Springfield Bawdy Houses

In my book Wicked Springfield (MO), I discussed various vices in the city, including prostitution, but the book only covered up through the 1910s. It left off about the time Prohibition took effect, because the new law caused a noticeable drop off in vice in general, not just in alcohol-related offenses.

The lifting of Prohibition in the early 1930s, however, ushered in a new era, and vice, especially prostitution, once again flourished in Springfield. I probably shouldn't use the word "flourish," because Springfield has never been exactly a hotbed of crime, certainly not in the nineteenth century or first half of the twentieth century. But prostitution did revive somewhat in the post-Prohibition era. 

In January of 1942, for instance a husband wife were charged with keeping a bawdy house at the hotel they ran at 427 1/2 S. Campbell. Another couple was charged with a similar offense in conjunction with a hotel they ran at 406 1/2 W. Walnut. Yet another couple were charged with keeping a bawdy house at their hotel at 407 1/2 S. Campbell, and a fourth woman was charged with running a bawdy house out of her hotel at 404 1/2 W. Walnut. 

All of these hotels were in the same immediate vicinity (on or near Campbell Street from two or three blocks south of College to two or three blocks north of College). This was only a few blocks from the railroad depot on North Main, and most of the hotel customers probably were travelers arriving at the depot who wanted a place to stay (and be entertained at the same time). At least this was the case during the aughts and teens, decades I researched and wrote about in Wicked Springfield. 

In early February 1942, yet another couple were charged with running a bawdy house at their hotel at 423 1/2 S. Campbell. About the same time a man named Johnson was convicted of receiving part of the funds from two prostitutes who operated out of his rooming house at 214 1/2 S. Campbell. He was sentenced to ten years in prison, later reduced to five years.

The stiff sentence didn't put much of a damper on prostitution in Springfield, because it continued pretty much unabated over the next couple of years. Mrs. Johnson, for one, took up right where her husband had left off.

Finally, in mid-1944 Springfield police chief Warren Hayes decided to claim down on "the oldest profession." He proposed raising the maximum fine for violating certain ordinances, including keeping a bawdy house, to $500. The proposed law would levy a fine varying from $100 to $500 on anyone "keeping a bawdy house, displaying a sign of honest occupation as a screen for a bawdy house, renting a room to a man and woman knowing they are not man and wife, keeping or permitting a female under 18 to remain in an establishment which is used as a bawdy house."

The penalty for prostitutes loitering in a public place was to be raised to a minimum of $5 and a maximum of $300. Soliciting could cost them from $25 to $300. 

Apparently, the new laws and a determined effort by the police chief did have some effect in curbing prostitution in Springfield, if the number of times terms like "bawdy house" appeared in Springfield newspapers over the next few years is any indication. Or maybe it just went farther underground.

Christmas Revelry

Nowadays we usually think of New Year's Eve as the primary hell-raising holiday of the year. Some of the summer holidays, such as the 4th of July and Labor Day, are also occasions for drinking and carousing for some people. 

However, most people, or at least most people I know, do not think of Christmas as a special time for partying, except maybe the office parties that some businesses hold a few days before the holiday. December 25 itself tends to be more of a solemn occasion, at least for Christians. It is also a joyous occasion, especially for kids, but it's not what most of us think of as a raucous, hell-raising occasion.

Apparently, that has not always been the case in America. In doing historical research, I've run across numerous mentions of men celebrating Christmas by getting drunk and raising hell. 

For instance, in late December of 1901 the Springfield Leader-Democrat lamented the revelry that had taken place in the city on Christmas Day. "Some persons," said the newspaper, "always insist on making Christmas an occasion of riot and debauchery, and they frequently come out of their holiday excesses badly worsted. The city calaboose had its Christmas aftermath last night and this morning Judge Mason inspected a penitent crowd of prisoners who waited for the admonition of the law. There were red eyes, gashed cheeks, muddy hats, tousled locks of dirty hair and other signs of the gross revelry of yesterday." 

The reporter cited several cases in particular.

S. A. Rowden, a Civil War veteran who lived east of town, had come to Springfield in a buggy, bought a bottle of whiskey, and got drunk. He was headed toward his buggy to head back home when he was arrested and put in the pokey. He told the judge the next day that he'd paid two recent fines for drunkenness, not realizing the judge's policy of being lenient on that count toward veterans. So, he thought the judge should let him off without a fine and that one night in jail was sufficient punishment. The judge apparently agreed, remarking that he noticed that Rowden had kept his drunken sprees to only about one every six months. He admonished Rowden not to take more than one or two big sprees between then and the next Christmas and sent him on his way.

Meanwhile, Buck Blades, "a young man well known about Billings and Republic," slept off his jag in the calaboose and paid a fine of one dollar the next day.

Ross Hall and George Williams were arrested for a cutting affray on South Street on Christmas afternoon. "The two young men swung their knives recklessly, and two or three persons were slightly cut." Hall and Williams were scheduled for trial in police court on the afternoon of 26th or 27th (exact date not clear). 

 

An Affray at Potter's Saloon

In my book Wicked Springfield (MO), I briefly mentioned a shooting incident that occurred at William Potter's saloon, located just off the square on Boonville, on the evening of August 6, 1880, but today I thought I'd go into a little more detail about the episode.

The 41-year-old Potter had both his residence and his saloon at 221 Boonville. About 10:30 p.m. on Friday the 6th, eight black men came into the saloon and ordered beer. After they'd drunk the beer, they called for a free lunch, which Potter was accustomed to providing for his regular customers. 

Since these men were not regular customers (and probably also because they were black), Potter refused to provide the requested meal, and a fracas broke out. 

Who began the hostilities is not exactly clear, but Potter threw several beer glasses at his unwelcome guests during the melee, and the black men, in return, fired several shots, one of which struck Potter in the hip. The wound was considered serious but not dangerous to the point of being life threatening. 

Several people took part in the shooting, including one white man, it was reported, but the exact identities of the shooters remained unclear several days later. 

All of the black men who'd entered Potter's saloon together were arrested, although three were almost immediately released. The other five were soon released on bail as well and were scheduled for hearings on August 13. The names of those charged were Isaac Sims, Sam Vaughn, Henry Harrington, R. Johnson, and Albert Campbell. The outcome of their hearings is unknown, but apparently no serious charges were brought. 

Mayhem in Shannon County

On February 14, 1929, two lumbermen, H. L. Rendleman and Henry Jackson (name sometimes given as Johnson), got into a dispute at the Egyptian Tie and Lumber Company 17 miles east of Eminence near Owl's Bend, where they both worked. Jackson ended up hacking Rendleman with a timber axe, almost completely cutting off the victim's arm. Rendleman was taken to Christa Hogan Hospital in West Plains in a dangerous condition. The bone was completely severed, and the arm was barely still attached. It was thought the arm might have to be amputated.

Jackson was charged with mayhem and released on bond. 

Three weeks later, though, Rendleman was released from the hospital and on his way to recovery. Surgeons at the hospital had set the bone and reattached the severed parts of the arm, and it was "healing nicely." 

Jackson was scheduled for trial at the May 1930 term of Shannon County Circuit Court, but I can find no follow-up mention of this case. Apparently, the charge of mayhem must have been dropped or the charge got pleaded down to a misdemeanor after Rendleman recovered, because the legal definition of "mayhem" usually involves severing someone's limb or causing the person to lose complete use of the limb. That was no longer the case with Rendleman.