 'Why Hawthorne, I didn't expect to see you down here. I just seen your dog waiting for you outside of Big Sal's tent.'"⁶

CIGAR STORE MADAM?
Perhaps. Many prostitutes who had capital used cigar stores as a front to sell love. On the other hand, the cigar trade was lucrative enough that a woman would make money at a legitimate operation, which may be the case here, as Margie appears to be posing willingly for the Dawson photographer in 1899.
ASL, Larss and Duclos photograph, PCA 41-35.

Pedro probably spent more time outside the tent than in, because business was brisk. Lines of waiting customers often formed in front of the most successful operations.

When it became evident that Dawson had a major gold strike and that the boomtown was wide open, professionals flocked in from all over the world, including Colorado's Mattie Silks, probably the most famous madam in the American West. Mattie was a friend of Soapy Smith, a Denver crook who had gained control of Skagway, Alaska's gateway city to the Klondike. Originally she planned to work with him there, but she changed her mind after overhearing him and his gang members discuss their plans to rob her.⁷

DAWSON IN 1899
What had started as a tent city of a few hundred, just two years earlier, spread far and wide with a surprising number of “permanent” buildings at the height of the Klondike rush. The red light district, in the heart of the business district when this photo was taken, was later moved across the river to Klondike City (also known as Lousetown). It was accessible by a narrow bridge built at the far end of the Eighth Avenue in Dawson.
YA, #3739, Larss and Duclos photograph.

Electing to go farther north, Mattie scaled Chilkoot Pass in the spring of 1898 with her handsome lover, Cortez Thompson, and eight prostitutes in her hire. From William Jenkins, proprietor of the Sourdough Saloon, she rented a good-size frame building on Second Street for $350 a month. Her girls averaged about fifty dollars per night, from which Mattie took 50 percent off the top, plus board. Her expenses were high because she ran a first-class house, but her net profit was enormous, inflated by her sale of champagne at thirty dollars per quart and of whisky made from grain alcohol at a cost of sixty dollars a gallon which sold (when colored and diluted) for $130.

Despite her success, or perhaps because of it, Mattie quit to go south that fall. Well past her prime with a face like a pug dog—looking like an army tank in the ruffled silk gowns she favored—the madam was concerned about the health of her much younger lover. Cortez Thompson had caught cold that rainy summer, playing faro in Joe Cooper's drafty Dominion Saloon. Mattie is said to have left with $38,000 in profit from her ninety-day stay after she paid off Cortez's heavy gambling debts.⁸

Mattie Silks's major competition was a madam named Beatrice Larnne, but big operations—although standard in most western cities—were rare in the north. In fact, the only other madam who emerged from the Klondike Rush a legend was "Diamond Lil" Davenport, who had survived basic training in the Chicago underworld to establish her own business in Skagway.

Diamond Lil's house was considered the most lavish in the region. She employed reputedly the best pianist in Skagway and several excellent singers who performed popular ditties of the day—"Swannee River," "Climbing up de Golden Stairs," and of course, "There'll Be a Hot Time in the Old Town Tonight." The major attraction, though, was Lil herself, who stood nearly six feet tall and was known not only for the astonishing diamond collection she always wore,⁹ but also for her remarkably good looks.

"I remembered seeing her for the first time at dinner . . . sitting alone several tables away, aloof and silent; only talking to the waiter a few times. She was a fascinating person to watch, a young woman of unusual beauty with the bearing of a queen—tall and stately, beautifully gowned, fair skinned, velvety eyes, and a complexion like the inside petal of a lovely white lily," wrote Ella Lang Martinson in an account of a trip she made north on the SS Rosalie, traveling with young daughter Clemy in June 1898 to join her husband.

"After dinner I had noticed that she kept absolutely to herself and had spoken to no one. Clemy and I had sat near her while looking at magazines, but actually it was difficult to look at anything but Lady Lily. Clemy, frankly, stared at her! She was reading a book and never looked up. Suddenly I was shocked to see her fingers when she turned a page. There were rings of all shapes and sizes on every finger, and on both hands, including her thumbs. Then, I was shocked again. I could see that she was reading one of the cheapest dime novels of the day, completely taboo in refined society. The main characters were depicted in suggestive poses on the garish cover!"

On arriving in Skagway, Martinson was shocked to learn who "Lady Lily" really was. "Certainly nature had fashioned her into a perfect beauty and at first glance she did appear to be a person of real refinement," she conceded. "But 'Diamond Lil' was a courtesan in the fullest sense of the word, only entertaining the obviously rich clients who could pay handsomely for what she had to offer. Nevertheless, she was fully entrenched in the 'world's oldest profession.'"¹⁰

Although a recognized member of the Chicago underworld, Lil was known to be honest in running her house of ill repute and was never arrested. She returned to her hometown with a fortune, but made the mistake of choosing as her paramour a hood named Big Joe Hopkins instead of his rival, the city detective who eventually shot him. By the time her beauty faded, she had run through her riches, but she made an honest living in her final years as a scrubwoman for a Seattle bank.¹¹

The rank and file of Dawson whores had even fewer options than their elite sisters who grew rich cultivating a few well-heeled lovers. Few prostitutes could afford to be selective in their clientele,- however, exceptional freedom was accorded them in the early days of the boom. Although prostitution was illegal in Canada, the Northwest Mounted Police under Inspector Charles Constantine were more concerned with controlling petty criminals and preventing crimes of violence than policing morals. Inspector Constantine did outlaw the wearing of bloomers, a forerunner to slacks which were considered scandalous. But whores were allowed to solicit on the streets and in the bars, and to work anywhere they pleased. Those with capital invested in the town's choicest lots. Others rented rooms over respectable downtown businesses, soliciting out of the upstairs windows in good weather.

Dawson newspapers initially refrained from using any form of the word "prostitute," referring delicately to the "demimonde," "the soiled doves," or "the tenderloin." They even maintained Victorian restraint when high-profile entertainer Nellie "the Pig" Lamore beat the stuffing out of the toe-dancing "Petite Sisters Pickering" after they made the mistake of snubbing her on the street.¹²

In covering a brawl at the Pavilion following the loss of $3,100 by one of the proprietors in a blackjack game, a reporter noted delicately that two dance hall girls involved called each other "names that would not be tolerated in polite society."

“DIAMOND LIL” DAVENPORT
One of the most colorful madams of the Klondike era, Diamond Lil was based out of Skagway, a major gateway city to Dawson. She had connections with the Chicago underworld but was known to be completely honest in runner her house of ill repute. She left the Far North with a fortune, but soon lost it all, ending her days as a scrubwoman in Seattle.
YA, MacBride Museum Collection, #3829.

A DRINKING BEE
Photographers Larss and Duclos did a fine series of photos in Dawson’s red light district, captioning them with whimsy. The woman at the far left is identified as Madame Brunell, but the other happy drinkers remain nameless.
YA, MacBride Museum Collection, #3795, Larss and Duclos Photograph.

"Miss Aberdeen had the misfortune to quarrel with Gracie Robinson. Evidently the fair Miss Aberdeen has the valor required of veterans, but her discretion is as poor as that of the taurus which attempted to derail an express train," he wrote tactfully. "Her temerity in precipitating a wordy altercation with Gracie is admirable, but anyone who knows Gracie would pick the latter for a winner and back her as a lead pipe cinch." Gracie Robinson did win the fight, and Miss Aberdeen was rescued by her pimp before she suffered much physical damage.

Writers were forced to resort to more straightforward coverage when, in a very public waterfront brawl, Bertha "the Adder" tore off all of "Seattle" Emily's clothes, then chased her naked victim through town, pelting her with rocks.¹³

A number of researchers have assumed the life of a Dawson prostitute was grim. Historians Kenneth Coates and William Morrison argued that most prostitutes "led miserable lives, abused by pimps or succumbing to alcohol."¹⁴ Charlene L. Porsild, in her thesis on the rush, flatly states that the majority of Klondike prostitutes were overwhelmingly poor, citing financial information from the 1901 census.¹⁵

While there were many unhappy sagas of prostitutes and dance hall girls, a few well-documented suicides, and some juicy murders, careful study shows that these had more to do with lovers' quarrels and failed personal relations than the traumas of the skin trade. Nor would the same statistics have been abnormal for a population of "respectable" shop girls and wives during the same period, when more than a few led miserable lives, were abused by their lovers, and succumbed to alcohol.

As for income, one could assume that prostitutes—most of whom worked under aliases—would not have been inclined to openly discuss their wages with government officials, especially as Dawson police began campaigns to entrap, arrest, fine, and jail them the very year the census was taken.

Given the minimum remuneration of three dollars to a low-class streetwalker for a quick trick (documented in court by the Dawson police), and the fact that the inmate of a house of ill fame there could clear twenty-five dollars a night after giving half her take to her madam, any working girl would have had to be pretty slow not to do better than break even, in spite of expensive tastes and Dawson's high cost of living at six dollars a day.

"It was said that some girls made as high as two hundred and fifty dollars a night, but this could only be done by 'rolling,' which meant getting a man drunk and stealing his poke," noted society matron Martha Black, who briefly considered all options when she found herself flat broke and pregnant in Dawson after deserting her wealthy husband.¹⁶

Resorting to crime wasn't necessary, however. "Mukluk Maud" Rouselle, an actress considered past her prime at age twenty-five, left an estate of $2,000 exclusive of her mining property, when she was shot in August of 1899 by Harry Davis, a jealous lover who committed suicide on the spot. True, Maud was employed as a stage comedian at the time. But her estate was well in excess of what she could have accumulated on her salary from the Monte Carlo Theatre, and she was not given to rolling drunks.¹⁷

Also popular was Miss T. Ksa Yameyachi, who apparently operated independently from the usual pimp, for she amassed an unusual amount of wealth.

"The last request of Miss T. Ksa Yameyachi, the Japanese woman who died from pneumonia on Fourth Avenue Saturday [1901], was that her body be embalmed and kept here until the opening of navigation when it will be sent outside to her sister in Portland [Oregon], who will take it to a San Francisco cemetery, after which the ashes will be sent to the end of the Mikado," the Daily Klondike Nugget reported.

"Ksa left $9,000 in a bank in Japan besides a good-sized account in one of the Dawson banks. She also owned a claim on French Hill which was presented to her by an admirer last year."¹⁸