    Title: Biography of a Storyville Madame
    Author:Eskimo1958
    Summary: A reporter interviews a lady that is over a hundred years old. She was a former
    Madame in the historic Storyville district of New Orleans before she married a politician.
    She tells part of her story in this inerview.
    Keywords: prost

This is the story of a lady we'll call Amanda, or Miss Amanda, out of respect. She is one hundred and five years old, and living in a nursing home in southern Mississippi. She is the widow of a man that was one of the most influential men in politics in the state of Mississippi. But this story is of her early years, when she ran from a home of abuse, and seek shelter in New Orleans, in particular the Storyville district.

I first heard of Miss Amanda through a friend, who worked at the nursing home. Miss Amanda had been widowed for going on forty years, her husband passing on in the late fifties. She her self was born in Decatur, Alabama in September, 1894. But her childhood was marked with tragedy. She was the last of seven children, the youngest by ten years, and her birth killed her mother. Her father never recovered from his grief, killing himself when she was five.

For the next ten years, she bounced around the family, before being taken in by her oldest sister and her husband, a respectable ordained Baptist minister. But not all was as good as it seemed. When she was sixteen, the good reverend started making advances towards her, with her sister, now with her third child, turning her eye away. This went on for a year, before there as a confrontation, and he was found out.

But times were different back then, The victim being the accused in cases like this. After all, a respectable member of the community wouldn't do such a thing. So, to escape the talk, she ran off, at the age of seventeen and eight months. In six months, she was in New Orleans, having finally reached the Big Easy. Her size made her look even younger, as she roamed the streets of the big, bustling port city. At barley four-foot six inches, and not weighing seventy pounds, she was even tiny for back then.

So now, after a bit of background, here is my interview with Miss Amanda.

I: Is for me, the interviewer, A: Is for Miss Amanda

I: Good morning Miss Amanda, and how are you today?" (She looked up, the age showing on her face. Her eyes darted around, then she looked at me funny before speaking."

A: I am fine, who are you?"

I: I'm Robert Jones, Miss Amanda, I've come to interview you. (A look of surprise.)

A: Me? What on earth for?"

I: Well ma'm, because you're one hundred and five, you've lived an interesting life. (She looked at me warily)

A: Go on.

I: ( I cleared my throat) Miss Amanda, I've come to talk about your early life, your childhood and such. (She tilted her head back, and looked at me, then sternly said)

A: You mean my life before Mr. _______ ? When I was a working girl. (No beating around the bush, huh?)

I: Well yes, I do want to hear your story. About how you came to work in New Orleans, the life you led, and how you escaped from it.

A: Escape? There was no escaping, boy. (She looked around a bit, noticing the room was empty, then leaned forward) There was never escaping it, or you wouldn’t be here now asking. ( A pause.) How much you going to make on this, sonny?"( She had a wry smile on her face, when she asked this, and I had to chuckle. I leaned forward as well, to give my answer.)

I: As much as I can get, Miss Amanda, as much as I can get! (She cackled for a bit, then settled down. She looked down at her hands, as she spoke, loud enough for me to hear, but not loud enough for anyone that may pass in the hall)

A: It was long ago, very long ago. (She leaned back in her chair, raising her head, looking at me, but not really paying attention to me.) Well, if it's a story you want, lets make it a damn good one! I was born in a small house in Decatur, Alabama. Back in eighteen-ninety four. My daddy was a coalminer, momma kept house. But my birth took it's toll on my mother, she passing away within weeks after my birth from what I was told. And daddy, he was mourning her passing to the day he died, which was when I just turned five. Most say it was suicide, but I like to believe it was from a broken heart.

I barely remember my daddy. Remember his funeral, though. It was hot, late august of ninety-nine. Remember them lowering his body into the grave.(She fell silent for a minute) The smell of death, you never forget it, do you? (She didn't wait for an answer) Anyway, I really don't remember much after that, I lived with a few different aunts for awhile, then an older sister, Rachel. She got married when I was twelve , married to that damn minister. Rachel took me in right after her marriage, and the so-called good minister treated me good at first.

In the late summer after I turned sixteen, Rachel was carrying her fourth child in as many years. That’s when the Reverend started to notice me a bit more. At first, it was words of kindness, then a few months later, he started to touch me. Nothing much, just pats on the back, or the top of my head. When Rachel had her child, a boy, she became bedridden for four months. So I did everything for her, including taken care of the older children.

It was in her second month of being in bed, that he started getting aggressive. I remember it well. I was putting little Jonathon to bed, when he came up behind me, and fondled my rear, saying "Your rear is just as good as Rachel's." I turned and glared at him, I sensed this was coming, but I was young, and I didn't know how to handle it. I told him not to touch me, and he backed off. For a while anyway.

Within a few weeks, he was making comments about my body, how I was growing up and looking like a real woman. Rachel sensed a problem, but she could do nothing. Back then, you couldn't really chastise your husband, especially when he was a man of the cloth. Anyway, he kept grabbing me for months, and I always fought him off. And I would always make sure a child was sleeping with me, that way he would leave me alone at night.

Finally, not long after I turned seventeen, it happened. He cornered me in the stable, I had gone out to hitch up a horse to take me to market when he caught me. He grabbed me from behind, and started kissing my neck. He was so much bigger than I, as his hands grabbed what little breasts I had, pawing them roughly. I was struggling to get free, when he reached down and tried lifting up my skirt. That’s when I screamed, as my hand found a horse brush, and I clocked him with it, sending him reeling back against the wall. I ran out screaming, and some neighbors saw me running out.

Of course, he came right out after me, a hand to his head, where I had opened a gash, and bleeding all over himself. He was madder than a nest of hornets, but when he saw the neighbor, he stopped. The man, Mr. Cole, he saw him, and he got between me and the Reverend. No words were spoken, there wasn't need of any. Mrs. Cole came running out and took me inside their home. They weren't the same faith as the Reverend, they were Methodist, so no love lost towards him. Mrs. Cole got two other men to go to Rachel's home and fetch my things. So I stayed with them for a short while.

Anyway, eventually the Reverend came up with a story of me being a flirt, and leading him into temptation. And the people believed him! Except for Rachel, dear Rachel. (She sighed, and sat for a while, before continuing) But it didn't matter, the damage was done. People didn't know the truth, or didn't want to know it, as they looked at me in a bad light after that. It got so bad, all the talking behind my back, I couldn't even get any suitors. So, facing the inevitable, Mrs. Cole helped me pack my meager belongings, and I left town. ( I interrupted her, and asked a question)

I: And what became of Rachel?

A:(She sighed, and looked away for a moment, before answering.) This all broke Rachel's heart. She died, not long after I left northern Alabama. ( She turned her head, and looked at me, a tear in her eye.) I never even knew she was gone, not until years later, after I married Mr. _______.

I: So you went to New Orleans?

A: Not right away. First, I went to Mobile. Stayed with a cousin and his wife. But, well, it just wasn't working out. No jobs and all. So, they suggested New Orleans. Maybe I could get a job as a nanny. Now, back then, I was young, but no longer naive. The good Reverend made sure of that. He stole my innocence! (She was waving her fist, a bit mad still, after all these years.)

So, I went to New Orleans. Times were tough, no jobs for maids or nannies, especially one so inexperienced. I still had money, thanks in part to my siblings, who gave me my share of inheritance. But, I was hunting for a way to support myself.

I: And then you became a working girl?

A: (She looked at me sternly.) Good heavens no, at least not yet. (She sat back in her chair) It was so long ago, before I met my husband. (She smiled, and looked at me.) Now, there was a fine man, although he had his problems. But, most men do, as they are not always on the straight and narrow. Politics does that to a man. Why, what they did back then made what today’s politicians do look like child’s play.

I: Oh really? And how so?"

A: (She cackled) Oh, the stories I could tell about the dead. Lets just say I wasn't the only one with skeletons in my closet. As a matter of fact, I was more up front about it. Why, I never denied what I once was, (A sly smiled came to her face) But with Mr. ______ influence, no one dared bring it up, either. Things were different back then, we could have fun and not worry about some rag newspaper making it page one. Why, I remember the election of 1936, we had a full blown orgy after it! (She looked at me, and laughed) Close your mouth son, you're letting in flies. (She laughed some more) The things I witnessed, (She shook her head, while smiling.) not to mention the things I was privy too. You could write a ton of letters to those girlie magazines about them and have them published.

I: Are you saying that the politicians had affairs?

A: (laughing) Even my own husband! While he was in Washington, some little tramp sent me a letter, telling me he was going to divorce me and run off with him. Well, I put the kibosh on that one.

I: How?

A: (another sly smile) Just never you mind. In the long run, I hired a 'professional girl to be Mr. _____ private secretary. She was to do more than take dictation.(Laughter). This was of course after I read him the riot act. Our oldest daughter had just gotten married, so I didn't want any problems on the home front. (She looked at me, smiling) Don't be so shocked, it happed all the time, even the ones that preferred other men. But then, that's enough on politics, lets get back to New Orleans. In the late summer of nineteen-twelve, I arrived in New Orleans. It was hot and muggy, typical Bayou weather. I got me a room at Mrs. Anderson's boarding house, on Bourbon Street. Not much, a small bedroom, overlooked a rear courtyard. Mrs. Anderson took me in, as I had money. But I found she had ulterior motives later.

I: She was the one that forced you into prostitution? (She answered me sternly)

A: No one ever forced me into doing anything! Anyway, I lived there for awhile, almost three months, it was getting to the Holiday season, when she started dropping hints about me getting work. I had yet to find anything, and although wasn't desperate, was longing for something.

One day, she suggested I go into Storyville, and visit a certain establishment, as they could use a housekeeper. Well, I knew what Storyville was all about. It was the district where they kept the working girls. I wasn't about to become one, at least I wasn't planning on it.

So, with her encouragement, I went with her to visit a lady about a job. I later found that was how the lady I was to meet recruited new girls. Through women like Mrs. Anderson.

I: What was her name?

A: Does it matter? (she didn't wait for my reply) No, it doesn't. Let's say her name is Kitty. Kitty talked to me for awhile, what she needed in a new employee and all. Of course, the whole time, she was looking up and down my body, from head to toe. To make a long story short, I got the job, cleaning the place up and all, for one dollar a week, plus room and board.

I: Kitty gave you lodging?

A: Most definitely. A room in the attic. Well, attic sounds harsh. Really it was the top floor, there were six rooms for the girls, I shared it with two others.

I: They cleaned as well?

A:(laughing) Good heavens, No! They were working girls. It was Sarah and Mary. Sarah was part colored, while Mary was an Irish girl. Both were a few years older than I, and lot bigger to boot.

I: So you got to know them well.

A: (She looked at her hands, and sighed) "Yes, I did. (A tear formed, and I offered a hanky, which she took.) Sarah, she was killed years later. After the end of Storyville. She was working the streets still. Some drunk slit her throat, said she was charging way too much. We, the Senator and I, had tried getting her off the streets, but it was no use.

I: And Mary? The Irish girl?

A: After the Senator and I got hitched, I saw Mary on a visit to the city. I had the Senator give her a job. By then I was pregnant with my second, and a one year-old crawling around my feet, so my husband hired her as a nanny for our children. (She smiled, and shook her head, then looked down at her hands.) Mary, she was always there for me, when the Senator was away, she was a good comfort to have around.

I: For moral support?

A: (She grinned broadly, that sly smile on her ancient face) It wasn't always moral. On a trip to Washington, I had my fourth child by then, Junior would have been about, oh let me think, (She put her hand to her head, and lowered it, smiling) He would have been about four. We were in Washington for an inauguration. A congressman from Indiana was smitten by her, and eventually asked for her hand in marriage. (A sad smile, as she looked to be reflecting on the memories.) He was one of those damn Republican KKK nuts from that state. Common for that time, mind you. But, with Mary's perseverance, she survived him. He died during the war, and she never did remarry. No children, either.

I: I take it you're not going to use their full names.

A: (She snorted loudly) No, not even their real first names, sonny. I've respect for the dead. Especially since I'll probably be joining them soon.

I: Did you start as a working girl for Kitty then?"

A: (she sighed deeply, and leaned back in her chair.) I was there maybe four months. It could have been shorter, maybe longer. I was a small lady, even smaller than most of the women back then. Not much over four foot six inches in height, and not even weighing eighty pounds. I looked like a little girl. That's how I became involved as a working girl.

I: How so?

A: A gentleman wanted me. He saw me cleaning the front room, and commented to Kitty that he would give her fifty dollars for the night to have his way with me. Well, Miss Kitty approached me about it, and told me about his request. I denied it at first, saying I wasn't going down that road. But, I knew I was. A week alter, he came back, offering a hundred dollars. A hundred dollars! This was in nineteen-fourteen! Miss Kitty was livid when I said no.

Then, he returned, offering five hundred dollars. When Miss Kitty told me of his latest offer, I smiled, and asked "You think we could get more?' She was stunned at first, then she smiled at me, saying 'You're going to go far in this business, young lady.' She didn't think he would, so I agreed to it, with the stipulation that I get half the money. I was surprised when she agreed to this, as the other girlsonly got maybe twenty percent of their tricks. So, a time was set up, and he came to Miss Kitty's boarding house, and I lost my virginity and what was left of my innocence. Of course, he thought I was a lot younger. I had always been rather flat cheated, no breasts to speak of, and since I was so small, he got a kick out of thinking he was having sex with a child. Thankfully, he didn't last long. Maybe a few minutes. He did pay for the night though. And that night, I learned how to please a man with my body.

After that, Miss Kitty and I got to talking. It seems he mentioned to both of us that if Miss Kitty finds more young girls, he could supply more men to pay for such a service. Well, her and I both agreed, that it would be a lot easier using one girl all the time, than it would be to find replacements. So, that's how it began. We would change my hair color, or my hair style, and I was offered as a young female virgin for over two years. Of course, with the amount we charged, only the very rich could afford me. And, as time went along, we even had Sarah and Mary get involved. Sort of like handlers. The men getting an extra girl to go along with the price.

I: Sounds like you were constantly changing marketing strategy's.

A: (Laughing hard now) Yes, we did. Anyway, Miss Kitty left only after a month or so. That left me and the other three.

I: I'm just curious, Miss Amanda. How did you pass as a virgin each time?"

A: (A sly smile came to her face.) We used pigs blood. A slaughterhouse was not far away. Whenever I had an appointment, we would obtain some, and either Sarah or Mary would get it up inside of me. (Another cackle) Men, they're so damn gullible.

I: This went on for two years?

A: A little longer. Until I finally got pregnant. And then I was the much sought after pregnant child. We charged fifty dollars a night for those men to take me. My baby was born dead though. I was a bit saddened at that. And I started looking closer at my life. I realized that I had become a whore. A high priced one, yes. But also one with a lot of connections to politicians. We, as in Mary and me, had twelve working girls. Some were quite young, and we were passing them off as virgins and such. Doing the same thing I had been doing.

It wasn't long after I lost my child that I met the Senator. For some reason, he found an interest in me. The war in Europe had already begun. The army was coming, and they wanted to close Storyville. (She shook her head in anger) That was the worse thing they could have done. Back then, us Madame’s had thing’s under control. After that, it was chaos. Thankfully, Mr. ____________ got me out of there. I was surprised at first, when he asked for me to go on a trip with him. He was in the state legislature at the time in his home state of Mississippi. I had a great time with him that week. And he paid me well, I might add. Then, another trip a few weeks later. I knew by the time that I returned to New Orleans after that one, that he was in love with me. Of course, I figured he would eventually dump me, with pressure from his family. He wasn't married, but I was sure his folks had a much finer bred woman than myself picked out for him.

Then, he came to me, telling me about the Army's plan to close Storyville. And offering me a chance to get out. I was skeptical of course. Maybe pessimistic would be a better term. Yes, I had heard the rumors that we would be run out. Heck, we all heard them. But, what were we to do about it? As it turned out, we did nothing.

I: And Mr. ______'s family? How did they react when they found out?"

A: (Laughter) How you expect they reacted, sonny? They were livid. My husband was point blank in telling them what I was. He was around thirty-three at the time, more than a good ten years my senior. His momma was fit to be tied when he brought me home to their mansion, and introduced me as his future wife, a Madame from New Orleans. (A soft smile) But his father, he just smiled. He had a twinkle in his eye. No, not for thinking of having his way with me. But for knowing that I would be the best thing for his son. And, I proved him right. Three years after our marriage, he was a congressman. Four terms and he was a US Senator until his death.

I: And the reaction of his constituents?"

A: (She shrugged her shoulders) It seems most didn't care. We wren in a poor farming area when he was a legislator. I’m was not from a well to do family. I think that helped. And he got money into our district. Then as congressman, he helped even more, especially after the crash of twenty-nine. He worked with FDR in getting WPA projects not only in our district, but all over the state and nation. That was back before these greedy bastards took over, son. Back when a politician was for the people. The people didn’t care what politicians did behind closed doors, nor about who they were married too. For they were working class people. And, things were more accepted back then before World War II. Then, we all started to get filled up with all sorts of morality. Thanks in part to the press and to those right wing nuts.

I: (I wanted to hear more about Storyville, so I changed the subject) The girls in your boarding house, the other ones besides Sarah and Mary, what became of them?"

A: Who knows? I left Mary in charge after I ran off with my husband to be. She kept in touch, but we never really did talk about things. And once Storyville closed down, most of the girls were working the streets, where it wasn't as safe.

I: Then I understand you're saying that closing a red-light district such as Storyville was a tragedy?

A: Tragedy? Life's a tragedy, sonny. Living to over a hundred years old is a tragedy. As well as dying in the gutter at nineteen. (She exhaled hard, leaned her head back, and closed her eyes.) I'm tired, son. Come back tomorrow, and I'll tell you how I ran the best high class brothel in the whole south.

I: (I chuckled when I heard those words, and as I stood to leave, I was looking forward to it.) Thank you Miss Amanda. I'll see you tomorrow then.

A: (As I walked to the door, she spoke softly) Good bye Robert Jones.

I went to my office that afternoon and typed up the interview, looking forward to tomorrow that would never come for her. I arrived at the nursing home early the next day, and asked to see Miss Amada. I was disheartened to hear she had passed on just hours after I had left the day before. Now, not only was my story incomplete, but inside so was I.

To see a list of all my stories, go to my story page.

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