Irving Wallace: The Golden Room

'Aida and I were raised in the bluegrass country of Kentucky,' Minna began softly. 'We still have relatives there, aristocratic, genteel, and struggling. Our brother Charles and his two children are our main family. Charles was once a successful lawyer like our father, and he would still be one if he had not suffered a stroke. He had to give up his practice and is having difficulty holding on to the family house and farm. We've tried to help him, but he doesn't like taking money from us.' Minna poured, then continued more cheerfully. 'Anyway, his daughter is marrying into riches. Charles wrote to us recently that our niece, Cathleen, whom we haven't seen since she was a child, is engaged to marry the son of Harold T. Armbruster, the Chicago meat-packing king. Anyway, to get back to Aida and myself. Our father was a well-off lawyer. We were both sent to a Southern finishing school. Later on, we both fell in love with two handsome brothers and were wedded to them. Very fancy. But our husbands turned out to be spoiled brats, and not above being violent with us. Wouldn't you agree, Aida?'

From across the room, Aida piped up in a small voice, 'You know they were worse than that, Minna. Some of my bruises never went away.'

Minna addressed Chet Foley again. 'When you get to know me better, Chet, you'll know I'd never stand for anything like that for long. So I just upped and left my husband, divorced him, and went to Washington, D.C. A short time after, Aida did the same and followed me to Washington. At finishing school, we'd both studied elocution and play-acting, and so for want of anything else to do, we decided to become actresses. I must say, it didn't hurt that we were fairly good-looking.'

'You both still are, Minna,' Ostrow called out from the rear of the study.

'I agree,' Foley said with enthusiasm.

'Well, thank you, boys,' said Minna. 'Soon after we joined up, Aida and I found jobs in a stock company and travelled across the country. While we were on the road, our father died, and we inherited $35,000. We learned about this when we reached Omaha, where the Trans-Mississippi International Exposition was taking place. We wanted to leave the stock company – it was miserable work – we wondered if we could invest our money in something more lucrative and pleasant.'

'And this was your first idea?' asked Foley.

Minna thought about it. 'No, not really,' she said. 'We thought of becoming hat makers or tearoom hostesses. But then something happened. One day we overheard another actress say that her mother thought that being an actress was no better than being a prostitute. Aida and I looked at each other as if to say – hey, why not? We never became prostitutes, but we liked the idea of becoming madams. Business women, to be exact. I was always good at handling people, and Aida was efficient at handling finances and details.'

'So just like that you became madams,' Foley said.

'Right then and there,' Minna affirmed. 'Remember, Aida?'

Aida was remembering. 'It was a memorable decision.'

Addressing Foley once more, Minna went on. 'We acquired a rundown house, redecorated it with our own money, and opened it up to the free-spending males swarming over the fair. By the time the fair wound up, our $35,000 holdings had doubled to $70,000. Without the fair, we knew that Omaha couldn't do much for us. We needed a bigger city. Also, equally important, we needed the fanciest, most unforgettable house in the United States. Then Aida and I had the same idea at the same time. To take a trip. Travel around and see the best brothels in Europe and the U.S.A. to pick up hints from them. So that's what we did. We spent a year visiting the most luxurious houses and meeting the most successful madams. We learned what we could before going into our own business once more. By the time we returned from our travels, Aida and I had a fairly good idea what a perfect brothel should be.'

'All we didn't know was where to put it,' said Aida.

'That's right,' agreed Minna. 'So I wrote again to Cleo Maitland in Washington, D.C., and said we'd like to visit her and get some advice. And that's what we did. Aida and I checked into the Willard Hotel, and we found Cleo at – what was it? – yes, 1233 D Street, a brick row house. Cleo was posing as a landlady, and the six girls living there were her female boarders. Cleo was most cordial. I told her we had finished our research, and now we needed a city, a big city with plenty of wealthy men, a city with no luxurious houses. Immediately, Cleo had the answer to that. " Chicago, Illinois," she told us. "A city rich with millionaires, a well-protected red-light district, and without one high-class beautiful bordello." She said, "I even know the perfect house you can get for yourselves in Chicago. It's really two adjoining three-storey mansions with fifty rooms at 2131 South Dearborn Street. It was built by a madam, Lizzie Allen, for $125,000 for the World's Columbian Exposition. After the fair, Lizzie decided to retire. She leased the house and sold its furnishings to Effie Hankins, another madam. Recently, Effie wrote to me that she wanted to retire too, and told me to keep an eye out for a possible buyer. Well, ladies, there's your seraglio in Chicago – $55,000 for the furnishings, with the girls already on the premises, the goodwill, and a rental price of $500 a month on a long-term lease. I'd look into it right away." So Aida and I hurried to Chicago, and looked over the house. It couldn't have been more perfect. We leased it at once.'

'Already – just like that,' Foley marvelled.

Minna shook her head. 'No, we began to make changes. The first thing we changed was our name. We were Minna and Aida Lester. But our grandmother in Kentucky always ended her letters to us by signing them, "Everly Yours". Well, that sounded better. We became the Everly – spelled Everleigh – sisters. Then we got rid of all the sloppy, uncouth, hardened prostitutes. We ransacked the entire country for the most attractive, sexually skilled, ladylike girls we could find, starting with young actresses we knew from our earlier career. We dressed all of them in evening gowns and good manners. We fired the uppity white servants, and replaced them with decent, more respectful, efficient coloured valets and maids. Then there was the matter of fees.'

Minna took another sip of her champagne and went on. 'The average madam in the Levee charged customers fifty cents to a dollar for a toss in bed. Since we were offering more, we charged more. It cost our customers fifty dollars for a session with a girl. We installed a restaurant, with a minimum charge of fifty dollars for dinner and twelve dollars for a bottle of wine. We shared our profits with our staff.'

'And no one objected to your higher prices?' asked Foley.

Minna shook her head vigorously. 'No one objected. They welcomed paying for what we gave them. Our customers have included Ring Lardner, Edgar Lee Masters, Marshall Field, Jr, Stanley Ketchel, Percy Hammond, George Ade, James J. Corbett, John Barrymore, John "Bet a Million" Gates, and Jack Johnson, whom I mentioned before, as well as certain United States senators who often spend their vacations here.'

Minna stood up, and set down her empty glass.

'Now, Chet, I'm going to give you a personally conducted grand tour of the Everleigh Club. You'll see what we learned in our travels, and you'll see some innovations of our own… Aida, you keep Tom Ostrow occupied right there. He's had the tour. I'm going to take this boy around. Come along, Chet.'

In the hall, Minna took Foley's arm and led him to the Everleigh Club's library, which had books on every wall, most of them leather-bound. Foley ran a finger along the sets of books, one the complete works of Honore de Balzac, another the complete poems of Percy Bysshe Shelley. Minna chuckled. 'You know what "Bet a Million" Gates said when he saw this library? "Minna, that's educating the wrong end of a whore.'"