Authentically the West
Authentic museums seem to be a thing of the west; the preservation of the past just the way it was as the town, business, or building met its demise with the coming of progress is not something we see back east where museum spaces are modern with an attempt given to contextualize the past within the constructed space of the museum. Illustrating this point, we had two such encounters as we passed through the beautiful country of Montana.
First Virginia City, a town that sprung up in 1863 and, with its neighbor Nevada City, became the richest and most prolific gold mining towns to date. Miners set their stakes in the mountains and rivers surrounding the area and brought their gold to be weighed and cashed in at Virginia City, doubtlessly much of it then spent at the bars that spot the town and now serve the tourists comfortable and pricy meals in their homely environment. This town has been entirely turned into a museum, in which a small population still exists. There is an old time candy shop, an ice cream maker (who treated us Huckleberry ice cream), and antique clothes dealers for those that have come to spend their money. Otherwise, one can stroll up and down Main Street and poke their head into building after building (all authentically restored or untouched in their original condition of disrepair) and see what a General Store would look like filled with signs like “Regular Malt Extract: Drink Schlitz” and shelves lined with cans of product of the day; or a blacksmith garage; or a barber shop; or a post office. It had it all and not much more and charmed we were: an entire town built for tourists without the glitz and necessity to spend money that so many places seem to rely upon.
The following day, on our way to Hamilton (to visit with Hanna’s second cousin Allen and his family) we made a side trip to the old copper mining town of Butte. Butte turned out to be a eerie place with a feel of a town that had suddenly had the floor dropped out from under it, a town that had built a fortune in copper mines and now is the proud owner of the most toxic stretch of water in all of the country. Wandering around such a ghostly town trying to get back on its feet was interesting but the real fun came at the Dumas Brothel. No, we didn’t stay for the night as the place closed in 1982 after a run of over 100 years (America’s longest running brothel) and now stands as a museum: a monument to an important part of America’s economy that most would like pass over and ignore. We are not those people. We sought it out and are glad that we did. The building stands in the same way it did in 1982 when it was closed after the proprietor was prosecuted for tax evasion. Ownership fell to an antique dealer on the grounds that he keeps it as authentic as he could and tell the story of the 120-year-old structure.
We were treated to a tour by a woman enthused with the history of the West’s whorehouses who responded to the fact that we are from Washington DC with, “Bet there aren’t many whorehouses around there”. I guess that depends on your definition. Anyhow, she began by explaining that as a copper mining town, it was well known that there were many more men than available women and the local police and government officials agreed (or were paid to agree) that it was far better to have women being paid for these services than raped as was otherwise common. There was a section of Butte that for years was kept for the over 18 crowd, cordoned off with fences, in which numerous brothels could operate and the Dumas is the only one left standing. There were 43 known rooms, otherwise known as ‘cribs’, and in its heyday the brothel employed enough women working 8 hour shifts to have all 43 rooms running 24 hours a day. Split into three levels, the costumers could choose their price level (in 1890, the going rate was $.50 for basement girls, $1 for parlor girls, and $1.50 for the high class third floor women, these prices are for a “quickie” or 10 minutes). Over the years as laws changed, so did the brothel. In 1943 the windows to the outside were closed when the US government required that all brothels shut down as part of the war effort; wouldn’t want our boys coming down with VD and staying out of the war. After that, men would buzz in first and then “browse” the windows that lined the internal hallway designed to replicate the feel of an alleyway.
Probably the most interesting part of the tour was in the basement of the building. It was well known that many of the women occupying this level were opium addicts for part/all of their tenure and men would pay the least for their company. The rooms were full of artifacts of the business (including opium vials, anti-VD remedies, etc and were decorated with pin-up pictures from the 30s and 40s (all of it coming directly from the Dumas). At either end of the basement hallway were tunnels. One led directly from a mineshaft, the other went out to underground tunnel systems that could connect to any part of town. Businessmen wouldn’t want their wives and otherwise respectable clients to know what they were doing after work. The scene was somewhat depressing and all the way interesting. I highly recommend supporting such museums as the history held in the Dumas contributed heavily to the history of women and of the area at large.
First Virginia City, a town that sprung up in 1863 and, with its neighbor Nevada City, became the richest and most prolific gold mining towns to date. Miners set their stakes in the mountains and rivers surrounding the area and brought their gold to be weighed and cashed in at Virginia City, doubtlessly much of it then spent at the bars that spot the town and now serve the tourists comfortable and pricy meals in their homely environment. This town has been entirely turned into a museum, in which a small population still exists. There is an old time candy shop, an ice cream maker (who treated us Huckleberry ice cream), and antique clothes dealers for those that have come to spend their money. Otherwise, one can stroll up and down Main Street and poke their head into building after building (all authentically restored or untouched in their original condition of disrepair) and see what a General Store would look like filled with signs like “Regular Malt Extract: Drink Schlitz” and shelves lined with cans of product of the day; or a blacksmith garage; or a barber shop; or a post office. It had it all and not much more and charmed we were: an entire town built for tourists without the glitz and necessity to spend money that so many places seem to rely upon.
The following day, on our way to Hamilton (to visit with Hanna’s second cousin Allen and his family) we made a side trip to the old copper mining town of Butte. Butte turned out to be a eerie place with a feel of a town that had suddenly had the floor dropped out from under it, a town that had built a fortune in copper mines and now is the proud owner of the most toxic stretch of water in all of the country. Wandering around such a ghostly town trying to get back on its feet was interesting but the real fun came at the Dumas Brothel. No, we didn’t stay for the night as the place closed in 1982 after a run of over 100 years (America’s longest running brothel) and now stands as a museum: a monument to an important part of America’s economy that most would like pass over and ignore. We are not those people. We sought it out and are glad that we did. The building stands in the same way it did in 1982 when it was closed after the proprietor was prosecuted for tax evasion. Ownership fell to an antique dealer on the grounds that he keeps it as authentic as he could and tell the story of the 120-year-old structure.
We were treated to a tour by a woman enthused with the history of the West’s whorehouses who responded to the fact that we are from Washington DC with, “Bet there aren’t many whorehouses around there”. I guess that depends on your definition. Anyhow, she began by explaining that as a copper mining town, it was well known that there were many more men than available women and the local police and government officials agreed (or were paid to agree) that it was far better to have women being paid for these services than raped as was otherwise common. There was a section of Butte that for years was kept for the over 18 crowd, cordoned off with fences, in which numerous brothels could operate and the Dumas is the only one left standing. There were 43 known rooms, otherwise known as ‘cribs’, and in its heyday the brothel employed enough women working 8 hour shifts to have all 43 rooms running 24 hours a day. Split into three levels, the costumers could choose their price level (in 1890, the going rate was $.50 for basement girls, $1 for parlor girls, and $1.50 for the high class third floor women, these prices are for a “quickie” or 10 minutes). Over the years as laws changed, so did the brothel. In 1943 the windows to the outside were closed when the US government required that all brothels shut down as part of the war effort; wouldn’t want our boys coming down with VD and staying out of the war. After that, men would buzz in first and then “browse” the windows that lined the internal hallway designed to replicate the feel of an alleyway.
Probably the most interesting part of the tour was in the basement of the building. It was well known that many of the women occupying this level were opium addicts for part/all of their tenure and men would pay the least for their company. The rooms were full of artifacts of the business (including opium vials, anti-VD remedies, etc and were decorated with pin-up pictures from the 30s and 40s (all of it coming directly from the Dumas). At either end of the basement hallway were tunnels. One led directly from a mineshaft, the other went out to underground tunnel systems that could connect to any part of town. Businessmen wouldn’t want their wives and otherwise respectable clients to know what they were doing after work. The scene was somewhat depressing and all the way interesting. I highly recommend supporting such museums as the history held in the Dumas contributed heavily to the history of women and of the area at large.
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