UNTANGLING the Saloon Girl Myth

This western saloon photograph is absolutely authentic, right down to the bobcat... except for one thing. Research and common sense dictate that the girl, the saloon girl in the front, she never happened. At least not like this... and that is why after a tremendous hunt over a decade, I had to fake this photo... *************************************************************************************** The myth of the Old West saloon girl being admitted in the previous blog (see below), I thought it would be interesting to try to trace back, and ask, how did Hollywood get it so wrong? *************************************************************************************** Where did our beloved, scantily clad, frontier alcohol schleppers come from? If they are a myth, what on earth were the writers and producers and directors of many hundreds of films and television shows thinking? It could not have been education, or history, or the truth... what might have been their rationale? And why did millions of Old West fans tolerate it? *************************************************************************************** Besides the fact that sex sells... ***********************************************************************************

Sure there were “saloon girls”... but in most cases far different from what has been repeatedly depicted on television and in the cinema. When we search the historical photographic record, we can not find any basis for the icon well established in our Western culture; The brazen hussy, slinking around Hollywood-created saloons, wearing as little as possible, except for a ridiculous hat topped with a colorful plume which adds to her slink... her skirt removed from her front, allowing full disclosure of her thighs, but following in tassels behind like a vapor trail.

Young women, and men, enjoy role-playing... of stereotypes which never existed. ***************************************************************************************** She hangs around the saloon, dressed to kill, chronically bored, dutifully entertaining enthusiastic cowboys, who are determined to make fast friends and end up in a bed somewhere, or anywhere, barely learning these girl's names. It was highly suggestive, sex on demand. But fees for services rendered never come up in the dialog. You were supposed to know what it was all about... if you did not, then you were probably too young to understand these things.

Little boys, who watched it all in admiration and wonder, could never understand that this was the beginning of their lifelong Hollywood acculturation, which presented women as primarily objects of sexual desire- professionals in fact, who should be waiting at a saloon near you, ready to pour you a drink, make you feel good, arouse your passion and then succumb to it as a matter of obligation. Man, would most of them be disappointed. ***************************************************************************************** Playboy magazine picked up this male-oriented cultural expectation when Westerns began to fade from the daily fare, ensuring that American boys turned into unhappy sexual tyrants in adulthood. We can never measure the negative impact these shows had on our youth and mental development. American boys grew up wondering... where were all of those beautiful, sexy girls who were so accommodating to those smelly, dirty, lucky cowboys? ***************************************************************************************** Most of us shrugged at the myth- it was fun, if not artistically amusing, even if it was as realistic as the freaks in Star Wars. Who knew? Who lived back then, so who could verify one way or another? Who could prove that these Western tarts were any more or less real in our past than those Star Wars creatures might be in our future? And so they persisted till this very day. Western reruns insure the eternal existence of the saloon girl myth, regardless of her origins in the salacious minds of Hollywood creatives who made her as American as the Statue of Liberty. ***************************************************************************************** And since there was such a dearth of historical evidence of western saloon female employees, and such a great demand to use females in western productions, it was only natural, good business, to give the public what it wanted. Besides, nobody wanted to watch prostitutes cavorting in the saloons as they actually did, taking reservations, hustling customers with not-so-subtle advertisements using innuendo unfit for children's ears. The saloon girl, whatever she had been, became the Hollywood solution, a convenient cultural amalgamation, a deliberate conflation of saloon girl, bar maid, dance hall girl, vaudeville entertainer and prostitute. And that was not only simplistic, and unrealistic, it was a slam on almost all of the women who ever worked in a saloon.

So here is the process as I understand it... how so many innocent working girls in saloons all across the West became fancy vixens of shame. The assumptions which created the Western saloon girl, which went unchallenged for nearly a century, were that since women in the Old West were fairly rare, and would have to have been crazy or desperate to find themselves in these hell towns, if they were not prostitutes when they came, they probably joined the sex-trade soon afterwards. Or they certainly hoped so. Hollywood ordained that they gladly accepted jobs in these combo bar/dance hall/brothel/opera houses and dutifully provided whatever services paid the best. Westerns perfunctorily skimmed over the cooks, maids, seamstresses, nurses, teachers and other female towns-persons... and made the saloon girl the jacke of all trades...

But what would she have looked like, this wonder girl of pleasure- how might she have presented herself? Hollywood designers could find very little evidence for a saloon girl “look,” no fashion which said, “I am your waitress and entertainment for the afternoon... let me fetch you a cigar, or a beer, or some sex.”

Saloon barmaids, and there were a few, wore aprons and bonnets or hair nets, and were sweaty from their toils.

Prostitutes usually wore very un-sexy attire, so as to not flaunt their lawlessness. They tried to keep a fairly low profile, wearing clothing which conservatively covered them from neck to toe. In the brothels they often wore large, shapeless white gowns, which looked like frilly smocks. Around town they would be hard to pick out in a crowd... except that they might have been wearing the most beautiful and expensive clothing in town.

So Hollywood turned to Vaudeville for inspiration. It was known that Vaudeville entertainers came through the larger towns regularly, and the female Vaudevillians often wore very suggestive costumes. In fact, these entertainers, professional singers, musicians, rope-jumpers, poetry reciters, and dancers, wore scandalous outfits condemned by everyone but those who paid to see them. They were wild, and colorful, and unforgettable. Here was a Pandora's box of sexy costumery.

Understand, the women who donned these outfits were amazing, hilarious, brilliant and brave professionals, and even sometimes talented, who traveled in companies well protected by male bodyguards. Nobody got near them. Money, gold and silver nuggets were thrown upon the stage, as lonely, love-struck miners and cowboys emptied their pockets in adoration... but it got them no closer to their latest sexual fantasy. These bizarre sirens of the stage, bedecked in flamboyant wigs, low-cut blouses, colorful stockings and frilly short-shorts, were untouchable, not available at any price, at least to the common folk. They may or may not have made themselves available to prominent gentlemen callers, but only ones who would lavish expensive gifts, rather than money. Their costumes were their stock and trade, not to be touched and felt and grabbed by the unwashed.

Saloon girls did not wear such things. They had to wear practical clothing. In a single night, they might have to fend off several drunks, dodge cigar ashes, dance with a dozen men, carry a half-dozen mugs of beer across the floor, many times, trying not to spill some along the way, and getting some on their dress... which had to be washable, because accidents happen. And maybe daily. And they had to constantly wear a smile, so that the customers would buy more alcohol, on which they received commissions on the sales.

Saloon girls were sales personnel. If they were not too busy, they might agree to a dance with a cowboy or two... fellows they liked, who understood that they had to pay for that pleasure too. Then at closing time they had to turn in their receipts and clean up the place after fifty drunks had trashed the place. They wore working girl clothes... and maybe some ribbons or a little jewelry to make themselves feel attractive... but they wore their hair short, to avoid beer and slobber, and their dress was only a few inches shorter than the average woman on the street. NOBODY ever saw their legs, or their chest, and certainly not any cleavage.

The very first entertainers in Western saloons were probably flamenco dancers and the guitarists and fiddlers who accompanied them. “Spanish” music was often the fare, and “Spanish” flamenco dancers were known to wear more suggestive clothing... low cut blouses, a sexy flower in their hair... a person might be able to see their calves when they twirled. Sometimes Irish music found its way into the saloon.

Later German polka music, played by “Hurdy-Gurdy” girls became the standard. A hurdy-gurdy was a German instrument, which was played by a musician in the old country while a girl danced for tips... The name became synonymous in America with “dance hall girl,” female entertainer, or anything “proper folk” imagined went on in such questionable places.

The idea that saloon girls served drinks all night and then suddenly hopped up on a stage and broke into the can-can dance is absurd. Most saloons had no stage. When they did, these dances were provided by traveling entertainers, who (usually) would not be caught dead waiting on drunks, or wrestling with them. These dances and short plays were a special treat, and not always available. But the prostitutes were, and were allowed to hang around the place, daily, as long as they behaved. It is said that they usually paid a commission to the bar owner.

Many saloon girls were just poor country girls forced into work to survive. A significant percentage fell into the sex-trade, but more ended up getting married and putting those days behind them. Out West, propriety had little to do with status. A predominance of the most famous men of the Old West were either pimps or whore-mongers. A saloon girl had little to fear, in a place where a person's reputation was enlarged by their counter-cultural behavior. ***************************************************************************************** Saloon girls were not necessarily dance hall girls. Sometimes, often times there was also no dance floor available. Besides the fact that they were often quite busy, and unable to make themselves as attractive, saloon girls were usually not the apple of the average customer's eye... *****************************************************************************************

Dance hall girls, like the ones above from Arizona, were employed at large dance halls, sometimes adjacent to saloons, but not always. These halls featured professional bands, and more refined atmosphere, and more importantly, the girls where usually more attractive, younger women, whom men were willing to pay to be next to. If they were not attractive, men in the West learned not to be that selective. They were at least, WOMEN! It was not unheard of for miners or lumberjacks or cowboys to dance with each other when women were too scarce. A woman of any kind was a treasured thing.

“Hurdy-Gurdy” or dance hall girls were usually dressed well, and had no other responsibilities... and they would dance with you if their card was not yet full. A dance card was the prepared list for the evening's music, which each girl carried, and male dancers would reserve dances with certain girls for certain songs. The men had to pay, so it was not often that a girl was all tied up by just one partner. If she was, this was the equivalent of “going steady.”

These women wore dancing gowns, often with a minimal bustle, often a nice white dress which had previously been a confirmation dress... or somebody's wedding dress. The hems were kept above the heels to prevent tripping... so ankles were barely visible. They “spruced up” these make-do ballroom dresses with ribbons and perhaps a corsage... but necklines were kept very proper... but open at the base of the neck to allow for ventilation. Those halls got terribly warm. Hair, again was kept short, or tied up to stay out of the way. Men were bad about wanting to stroke and pull it... best to keep it out of reach. ***************************************************************************************** Remember, these courageous young women were often dancing with total strangers, being held, twirled, and dragged about like rag dolls. Often times these dance partners were tipsy, or worse, and not always polite or gentle. These dance hall girls earned their money, as dancing all night took energy and some skill, and tons of patience. It was often a dance hall girl who taught a new dancer how to dance...

So, what DID they look like, those Victorian female icons of frontier fun? "Saloon girls," or bar maids, or whatever they may have been called; they may have been pretty boring looking in the beginning, compared to the Hollywood vision of them... Here are some images I have collected over the decades... and digitially restored... and colorized, to try to capture the spirit of the times.

When we consider the various women and the purposes they served in association with the Western saloon, we cannot find a single one which would have worn the sexy, fancy outfits we are accustomed to seeing in every Western. Each job had its demands, and each its suitable attire. So typically, Hollywood just stuck them all in French Can-Can costumes, and ran with it; Bar maids, saloon girls, dance hall girls, prostitutes, all the same. Imagine if every man in the same Western was dressed as a circus performer... and you might begin to fathom the silly, shallow, inexcusable absurdity. We have been brain-washed by sexist, lascivious lies.

And no wonder young American couples quit meeting one another's naive expectations... and divorce rates sky-rocketed, and homo-sexuality with them... and all of us red-blooded American males grew up believing in SALOON GIRLS, and lots of other Hollywood myths. If you are still shaking your head in disbelief, read LEGENDARY WATERING HOLES, The Saloons That Made Texas Famous, 2004, Texas A&M Press. Here several authors explore the most famous saloons in Texas, and the cultures in which they thrived... and struggled. Saloon girls are never even mentioned. You cannot find the term in the book index. According to this book, they were not even a thing.

The closest acknowledgment of any semblance of saloon girls was Chuck Parson's chapter on the Iron Front Saloon in Austin, where he compared Austin's strict written and unwritten codes about women in saloons to those of San Antonio. San Antonio was more like El Paso, as in wide open, and Jack Harris had "female drink servers" at his Vaudeville Saloon and Theater, which would have been illegal and unwanted in Austin, where saloons were proudly reserved "for men only." ************************************************************************************************

The myth of the American saloon girl is like the sun, The more we look at her, the blinder we get, and the less we can see anything. The term "Saloon Girls," in most instances, appears to have been merely a euphemism, a nice way to identify a possible prostitute without using an ugly word... because in many major cities, even by the 1880's, prostitution was frowned upon if not illegal, and any woman inside of a saloon was assumed to be a whore. Most saloons which were owned by women were in fact fronts for brothels. Ginnie Banters in Jerome, Arizona, Lottie Deno's in Jacksboro, Texas and Silver City, New Mexico, had saloons in tandem with their brothels.

There were saloon girls, but most saloons were off limits to all women... and saloon girls probably evolved over time as saloon proprietors got married and their wives helped out in the family business. Female saloon employees were predominantly drink servers, bar maids, and would probably have been insulted if someone called them a "saloon girl," which originally meant a woman involved in the sex trade. When a bunch of indignant female saloon employees banded together to change their public image in Cripple Creek, Colorado, and made public appeals, they referred to themselves as "dance hall girls."

They were working girls... actually some of the first in the country not employed in sweat shops, and proud to have jobs, even if these jobs required no small amount of humiliation. They fiercely held on to their self-respect, and resented the stereotype promoted by the newspapers and "proper" society, and demanded more respect from both. They would have been very put-out with how they have been depicted for the past one hundred years... *********************************************************************************************** Only Hollywood could have or would have ignored such a large and important demographic, all while they contrived a genre that barely existed, if at all, while making the world's oldest profession a glamorous, iconic, and ubiquitous institution in our imagined past. Read on and get an introduction to the REAL dance hall girls of the American west...

A REAL DANCE HALL GIRL wrote it down...

Above- a real dance hall girl, as described by a real dance hall girl... **************************************************************************************** People my age grew up watching GUNSMOKE on television, and Miss Kitty was a household word. Hollywood did a great deal over many years to fabricate the myth of the western saloon girl, and Miss Kitty was the female icon of every wanna-be cowboy's eye. The idea of the female saloon owner/manager was created so as to include women in Hollywood scripts, but there were very few in real life. And Miss Kitty's big hair, sexy attire and solid, midwestern values were something of a contradiction. How was it, really?

Lottie Deno (ABOVE), Squirrel-tooth Alice, and a few others certainly ran their own saloons, but they were mostly remembered because of their unique roles in a “man's world.” And along with the myth of the female saloon manager, was the western saloon girl, bedecked in a colorful, Moulin Rouge costume, feather in her hair, swaggering among the men with legs exposed like Esther Williams about to dive into the pool...

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No less than Norman Rockwell, America's premier illustrator, joined in the perpetuation of the myth... This was a movie poster for a remake of STAGECOACH, starring Ann-Margaret. ****************************************************************************************** It might be impossible to set the record straight about this, a runaway train of merry misinformation, because western history buffs today are mostly male, and they love the vision of sexy saloon girls sitting around the poker tables, legs crossed, knees shining, swigging beer and swinging their feet like bait before a large-mouth bass. But we will try here to at least tell you how it really was... ******************************************************************************************* You don't have to like it... ;)

First of all, last of all, there is so little original, period material to work from, that Hollywood was able to drive its eighteen wheeler full of nonsense right into the west and park it in the space reserved for SALOON GIRLS. I have searched for years for articles, photographs, anything that might shed light on the saloon culture of the 1870's. There is almost nothing. I found the tintype above after a decade of watching tintypes for sale on ebay. Photographs of western saloons almost never show even one woman in them. Maybe a horse, or a dog, or even a stuffed bobcat, but never even a hint of Miss Kitty. A few photos made in Montana show what appear to be prostitutes in their moo-moos, and some from the mid-west show husband and wife owners standing proudly in their establishments... but still no leggy, feather-headed flirters. ***************************************************************************************** I have found some evidence of the true saloon girl, and some readers will be greatly disappointed. Some of my female readers might be pleased... because all evidence points to a much less lusty, much more conservative appearance for the western saloon girl. Ft. Worth or Dodge were a long way from Paris, where the popular, ribald saloon girl costumes made famous in Hollywood came from. And as the illustration for a French poster shows, even those girls had hems fairly low, back in the day.

Let's stop right here and address where I am going with this. Some female readers may be reading this, hoping to learn a little about the cute saloon outfit they are planning for a costume party. You can stop right now... this article is not for you. There is so little in common between the truth and the myth, and you are caught up in the myth; one contrived by men to objectify women, that there is no compromise. This article will disappoint you, and all the men looking forward to your... objectification. I am no prude, and love to look at sexy women too... but they have very little place here in Hidetown. Here is where we try to wade through all of the bull, and learn about the real American West. So sex-pots, you are free to go. Your history began in Europe, around WWI. **************************************************************************************** Here at Hidetown, among many other stereotypes of the American West, we try to delineate the subtle difference between saloon girls, bar maids, saloon entertainers (musicians), dance hall girls and prostitutes. In some cases, one woman might have served all of these purposes. In larger establishments in larger towns, women could specialize. But not all saloon girls could sing, or dance, or had great legs, or sold their bodies. Many of them had regular male companions and would not sell themselves to anyone. Saloon girls were hired to fraternize, flirt, and encourage beer and liquor sales. Some of them might be able to sing or play the piano... and so they might not have to schlep drinks... and could wear fancier outfits. I have learned to read these basic facts in antique images... and have collected some great old tintypes, which may illustrate these various roles played by women in the western saloon. One thing I have deducted is the massive influence German immigrants made on the saloon trade. It was German "hurdy-gurdy" girls who invaded the bars in the mid-century and brought European music and fashion to the Midwest. These ladies display a variety of styles, but mostly reflecting the various looks of those hurdy-gurdy girls, who became the standard for all dance hall girls afterwards.

So after a lifetime of Hollywood misinformation, prepare your mind to rewrite history as you know it. ***************************************************************************************** The first and main point is simple. Many western saloon girls looked and dressed like most other women, especially in the early years of the West. Take the average Victorian woman, perhaps add an apron, perhaps shorten her dress a little to allow freedom of movement, maybe let her put her hair up to get it out of the way, even have her wear a hair net, and maybe put on a little bling... and that's it. She might have a flower in her hair on a special occasion. She might wear a “low-cut” dress, exposing her collar bones, if she was sassy. She might even let her hair down to flow on her shoulders... if she was feeling really daring...

When I painted my murals at Washington on the Brazos, I learned that the Mexican flamenco dancer was the springboard for the Southwestern saloon girl legend. That concept spread from Texas and California throughout the West. So let's start there.

The pleated dress, about ankle high, the low-cut blouse, the hair held up and pinned by a tiara, and out of the way, a carnation behind her ear, this was the sex-symbol of the cantina. Many Victorian girls found this a bit too provocative, and dressed according to Mid-western standards... until sexier girls down the street took business away from their saloon... and so they responded with many variations of what they thought was acceptably sexy. We should note that Victorian girls had been donning low-cut dresses at their “coming out” parties, for decades... and Southern girls were already beautifully adorned with tear-drop ear-rings, gold chain necklaces, tiaras, and flowers in their hair as a matter of custom, by the 1860's. But with Hollywood's help, the standard saloon girl costume got more than a little bit out of hand... ***************************************************************************************** The real cultural barrier was the hem of the skirt. Even ankles were customarily hidden. Raising dress hems was a scandal. This is why it took forty years for dress hems to raise just six inches... and it should be noted that acceptable ladies fashion was usually leading the way to more liberal hemlines, not the saloon girls. Saloon girls had to wrangle with drunk cowboys and miners who needed no encouragement to manhandle them. If there was a place where a girl needed to “look” like a lady, it was a saloon, even if she was faking it. Unwelcome advances could get someone killed, because every pretty girl had a willing, and probably drunk avenger, who was probably packing some heat.

Lizzie Beaudrie, a real, honest to god saloon girl, who actually wrote one of the rare, first-hand, detailed accounts of a western saloon girl, left us with a sincere, accurate picture of her culture. She had a typical experience, and like most saloon girls was ushered into the culture by a sorry man who saw her looks and brains as an asset to be exploited. She was not a prostitute... but she came close to that before she met a man who saved her from that life.

Lizzie, illustrated above and at the beginning of this article, was tough and game for what came, and took a job as a saloon girl to support her man, a gambler in one of the toughest places in the West- Cripple Creek, Colorado. It was the 1890's when Lizzie came on the scene. The western saloon was well established, and its culture in full swing. The various roles of women had been pioneered and were well understood. There was some crossover, but women, just like men could be “read” by their attire. Lizzie gave a very thorough description of her saloon attire... which was shared by all of the saloon girls in her place of employment... where only the colors might change. She started by shooting down the saloon girl myth...

“I have seen so many moving pictures and read so many stories about dance hall girls that I am going to tell you how they dressed. The pictures and stories I have read and seen had them dressed in low-neck, no sleeve, short dresses trimmed with spangles and tight fitting with lots of jewelry on and flowers in their hair...” **************************************************************************************** Lizzie does not make it obvious, but she is describing a look she knows to be THE MYTH... She continues by describing the first saloon girl she ever saw... and one she was soon to be working with ... **************************************************************************************** “She wore a velvet suit, a short pleated skirt up to her knees, a white silk blouse, with a sailor collar trimmed with narrow lace, long sleeves with turned back cuffs, and a little Eaton jacket to match her skirt. The shirt and jacket were trimmed with gold braid. The suit was black. She wore black stockings and spring heel patent leather slippers. Her hair was cut short and curled all over her head.” **************************************************************************************** This was the uniform more or less. Very conservative compared to today's standards, in one of the most wild and woolly towns in the mine-fields of Colorado. Other girls might wear the same kind of outfit, only in different colors. And then there were a few with “Short lawn dresses with a drop yoke, and little ruffles on the bottom of the skirt.”

Then Lizzie takes direct issue with the Hollywood myth: “... Not a girl there wore a tight-fitting dress or very much jewelry, and the girls all looked clean.” ****************************************************************************************** If I am not mistaken, Lizzie wanted say that her chosen profession had, at least, a wholesome exterior. The girls who sold beer and liquor carried “a purse under their outside skirt,” where they put money and charge tickets. In the saloon where Lizzie worked, there was an adjacent dance hall, so she was serving drinks and dancing when requested. Dance Hall girls all across the west were often just economically disadvantaged girls who took advantage of an easy job where a girl was paid just to dance with a lonely cowboy. Dance Halls were a social traditon all across America... and there was no insurmountable stigma to overcome if a young woman of her class took such employment...

Saloons tried to be a one-stop-shop... where a miner or a cowboy could get drunk, meet a girl, even dance with her, and if she was also a prostitute, get ultimate satisfaction, all in one place. Where prostitutes were acknowledged, there were rooms available for them to serve their customers. In many towns, where the sex trade was outlawed, they had to take their clients elsewhere. These were sometimes nearby cabins, called “cribs.” This was the sad, sordid, unhealthy career some women found themselves in, which was usually a trail of heartbreak, drug addiction, and early death. These women, often poor and despondent, usually dressed in flowing smocks, with few undergarments... they would use the local dance halls to pick up customers. The numbers of "johns" they reportedly serviced in one night would astound anybody...

Lizzie soon learned who did or did not participate in this lucrative sideline. There was a bizarre network of sexual relationships... and this was all over the West, where the most powerful men usually had an interest in some way with the saloon/dance hall, and "their women" were often employed in them. Some were just dance hall girls, others bar maids or saloon girls, some were prostitutes. If a woman had a man, someone she “belonged” to, Lizzie soon learned they were extremely jealous and even deadly when that bond was threatened. Once she had to fight for her life against an enraged, knife-wielding saloon girl, who assumed her man-friend's attentions were intentionally solicited by Lizzie, who had not learned yet to avoid eye-contact with certain men. Many a gambler like Doc Holliday traveled with a particular woman, who often worked as a prostitute while the male gambled. And when he lost their money, the girls always had some to finance the next town... Holliday, the Earp brothers, many gamblers had this kind of understanding with their paramours... They provided protection, some status, and bail money if necessary, and probably casual pimping, until the town had been sufficiently milked, one way or the other. **************************************************************************************** Often the girls were abandoned and left to fend for themselves in a hostile environment where the mirth soon evolved into morphine addiction. Lizzie Beaudrie was no exception. But she got out of it before her life was totally ruined, and even had the pluck to write her story. It has never been made into a movie... her tale just did not fit the Hollywood narrative, where women were usually mindless sex-objects, looking for a good, rich man in a frontier hell-hole, and things hardly ever working out for them. Well, at least that last part was true for many a poor girl.

Here are some of my girls... saloon girls I believe... who would earnestly love to tell you their stories too... and probably make you cry...

Lottie Deno: Queen of the Fast Lane

If you gathered all of the Old West buffs and historians in the world and had an election, and picked the most notorious, most mysterious woman to rise to infamy in the entire American West, Lottie Deno (above, in her fifties) would be one of the major contenders, if not the hands-down winner. Based on my my lifetime of readings, and before my latest research, next to Etta Place, I would have enthusiastically nominated her. Via a multitude of short biographies in regional histories, Lottie Deno left a huge footprint on Texas frontier history, being written about generously by numerous Western writers who wanted to add a powerful female personality to their Old West pantheon.

Only in recent times have Lottie's later years come to light... where she primarily starred (as above) as a local baby-sitter. But it is sad to say, her carefully sculpted legend is like the ancient Sphinx, majestically carved from sedimentary sandstone, then eroded beyond recognition. It has not weathered the test of time and the erosion of scrutiny. Very little of the beloved, traditional story of her formative years has any basis in actual documentation, and what documents have surfaced have shed the glare of exposure rather than clarity. ****************************************************************************************************************** I hate reporting this fact, which is more accurate than most of the stories about her which I have read and cherished for years. ************************************************************************************************ And that is not to say that she was not documented or that she did not have an extraordinary life... But most of what you know is balderdash; stories of her mysterious Southern plantation origins, a veritable refugee of pervasive Civil War devastation, wandering the West as an ace gambler and humiliator of other famous Western gamblers, such as Doc Holliday; legends of her fierce mind and unique courage in the roughest places frequented by the toughest characters in the West; New Orleans, San Antonio, Ft Concho, Jacksboro, Ft. Griffin, Ft. Clark. Yes she was in some of those places, but it was not like you think. ****************************************************************************************************** Every account from the popularized Lottie Legend upheld the pure adoration that her male peers had for her, and not just for her gambling ability, but for her ladylike behavior, and her stellar reputation as a steadfastly moral and upright person. And every account loved to visit and explore the last place she was known to be, the place of her glorious ascension, before she suddenly and mysteriously disappeared into history- her humble shack on the edge of Ft. Griffin, on the edge of the “Flats,” an abandoned hovel among the squalor and stink of a frontier hide town...

The faces above, which you might be used to seeing ... are not her. Almost all of the popular pictures posted on the Internet representing Lottie are not her. But lack of authentic photography was only the beginning of the erosion of her legend. It turns out that a great deal more smelled bad there than was ever reported by so many smitten fans, who were obviously “nose blind,” and fact-challenged. And we can trace the gloss of her legend back to one of Texas history's most wonderful story tellers... J. Marvin Hunter. The erroneous likeness on the left above was first introduced by Hunter in his Frontier Times magazine. But to be fair, Hunter never outright lied about Lottie, he just chose, out of courtesy, to repeat what he heard and leave out a few facts. You know, personal information which sometimes mucks up a good story. Hunter also gladly repeated glowing reports by old-timers which helped invent - and cement the Lottie he thought best served Western lore: Lottie Deno as saucy good girl among bad men. **************************************************************************************************** I'm sure he did it for every Old West enthusiast, young and old, who could have used a positive female role-model. And of course he did it for himself, because he would not have had a story at all about Lottie had he not promised that he would keep some sensitive items confidential, and swearing “Scout's Honor!” Every writer runs into this kind of compromise- “I'll tell you, but you have to promise not to repeat this, and never use my name... and make up whatever story you have to... but you must protect those who are still alive...”

Marvin Hunter had met Lottie Deno as a young newspaperman, a respectable woman living in Deming, New Mexico, years after her “disappearance,” then living under a completely different name. Seen above with a neighbor family who treated her like a relative, Lottie was a classy elderly lady and he did not completely comprehend or pursue her or her mysteries. Years later, and after her passing, he figured out the importance of her story, and went back to track down the facts and try to piece together her amazing saga... and determined to fabricate something printable, by interviewing those closest to her and then he wrote down the angelic bones of her public legacy. ************************************************************************************************ That was the puddle that began the expanding lake of hogwash since. Nobody can blame “Lottie” for wanting to protect her dignity, or her associates who helped couch Hunter's gracious spin on her life. But many a well-meaning “historian” used Hunter and his narrow myth to launch their own entertaining tribute to the wonderful, mysterious, saintly ace gamblerette, who, when she left this world of sin and degradation, bequeathed all her earthly belongings to the poor. So many of you are reading this and hating me already. “When you have to make a choice between the truth and legend... print the legend.” Isn't that how it goes? ****************************************************************************************************** Believe me, I hate writing this particular segment... but she is after all, the most prominent woman of “Hidetown.” ****************************************************************************************************************************** I'm sorry. I have to tell you, I was just as stunned, when I began to research this wonderful female character in our beloved Western lore and legend, and found that at least two books have come out in recent years, effectively clearing up the whole story... and exposing the real “Lottie Deno.” In the process these authors have not besmirched Lottie as much as Marvin Hunter's reliability, but I believe even he loved the truth more than status or profit... and probably wanted to tell everything... had he not made (I propose) those crippling assurances to get the scoop. ****************************************************************************************** So allow me to bring you up to speed with the Texas frontier's “Queen of the Fast Lane.” Rather than remind you of the twists and turns of the old Hunter myth and its tributaries, I'm going to lay it down as briefly as I can, trusting these newer authors and the documents they have discovered... and even a few finds of my own. It turns out, Lottie's true story has been hiding in plain sight- If anybody really cared to know. ******************************************************************************************************** First let me recognize the more important sources for this segment- the authors who changed everything I knew about Lottie Deno... First there was Cynthia Rose, then of Santa Fe, New Mexico, who published her myth-busting account in 1994. Mrs. Rose wrote an endearing study of Mrs. Charlotte Thurmond of Deming, New Mexico, based on the local history, mostly as provided by local informants, and was the first to build on Hunter's cocooned heroine, sans the cocoon. Unfortunately, she fell under the spell of the local charms and charmers and their unfounded assumptions, and misinformation, and did history no favors by providing numerous spurious photographs of Mrs. Thurmond, which could not have been her; pictures of Lottie in her youth, wearing 1890-1910 fashions. Even Marvin Hunter had made the same mistake in his publication about Lottie. Still, Cynthia Rose gets credit for announcing to the world that Lottie Deno never really disappeared... she just moved around some, got married, and made a fresh start. That step of retrograde historical progress was entitled Lottie Deno- Gambling Queen of Hearts. ******************************************************************************************************** Then in 2008 Jan Devereaux published the painful, definitive, excruciatingly authoritative account of the real Carlotta Thompkins Thurmond, alias Lottie Deno, with an introduction provided by no less than the esteemed Robert G. McCubbin, then owner of True West magazine. Her contribution to the Deno legacy wore the title: Pistols, Petticoats & Poker. In her Preface, Devereaux kicks off by admitting that “More has been written and less known about Lottie than any woman traipsing through the Old Southwest's boomtowns.” But what she proved through her book was that there was even more to be written, and much more to be known, now offered by her, and now available to any reader wise enough to brave her scholarly efforts. ************************************************************************************* Devereaux is an old-school academic, who loves detailed footnotes and provides them at the end of every chapter. It's a funny thing about footnotes... it was the very existence of them that drove me towards the brush rather than the pen. I truly had a choice to make as a young man... writer or artist? I opted to be an artist and never regretted that choice. Still, now when I read a book, I find myself reading those damned footnotes. It is often where the good stuff, details too mundane or extraneous for the text, reside. Especially WHERE the author got some cockamamie idea. But Devereaux had very few of those... **************************************************************************************************************** Pistols, Petticoats & Poker, (Henceforth just dubbed PP&P) sets the record straight. It is painful because, as one reads this well-written book, and begins to take on the weight of the material, and the burden of proof well-provided, one feels the simultaneous evaporation of a venerated hero, and the filling of perturbation with so many trusted authors of the past. In other words, prepare for more literary disillusionment in our culture of chronic deception. Devereaux politely goes after the legendary Lottie like a federal prosecutor unchained, released on an elusive repeat offender. She sniffs out many county records, barks up a tree laden with perps, and ravages a century of intentional deceptions- but with the poise and dignity of a Giant Poodle. Her book leaves little more to be said about her subject... And she is so nice about her long overdue corrections that nobody can be mad at her for destroying a popular myth. ********************************************************************************************* But if you are still reading this, you are probably hoping that I will save you the time and expense of PP&P. And I will, but admittedly I must build on Devereaux's sterling conclusions... So as the article in True West used to say... “Let 'er Rip!” *********************************************************************************** True story? Every writer has had to lean heavily on Lottie's version of her unorthodoxed early life... which went something like this: Carlotta Thompkins was born in 1844 in Gallatin County, perhaps near Warsaw, Kentucky. Her father might have farmed tobacco and some hemp, but was also said to be an avid horse breeder and horse-racing enthusiast. Which means he was a gambler. Father Thompkins supposedly taught his daughter the tricks of the card-playing profession, which suggests that he might have used a few himself. “Lottie” grew up fast, attending races and socializing with jockeys, and by the time of the War Between the States, she was more than mature and anxious to ply her talents. She made many claims about her family and especially her father, over the years. Mr. Thompkins was supposedly a wealthy plantation owner, a member of the Kentucky Legislature, an officer in the Confederacy, and supposedly went down with the CSS Alabama. The war took his life and everything the Thompkins had, and Carlotta was forced to get out and support her mother and sister, any way she could. *********************************************************************************************** She supposedly went north to Detroit to work, and then sent money so that her younger sister could go to a Kentucky finishing school. But very little of Lottie's life story could be verified. Devereaux repeatedly reported in PP&P that no documentation could be found for most of Lottie Thompkins (Deno) Thurmond's personal story. No record of any Thompkins as an elected representative, or appreciable activity in horse racing or horse breeding; her younger sister not even remembered in the school where she was supposedly enrolled in. No Lottie was ever mentioned in Detroit, or in New Orleans... or San Antonio... not even in San Angelo. Devereaux, as a strict academic, correctly insists that “a primary resource notation” buttresses acceptance of other notions. But she could not find them until she traced Lottie Deno back to Jacksboro, Texas. And here is where we hook horns. ******************************************************************************* It seems Devereaux doggedly trailed Lottie's alleged travels and found numerous dead-ends in her search for the real Lottie. But my casual search on Newspapers.Com brought new information about a “Lottie Deno” to the surface, but not in Detroit. It seems that Devereaux was right all along, although she took several chapters to hit on the hard truth... that Lottie's tear-jerking memories of a Southern damsel in distress were probably fabricated, and Lottie, for whatever reasons, was a rebel tramp. It was in Chicago where Lottie first made the news... and set a lifelong pattern. ********************************************************************************************* In the August, 1871 edition of The Chicago Tribune, page 3: -Lottie Deno, an inmate of a fashionable Fourth Ave.“hotel,” (journalistic euphemism for brothel) charged upon the colored cook, named Eliza Wedington, that the latter had purloined her jewelry. The theft of about $400.00 worth of clothing and miscellaneous articles seemed to be proved- so well proved in fact that the tawny Wedington was committed for trial in bail of $300.00. ******************************************************************* In January of 1873, a Lottie Deno was named in the same newspaper among many others being summoned to testify against a Captain Louis J. Lull, presumably of the Chicago police. Little can be ascertained from this, but it does establish her possible whereabouts at a certain time in history. ***************************************************************************************** Later, on Saturday, November 15, 1873, Lottie Deno was more thoroughly introduced to the world in the pages of the Inter Ocean of Chicago... The Criminal Court On the 17th of last March, Henry Owen, a sable gentleman, was employed by Lottie Deno, the mistress of a palace of sin, in the capacity of chore boy; and on that day, having no patron saint of his own, he resolved to celebrate the day given to that Celtic personage, St Patrick. In order to obtain the necessary funds he purloined from Miss Lottie's establishment a silver pitcher and salver (a silver tray), and “spouting” the same. Then he went away. Subsequently he returned to the employ of the frail creature (sarcasm) and was her servant at the time. Detective Slayton succeeded in finding the stolen plate, and tracing the theft. He was yesterday given a jury trial, found guilty, and given one year at Joliet. The wages of sin is lard lines. *********************************************************************** Later in February of 1874 in Buffalo, New York, a Lottie Deno was fined $5.00 for assaulting a victim named Minnie Berry. (The Buffalo Commercial) ********************************************************************** Jan Devereaux repeatedly wrote of the absence of any newspaper coverage relating to the famous gambler, Lottie Deno, during this very same period. If Lottie was ever covered by the Press in New Orleans, or San Antonio, two towns which had active newspapers, she could not find it. Supposedly she was traveling through Texas as Carlotta Thompkins, but she is not noticed by that name either. But Chicago knew Lottie well. We can deduce from her Press there that she was a prostitute who worked her way up to the status of madame; that she was a credible witness to Chicago police corruption; that she accumulated a considerable fortune in material wealth, but had trouble with thieving servants; and that sometimes her patience ran out and she resorted to physical attacks. When you read that around $400 worth had been stolen, translate that into about $8,000 in today's currency. *********************************************************************** My version of Lottie is that “Lottie Deno” was a rich Chicago-based madame by the early 1870's. After a violent altercation in Buffalo, (perhaps trying to recruit girls there and being accosted by a competitor) she was searching for a comfortable niche away from strict law-enforcement and had been already feathering her nest in Texas when she showed up in Jacksboro, in full flower. I think it is possible that her later stories about gambling on the Mississippi riverboat and in New Orleans and San Antonio were to obfuscate her career in Chicago and elsewhere. When recounting of her former life to friends in Deming, it was far better to have claimed the life of a gambler, no matter how incredible, than... well, you know. But dogged sleuth Devereaux could find no documentation to place her in any of these places. The author of PP&P also admitted that nobody was going to be able to find a “finitely documented starting point, which there is not...” Unfortunately, this did not stop the author from inserting Hunter's trusty legend where there were no facts to insert. *************************************************************************** I contend that Lottie's “starting point” is firmly, by first-hand and published resources, established in Chicago. But Devereaux joined the rest of the “Western” civilization in taking a stab at Deno's arrival at Ft. Concho- “along about 1870.” She also granted possible “leeway” of a year or more. In fact she found no documentation for Lottie there, and admitted “Faint though her footprints may be at San Angela there is room for a touch of supposition.” A touch? The facts actually suggest that Miss Thompkins, aka Lottie Deno may never have been there, and if she was, her stay was uneventful and very brief. If she was, she may have been scouting for just the right business opportunity, but she made no ripple while passing through. ********************************************************* If Lottie was up north as Newspapers reported, she could not have possibly entered Texas to stay until 1874. Like most other researchers before her, even Devereaux became a bit conditioned to the “biographical haze circling Carlotta Thompkins” as she put it, and desperate to form a story, (and fill a book) and for heavens sake to find a beginning for it, she began to write the life story of Lottie Deno based on the popular hearsay. Still, as PP&P asserts, the most important kind of raw material for writers is that ever elusive resource notation... And the best research done by Devereaux does not actually place Lotta Thompkins in Texas until she paid the taxes as a liquor dealer in Jacksboro, Texas. These payments are said to have been between 1871 and 1874. But they could have been made by a surrogate... or been made by mail, and someonme else was actually the proprieter of the liquor business. ********************************************************************************* I believe that bold, entrepreneurial Lottie, the notorious Chicago madam, had she been in Jacksboro, or San Angelo, or San Antonio, or anyplace with law enforcement and courts, or newspapers, could not have avoided any notice for the years she purportedly operated in Texas as a young, female gambler. And the publicity in Chicago fizzled out as she continued to challenge Victorian laws and paradigms of decency in Jacksboro, Texas. All she needed was a partner... There was a mysterious male consort during her early years and her popular legend of romance and adventure. His name was Johnny Golden, and he supposedly was jockey who had been in love with her, known her in her youth, met up with her in Detroit, and perhaps even married her. ************************************************************************************************ They supposedly parted, and Lottie went south and tore up the tables on the riverboats of the Mississippi, before tackling New Orleans... ************************************************************************************ Here is where I propose that Lottie Deno was only moving towards Texas... but had sent her lover, Johnny Golden, south to Jacksboro, Texas to set up shop, while she bankrolled him. He (or some partner) paid the taxes in her name, as the owner of the business which he was managing, but it was not until late 1874 or 1875 that we know that Lottie had arrived bodily and was operating there. ******************************************************************************************************* That was when Lottie Deno was indicted several times during a short period for running a “Disorderly House,” (brothel) and at least once she even satisfied the $100.00 fine for her crime. She continued her trade in Jacksboro until around 1876. We know all of this, thanks again to Jan Devereaux's thorough footnotes. Legend has it from semi-solid sources that Jacksboro was where Lottie and Doc Holliday first met and dueled at the poker table, and where their friendship, (strictly platonic!) began. But Jack County records are far more informative... ******************************************************************************* Lottie found Texas much more hospitable, and the courts far more malleable. In 1877, after waiving a jury trial, the Jacksboro judge found her not guilty! In spite of his leniency, by then she was moving on to Ft. Griffin, and greener customers. And so did Doc, and unfortunately for him, so did Johnny Golden. ****************************************************************** And it was at this juncture in Jacksboro that Devereaux wrote (finally!): “...unedited pages of primary source documented biography opens.” In other words, from this point on, we are reading history, not supposition. So everything written before in PP&P had been the legend, which Devereaux was craftily weaving with her narrative, amid fantastic, scholarly background development; and assimilation of mountains of hearsay and prevarication. And back to my point, without the knowledge or consideration of an active, notorious, documented prostitute named Lottie Deno in Chicago. ************************************************************** It is possible that there were TWO prostitutes operating in the 1870's under the name “Lottie Deno.” It is also possible that Carlotta Thompkins, who arrived sometime in the 1870's in Jacksboro, read or heard of the more publicized Lottie in Chicago and adopted her name. It's possible. But it seems impossible that she made up the name from whole cloth, or that the legend is correct which claims that her pseudonym Deno was a Texas corruption of the Spanish word for money- dinero. Truth be known, Texans spoke better Spanish than that, and dinero is a popular word there. Almost everybody knows what it means, and most natives know how to pronounce it. A better explanation, and one which makes sense, is that after Lottie began to win at the tables, somebody, perhaps even Lottie, made the barroom pun... substituting Deno with dinero, as a joke.. and it might have stuck in some circles. ***************************************************************************** It is also possible that Lottie Deno of Chicago, wealthy and ambitious, had tired of the restrictions of Victorian civilization and hungered for a more liberal environment, and sent her trusted man-friend to establish a “respectable” business in Texas, where things were thought to be “wide open.” A liquor store would have been perfect as a first step to set up a brothel. Johnny Golden was a mysterious player in Lottie's dark side, a friend since childhood, thought to be her lover, or even married to her; the unacceptable mate which her family could not tolerate, someone she has been written by one author to have been infatuated with if not in love with, but whom she parted ways once they got to Texas... or perhaps sooner... ******************************************************************** The problem is that Lottie lied, lied, lied. So many stories, so many different accounts, and not many of them are compatible. Most are deliberately obfuscating a wild and sordid career in the wilds of Texas- and perhaps all the way back to Chicago. Authors have systematically ignored all of the ugly truth, and the comments by contemporaries which left little doubt that Lottie Deno was something more than a “Queen of Hearts.” Once called a “female monstrosity,” she was someone also quite familiar with literal diamonds, and clubs, and aces. Whether or not Johnny Golden was her henchman in Jacksboro, he showed up again in Ft. Griffin and tried to reconnect. Lottie always tried to make their relationship a relic of the distant past, but her former consort was quite sure of himself. Perhaps Golden was a former pimp who wanted to renew their old arrangement. She wasn't having it. ******************************************************************************************************* Lottie Deno had reinvented herself in Ft. Griffin as primarily a Southern lady gambler, and was doing well. In the West nobody asked you where you came from, or what you had done... or what you might be wanted by the Law for. Although she still probably trafficked in flesh (as a public service!), Lottie now chose her lovers... a move towards sexual discretion. She had regained a measure of self-respect. She told the sheriff that a man had come who wanted to drag her back into her old life, and she did not want to go there. It was just a matter of hours before Golden was dead, after an “attempted arrest” by sheriff's deputies. He had supposedly tried to escape. It did not matter in Ft. Griffin what he was accused of, for he had upset Ft. Griffin's popular and well-connected madam. ************************************************************************************************** Lottie must have had trouble with the way the Ft. Griffin sheriff handled the affair, and stayed in seclusion for days... and then left town without saying good-bye. They found a note on her bed leaving her belongings to the poor. *************************************************************************************** The juxtaposition of Golden's death and Lottie's legendary “disappearance” have never really been a matter of concern. But I believe that Golden was much more to Lottie than a mere nuisance from her dark past. The prejudice with which he was treated suggests that something more was threatened than Lottie's reputation. She had spilled her stained soul to the sheriff, assuming her favorite role of a vulnerable Southern belle. But she must have owed Golden something, or he would never had enough leverage to try to horn in on her operations at Ft. Griffin... which definitely still included subtle, “high end” prostitution. He might have just threatened to inform the town of her various exploits, which could have jeopardized her status above the common girls. But she also might have owed him money... if they were partners back in Jacksboro, and she could not escape him again. She said whatever it took to get rid of him... starting with his arrest. She may have intended to flee all along, while he was incarcerated. The deputies merely solved the problem, Hidetown style. ********************************************************************************************************* Lottie was free of Golden, but not through with gambling, or prostitution... not yet. This suggests her obligation to Golden was financial. And her kind of partnership and possible debt to him was nothing she could solve in the courts. His kind of leverage could only be answered with the same kind of deadly force which was certain to be applied, if indeed he was a pimp. This kind of relationship was all too common. Doc Holliday, Wyatt Earp, and many lesser known "entrpreneurs" had similar arrangelents with their women. ************************************************************************************************ Typically, the women were used up, then left to medicate and often kill themselves with laudenum. Although Lottie was not yet reformed, she must have observed this pattern of destruction. So rather than go straight, she was just shedding her former business plan for one which gave her autonomy, and perhaps a brighter future. But like a lot of social rebels, she stepped out of this Texas frying pan right into the New Mexico fire... *******************************************************************************************

Devereaux followed and documented Lottie's sordid affairs and dealings from Ft. Griffin to Ft. Clark in Brackettville, and then to Silver City, New Mexico. When times got tough, Lottie got tougher. She went from one Western boomtown hellhole to the next, as if she could not get enough sin or self-destructing behavior. *****************************************************************************************************

Silver City was the playground of such sociopathic criminals as young William Bonney, Dave Rudabaugh, and a slew of lesser-known killers and rustlers, not to mention Big Nose Kate Horony and her sporadic consort, Doc Holliday; a perfect place for an inveterate prostitute and gambler. It was the kind of infamous place, that if you wanted a bad reputation, you wanted to start it there. Later the Dalton gang would come down from Oklahoma just to rob a saloon there so as to announce their debut as lawmen cum desperados. Those who only knew Carlotta Thurmond in Deming would never have believed what juicy scandals might have been easily stirred concerning her over in Silver City... and how sweet, church-going Carlotta had made a truly remarkable transformation from her former life. ***********************************************************************

Silver City was where we know for sure that Carlotta met up with another old flame- Frank Thurmond. Frank was real-life Cherokee version of the lovable Crocodile Dundee. He had been known to kill men in hand-to-hand combat, with his huge Bowie knife. Frank was dark and handsome and dangerous. And he would do anything for Lottie, who had decided to start in the saloon business in Silver City. They entered into a partnership and a marriage which vaulted many a hurdle and eventually total life changes- over several decades. ********************************************************************************* “The search for an authentic early photograph of Lottie Deno goes on...” Jan Devereaux **********************************************************************

Well, maybe. I had been researching/writing this segment about the Thurmonds for months while actively thinking about them and their secrets and Lottie's unknown reformation, when I ran upon this bent-up old tintype on eBay- a RARE tintype regardless, of a saloon staff, making a toast. If it is not Lottie and possibly Kate Horony, around a Silver City saloon table, with a man who appears to be a young bartender, celebrating something and making a toast with wine... then well, it sure could be. And this picture of Lottie (in the center) is more HER than many which have been published over the past seventy years. And unlike the rest, it has not been proven to be otherwise!

Shortly afterwards, this opaltype was offered up by a dealer in Las Cruces, New Mexico... and it reminded me so much of my idea of Lottie Thurmond, especially in mid-life, that I had to buy it so I could share it with you as well...

Lottie was not that pretty. I'm not sure how red her hair was. I don't think that she was THAT great of a gambler. She probably was from Kentucky- why lie about that kind of thing? But she was probably not from that great of a home life... certainly not what she told everyone. She was a whore who did what she did. Her reasons were her own and nobody is obligated to explain their choices to anyone else. But the remarkable thing about Lottie Deno, aka Carlotta Thurmond, was that she found a way to turn it all around, after a lifetime of lawlessness and gambling and selling herself to people she could not, and probably would not want to know- while giving the bird to society and all of its judgment and condemnation. Then one day saying to herself, “I can do better. And with God's help, I will do better.” And then doing it. ******************************************************************* The story goes that a preacher came one day to Deming and spoke at a revival and somehow awoke Carlotta's inner spirit; her long dormant self-respect- and hope for a better future. And she answered the invitiation... and walked down the tent revival isle to a life of promise... of rebirth and salvation and purpose and forgiveness and even some standing in the community. And when she told Frank about her choice... he went and made it his as well. In fact a bunch of people did, and it went down as a great day in Deming, New Mexico. And that was the story worth telling... One of courage and resolve and victory. And redemption. *****************************************************************************************

A western novelist, commissioned by William Randolph Hearst, found and interviewed the Thurmonds, and fashioned a whole series of novels with them as the main characters... with their names changed of course... The illustration above was an artist's concept of Frank Thurmond. Yes he was a bad ass... But also the tender old man below...

But the writer did what almost all writers have done with them since... Above is Rhonda Fleming portraying the screenwriter's glamorous version of her... They romanticized and glorified the violence and mischief and missed the most important part, the best part of her story... really the whole story- of redemption and transformation, a long-held secret committed to the unglorified past, but no doubt celebrated by angels... down in Deming, New Mexico; the untold legacy of a soiled dove who took flight towards a refuge of acceptance and belonging which she had never known before, and became a cherished and respected person in her community- as she left her past and her mythic name to the legend mill of the Old West. Few other persons could be written about with such extreme changes in one life... and even fewer who went from bad to good. And probably none who so effectively kept the worst parts of it a well-protected secret for a century!