More than eight million visitors came to the Pan-American Exposition in 1901. There was a lot of money to be made in entertainment and hospitality – much of it under the table, or under the covers. A reporter from the Atlantic Monthly gawked at the “nocturnal architecture, nocturnal landscapes, nocturnal gardens and long vistas of nocturnal beauty.” He was referring, of course, to the electric lighting. But there were other vistas of nocturnal beauty that did just fine by oil-lamp, or in the dark.
The town was already famous for its Buffalo Gals, who came out at night and danced by the light of the moon. There’s also a local legend that a garrison of New York City call-girls and Can-can dancers arrived by train, planning to insinuate themselves into the territory. But word got out ahead of them, and they arrived to find a wall of sturdy Buffalo Gals with bricks, bats, and bottles, ready to defend their turf. Parisols don’t do much under a heavy rain of cobblestones. The battle raged in the street for eight hours, and the horse-drawn paddy wagon took 32 trips to the jail, to quiet the riot. Then the escorts were police-escorted back to the Big Apple, by packet boat or train. Canal Street catfights were not uncommon:
“Bottles and all sorts of projectiles fly promiscuously about, warlike viragoes embrace each other and make loving attempts to bite each other’s noses and ears off. The combatants are, of course, generous in the matter of profanity. A crowd of loungers gather around the door, the residents of neighboring mansions come hurrying to the scene, everybody laughs and cheers, and for a few moments Bedlam reigns until the police swoop down and separate the disturbers of the public peace and carry them all off to the watch-houses.” (Buffalo Morning Express, Aug 29, 1874)
That, unfortunately, was not a report of this particular brawl, but provides an eyewitness glimpse at how these throw-downs tended to go down (the local champs had plenty of training when the time came to defend their belts against out-of-town challengers). This Battle of the Buffalo Gals did not appear in any police or newspaper report from the time. But as archaeologists say, “absence of evidence is not evidence of absence.” There is no way of writing the story that wouldn’t betray a twinkle of local pride. And the fighting prowess of feminine prowlers isn’t something a city should put in the ledger.
Newspaper reports of sex-work during the Pan-American tend to be fairly formulaic. The word “prositution” is almost never used (in all of 1901, the Buffalo News never used the P-word unless it was quoting a speech). Apparently gentle readers were more comfortable with the V-word, “vagrancy.” Here is a pretty standard example:
VISITOR IS WISER… Michael Kucza, 35 years old, who lives in a town near Clevelend, O., came to Buffalo several days ago to visit the Pan-American Exposition. Michael now wishes he had remained at home, or at least had not made the acquaintance of an artificial blonde Friday. If he had not he would be $43 richer in pocket than he is today. He gave the police a description of the woman. Last night Detectives Hearn and Maloney arrested Minnie Starr…the charge of vagrancy being entered against her. (Buffalo News, July 28, 1901)
Apparently Kucza’s newfound wisdom included having somehow found out that Minnie was not a natural blonde. Released on bail, Minnie Starr was picked up again a month later: “Klein said he went into the Hotel Grill on West Eagle street with a young woman for a late supper and that she picked his pocket for $15… Minnie Starr claims to be an actress.” (Buffalo News Aug 27, 1901). She also claimed to be named “Minnie Starr,” which sounds like the kind of professional name a certain kind of “actress” might take on.
Not all out-of-towners were customers:
“Jessie Taft, 24 years old…arrived here a week ago, and as she did not have any visible means of support, Patrolman Flesh arrested her on the charge of vagrancy. When arraigned before Judge Van Natter she pleaded not guilty, begged to be given her freedom, and said if she were released she would leave Buffalo. The Justice took her at her word and discharged her. Patrolman Flesh met her on the street again yesterday and rearrested her. This morning she was committed. The woman was gorgeously dressed in silks and laces and wore a dozen diamonds.” (May 13, 1901)
Jessie’s meteoric rise from rags to riches is very impressive – she must have been really good at at vagrancy. And yes, the vice cop who specialized in cuffing call-girls was named “Patrolman Flesh.”
Most sex-work involves men paying upfront for sex, but obviously there many possible angles and positions in this unregulated industry. One case from 1901 sounds nothing like any textbook definition of prostitution – in fact, it sounds more like something one might find in an elementary math textbook: “Joseph Stucke and John Buza had a quarrel a few days ago over the attention Stucke was paying to Mrs. Buza. Stucke was fined $25 for his part in the affair. It seems that Mrs. Buza was informed by Stanislaus Stein…that the fine was $45. She raised $40 and gave it to Stein, the latter saying he would pay the balance. Later Stein paid the $25 fine.” (Buffalo News, Jan 18, 1901) What did Stein get from this transaction? The answer is 30: thirty days in the penitentiary, after Mrs. Buza reported him for petit larceny. The court found that she had paid $40 for only $25 worth of sex, with Stein trying to take a $15 cut after the fact, for acting as Joseph Stucke’s pimp.
1901 was shaping up to be a rousing and arousing year in Buffalo history.
Next: More blush-worthy true stories of romance-for-rent during the Exposition.