Tracy Beach - My Life as a Whore: The Biography of Madam Laura Evens

My Life as a Whore

The Biography of Madam Laura Evens 18711953

Tracy Beach

Johnson Books

an Imprint of Bower House

Denver

My Life as a Whore: the Biography of Madam Laura Evens 18711953 . Copyright 2015 by Tracy Beach. All rights reserved. Printed in the United States of America. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews. Bower House books may be purchased with bulk discounts for educational, business, or sales promotional use.

For information, contact Bower House at BowerHouseBooks.com.

Paperback ISBN: 978-1-55566-462-6

Ebook ISBN: 978-1-55566-484-8

Cover design by Margaret McCullough

Text design and composition by D.K. Luraas

Library of Congress Control Number: 2015939490

Contents

Acknowledgments

Introduction

The sweet taste of candy and the white fur coat

A mirrored ceiling and the crystal chandelier

Fuzzy burros and the bottle of Listerine

The salmon in the sandpit

Arse bandits and dickey dazzlers

The pony ride

Chocolate teapots and an ancient forest

Canaries and diamond garter buckles

A toothy grin and the gray jumpsuit

$25,000 and a shot between the ears

Roman gladiators and a head full of quail feet

The insane asylum and a dead president

A dead lieutenant and the pot of soup

.The fourth floor tower and the blood-stained shirt

A $20 gold piece and bottles of bootleg booze

The boxers wife and a bottle of Lysol

The Chihuahua puppy and a bottle of happy dust

The historic President and the alien encounter

Noisy parrots and the water mill

Endnotes

Bibliography

Acknowledgments

Id like to thank my wonderful husband, Doug, for helping me fill our house with photos of vintage nudes and historical artifacts. To my children, Airick and India, for all their help with the piles of interviews I needed to organize. To Tracee Bruce for being my biggest cheerleader and always giving me ideas when I got stuck. To Jeff Donlan, from the Salida Regional Library, for giving me the original idea and helping me with photographs. To Dick Leppard, Laura Evens great-grandson, for sharing his familys history and Lauras private photographs and diaries. And a special thanks to Bob McCormick from the Monarch Shriners for allowing me to tour Lauras parlor house not once, but three times, and for giving me historical paperwork regarding the house.

Introduction

Inside the basement of the Salida, Colorado, library sat a small cardboard box. The librarian handed it to me with a smile. Nobody has ever written a book about her its time someone did.

I placed the box on a table and after wiping off the dust I opened it. Inside I discovered a pile of papers, seven old photos, and two small paperback books.

Fred Mazzulla interviewed her from the late 1940s and up until weeks before her death in 1953. He wrote these two books on prostitution. One covers Denver and barely mentions her and the other covers prostitution all around the United States, he said, as he held up the two small books. He then carelessly tossed them back into the box with an annoyed huff.

As I took the papers out of the box, I saw the photosan old woman rolling a cigarette, a lady on a donkey, a group of women standing next to a bar. Which was Laura Evens?

I was raised in Salida, but had never heard her story. I never knew that Sackett Street, down near the park, had once been the towns red light district or that my town even had a red light district. After filling the librarys copy machine with dimes, I copied every paper and photo in the box.

Five minutes later I found myself parked on Sackett Street and looking at it in a way I had never seen it before. What was once just a street that held cheap apartments now held a story. I got out of my truck and slowly walked past each building, as though seeing them for the first time, and in a way, I was. Walking to the end of the block, I stopped at the two-story building that I only knew as the Shriners building.

The familiar Mon-Ark Shrine Club sign above the red painted front door now seemed out of place. The copy of the photo that I held in my hand showed an older woman pointing to a small white sign on that same door, which read No Girls. As I walked slowly around the building, I noticed something odd except for a small circular window, too high for an average person to look through, the first floor no longer had any windows.

Through the stucco, which covered the building, the outlines of the old window frames could be seen peeking out. Eager to start my research on this woman who had captured my interest, I contacted the Mon-Ark Shriners.

After leaving a message, I headed back to work. I had been working at the Starbucks inside the Salida Safeway. Being a small kiosk, each employee worked alone for most of his or her shift, which came in handy for what I was about to do interview every single person who bought coffee.

As the months continued, I was able to find people who had not only heard of Laura Evens but had known her. I found myself spending my free time interviewing elderly residents of my town and hearing amazing stories of a woman I was only beginning to understand. I visited the local nursing home and spent hours with people who were thrilled that their lives were once again being thought of as useful.

The Shriners, happy to share their buildings history, allowed me to have a tour. As we walked around, they explained how the original staircase that led up to the second floor had been moved over to the far corner. A newly created trap door sealed off the second floor from sight. All people could see now was an oddly placed staircase that stopped at the ceiling.

As we continued the tour of the first floor, they explained how they had torn the bedroom, which had belonged to Laura Evens, off the side of the building. The back of the building, which originally held a bathroom, kitchen, and large screened-in porch, was torn apart and only the kitchen remained.

The second floor, which was accessible after the trap door was unlocked, held the best treasure. The girls original rooms had been left untouched but the years had not been kind. The roof of the building had leaked terribly over the years. The walls and ceiling were collapsing and years of old water stains had rotted the wallpaper. As I walked from room to room, I was faced with the challenge of ducking under 2x4 braces in order to tour each room.

The rooms still contained the original flowered wallpaper, and you could see where a small sink had been mounted to the wall, an area for a small wood stove, and what appeared to be a very large walk-in closet. In a time when most homes used an armoire, it was an odd find. Was this small room used for something else? A writing desk? A small sitting room?

After taking photos of every room and writing down everything I was told, I left the building with an increased sense of curiosity. But how do I find out more than what was written in the small stack of interviews? Luckily, my questions were about to be answeredthis time, by a large envelope and a secret promise.

As I stood at work making coffees, a familiar face approached me. With a finger to his lips, he handed me a large envelope. As I slid the paper out, I saw my next clue to this amazing woman her daughters death certificate.

As you can see, the paper lists her grandsons name and address which is Laura Evens great-grandson, he pointed out with a smile. Dick Leppard, Salt Lake City, Utah.