_The_ TRAGEDIES OF
THE WHITE SLAVES
[Illustration]
TRUE STORIES EXPOSING METHODS
USED IN TRAPPING INNOCENT GIRLS
Tragedies of the White Slave
True stories of the White Slavery taken from actual life.
Each one dealing with a different method by
which white slavers have lured innocent
victims to destruction.
TEN TRAGEDIES OF TEN GIRLS
The Tragedy of the Want Ad
The Tragedy of the The Theatrical Agency
The Tragedy of the Maternity House
The Tragedy of the Girl with the Hair
The Tragedy of Mona Marshall
The Tragedy of the Little Immigrant
The Tragedy of the Army Lieutenant
The Tragedy of the Young Wife
The Tragedy of the Little Cash Girl
The Tragedy of the Ella Gingles
BY
H. M. LYTLE,
Special Investigator for the Metropolitan Press
THE CHARLES C. THOMPSON CO.
(Not Inc.)
COPYRIGHT, 1909,
BY
THE CHARLES C. THOMPSON CO.
Contents.
Foreword 3
CHAPTER I.
The Tragedy of the Maternity Home 9
CHAPTER II.
The Tragedy of the Want Ad 23
CHAPTER III.
The Tragedy of the Assignation House 39
CHAPTER IV.
The Tragedy of the Immigrant Girl 48
CHAPTER V.
The Tragedy of the Stage 59
CHAPTER VI.
The Tragedy of the Five Thousand 77
CHAPTER VII.
The Tragedy of the Little Lace Maker
(Ella Gingles' Own Story) 92
CHAPTER VIII.
The First Night 103
CHAPTER IX.
Arrested 117
CHAPTER X.
The Second Orgy 126
CHAPTER XI.
Ella Gingles On Trial (by Hal McLeod
Lytle) 140
CHAPTER XII.
The Return Home 191
Foreword.
The lives of 5,000 young girls are laid upon the altar of lust every
year in the city of Chicago alone.
The insatiable rapacity of man, the lust of the hunt, the demands of
brutish passion ordain it that these 5,000 young innocents be led forth
to the slaughter, annually.
This statement is not a matter of guess. It is the estimate of officers
of the Chicago Law and Order League, the Illinois Vigilance Society,
the police authorities and Assistant State's Attorney Clifford G. Roe.
There are 68,000 women leading a nameless existence in the city of
Chicago alone. This is the police estimate, based upon a census made by
the captains of the different police districts. It includes the women
who live--and die--in the temples of shame on Twenty-second street,
on the Strand in South Chicago, on the West Side, and on Wells street
and vicinity on the North Side. It includes the "street walkers," the
girls who infest such dance halls in Twenty-second street, the women in
private flats, and the mistresses of wealthy men.
The average duration of a woman leading a life of shame is from two to
twelve years, according to Dr. L. Blake Baldwin, city physician. Dr.
Baldwin places his average at four years, basing this upon the life of
the woman in the brothel where the majority of fallen women are to be
found.
Drink, which goes hand in hand with vice, cigarette smoking, various
kinds of "dope," the all night method of living and the daily
vicissitudes of existence are the contributing causes, according to Mr.
Baldwin. But the chief cause of early demise is the ravages of diseases
inseparable from immoral life.
The result is that the market houses are yawning, constantly holding
forth an insatiable maw into which new blood must be poured, new lives
must be thrown, more young innocents must be devoured.
And this is the reason for the existence of this book. If one mother
or father may be warned in time, if one single life may be saved from
the traps men make and the lures they bait for the enslavement of the
flower and innocence of the nation the author will have been well
repaid indeed.
* * * * *
A great many persons are yet skeptical of the existence of an
organized traffic in young girls. If they could have been in the
courts of Chicago their minds would have been disabused of the idea
that organized slavery does not exist in Chicago.--Assistant State's
Attorney Clifford G. Roe.
Within one week I had seven letters from fathers, from Madison,
Wisconsin, on the north, to Peoria, Illinois, on the south, asking me
in God's name to do something to help find their daughters because they
had come to Chicago and disappeared. The mothers, the fathers, even the
daughters must be educated regarding the lures that men set or white
slavery can not be abolished.--Judge John R. Newcomer, of the Municipal
Courts.
This book should go into the homes of every family in this wide nation,
rich and poor, sophisticated and unsophisticated, city homes or country
homes. It is only when parents _realize_ the pitfalls that they will
be able to avoid them.--The Rev. R. Keene Ryan, Pastor of the Garfield
Boulevard Presbyterian Church.
Weakness and lack of understanding appeal to me as the opportunity for
the work of these human vultures. That young women passing the ages
of from 15 to 20 years need more counsel and guidance than many good
mothers suspect.--Judge Richard S. Tuthill, of the Juvenile Court.
The victims of the traffic are first ensnared, then enslaved, then
diseased. Not until honest men take the stand that will result in
the abolition of the segregated districts can this practice of white
slavery be stopped.--The Rev. Ernest A. Bell, Superintendent of the
Midnight Mission and Secretary of the Illinois Vigilance Association.
The recent examination of more than 200 "white slaves" by the office of
the United States district attorney has brought to light the fact that
literally thousands of innocent girls from the country districts are
every year entrapped into a life of hopeless slavery and degradation
because their parents do not understand conditions as they exist and
how to protect their daughters from the white slave traders who have
reduced the art of ruining young girls to a national and international
system.--Hon. Edwin W. Simms, United States District Attorney at
Chicago.
If parents will shut their eyes to this canker that is feeding on the
flower of our nation they may continue to expect their daughters to be
"kidnapped," lost or mysteriously missing.--Arthur Burrage Farwell, of
the Law and Order League.
THE TRAGEDIES OF THE WHITE SLAVES.
CHAPTER I.
THE TRAGEDY OF THE MATERNITY HOME.
A young reporter for a great Chicago newspaper was sent by his city
editor into the heart of the "red light" district to investigate a
murder at one of the city's brothels.
The trail of the story led the reporter into one of the most notorious
dens of the city, the "E---- club." This home of vice is located in
a three-story stone mansion. Around it radiates the elite of the
district. It is owned by two sisters, immensely wealthy, who have made
their fortune through the barter of girls' souls.
A negro butler attired in livery admitted him into the reception room
of this gilded den. Velvet carpets that sank beneath the feet covered
the floors. Massive paintings by old masters were on the walls. The
gilded ceilings radiated the glare of vari-colored lights which studded
it.
From the silver dance-room came the sound of soft music, interspersed
with the discordant laughter of drunken men and girls.
In a few seconds a woman entered the reception room. She was prettily
clad in a flowing silk gown. Her mass of black hair was wreathed about
her head.
As she met the gaze of the reporter she started, and fled, as though
terrified, from the room. The recognition had been mutual.
In the face of the fallen woman the reporter had seen the features of
an innocent girl who had been a playmate of but a few years before.
Her family was wealthy. Her father was one of the most prominent
surgeons in Illinois. In the city in which they lived he had served
several terms as mayor. She had been the belle of the town. Her many
accomplishments and innocence had won her many suitors. But she spurned
them all for the love of her father and mother. She was the only child
in the family. Her every wish and want had been fulfilled.
But a year before the reporter had heard that she had died. The papers
in the town contained articles at the time lamenting her death.
According to the stories, she had been drowned in Lake Michigan while
sailing in a yacht. A body of a girl supposedly that of her's had been
shipped home. There had been a funeral.
Since that time the father and mother had been disconsolate. The memory
of the daughter was never from their minds. They spent the greater part
of the days at the side of the grave in the cemetery. After dusk had
fallen they sat in the pretty boudoir that had been the room of their
child. Not a thing had been touched in the room. The beautiful dresses
and garments that had once been worn by their daughter still were
neatly hung in their places. The little mementoes still lay about the
room. And in the dim light that radiated from a fireplace the father
and mother could picture the face of their daughter, whom they believed
to have been so ruthlessly torn from them by death.
Quickly recovering from the shock, the seeming apparition had given
him, the reporter dashed after the girl.
She ran into a room and attempted to lock the reporter out. He forced
his way in. As he did so, she fell at his feet screaming and pleading.
Her mind seemed to have suddenly become unbalanced.
"Don't tell papa and mamma I'm alive," she shrieked; "they believe me
to be dead and it is better so. I'll kill myself if you tell them."
The reporter could scarcely believe that girl could be the same
innocent, high-minded child he had known but a few months before.
After much persuasion, she was finally calmed. She would not lift her
head or look into her childhood friend's eyes.
"Come and get out of this fearful hole at once," the reporter
demanded, grasping her by the arm.
The crying of the girl ceased. Her muscles grew tense and rigid.
"I will stay here," she said quietly; "stay here until I die. No
pleadings will change me. My mind has been made up for some time. I'm
an animal now. The innocent girl that you once knew is now no part of
me. I'm all that is bad now. When I leave this life, it will be in
death."
"But your father and mother would receive you back--they needn't know
anything of this," pleaded the reporter.
"I'm dead to them and in death I am still pure and innocent in their
eyes. They are happy in their belief," slowly said the girl, her eyes
filling with tears. She paused for some time, a faraway look in her
eyes.
It was as though she were gazing into the past of but a short time
before. Her features assumed those of the innocent girl she had been,
then as she thought they gradually seemed to grow more hardened and
steel-like. Finally, after some moments she broke the silence.
"I will tell you why I am here," she said. "I will tell you why I will
not go back.
"You can remember, not a long time ago, when I was all that was good. I
hardly knew the meaning of a profane word. I was worshiped and petted.
"I have done some good in my life. It was this good and the hope to do
even more that finally led to my ruin. In the convent where I went to
school, we had been taught to be charitable. I was happy in helping the
poor and sick.
"The fact that my father was a physician gave me an inspiration. When
I had reached my twentieth birthday, I decided to learn to be a nurse,
so that I might do more for the poor. In the home town I could not do
this. So I went to a neighboring city and entered a state hospital.
There I worked as a common apprentice nurse for ten months. I did not
receive any pay for my services. I had plenty of money anyway.
"I grew to love one of the physicians. He apparently loved me as
much. My life seemed to be tied up in his. He asked me to marry him.
I was overjoyed at the thought. We were constantly together and I was
radiantly happy.
"One night, he made suggestions to me. He said we would soon be married
and that in view of that, it would not be wrong. I trusted explicitly
in him and believed what he said. Then I fell.
"It is useless for me to try to tell you of the lies, the protestations
of love, the excuses and suggestions he made that caused me to fall.
No one could understand that but me. No one could excuse it but me.
"A short time later I found that I was to become a mother. I was happy
then. I should bear him a child. I told him of this. He suddenly grew
cold in his actions. Then he avoided me. Disheartened I pleaded for him
to marry me. He laughed in my face and told me he had never intended to
do such a thing. I fainted under this torrent of abuse.
"The thought that I had been cast aside nearly cost me my reason. I
knew I could not go home in such a condition. I had heard that in
Chicago maternity hospitals were easy to enter, so one night I packed
some of my clothing and slipping away from the hospital, boarded a
train.
"I was frightened nearly out of my senses at the enormity of my act.
Across the aisle from me in the railroad coach, sat an elderly woman.
Her face seemed kindly. After a few minutes' ride, she smiled at me.
Then when I vainly attempted to smile back, she came over and sat down
beside me.
"She talked very motherly to me. Soon I had told her my whole story.
She was very sympathetic. She said she pitied me in my trouble and
would help me. I clung to her as though she were a mother. After we had
talked some time, she told me that she had a maiden aunt in Chicago at
whose home I could live and that she would see that I received proper
medical attention. I accepted her offer gratefully.
"When we reached Chicago she assisted me with my baggage and into a
waiting cab. For some time we drove about the city.
"At last we arrived at a big stone mansion. It was lighted almost from
top to bottom.
"'Auntie must be entertaining tonight,' laughed the woman. 'We'll go
right in and to our rooms. No one will see us.'
"A negro, attired in livery, came out and carried our baggage in. We
went at once to rooms on the upper floor. I did not know where I was.
I believed what the elderly woman had told me, that I was at the home
of the aunt. It was not until two weeks later that I found out I was in
this den of vice, where I now am.
"For those two weeks I was treated as well as could be wished. Two
elderly women came often to see me and talked pleasantly. A doctor came
and attended me through my illness.
"I can't make you understand the shock that came to me when they told
me that I would have no baby. The man and the two women had attended to
that. My baby was dead. There seemed nothing else to live for.
"One morning when I had nearly recovered, I got out of bed and went to
the door. To my dismay I found that it was locked from the outside.
The windows were also locked. When the women came a short time later I
asked them about it. They merely laughed and gave me no answer.
"It was only a few nights later when I was awakened by the sound of a
man's voice. In the darkness I could see him standing beside my bed.
I screamed and screamed but no one came. I jumped out of bed and ran
to the door. It was securely locked. The man laughed at my efforts to
evade him.
"Finally he pressed a button on the wall. Two women, dressed in short
costumes that barely reached to the knees, came into the room. The man
threw me on a bed and the two women held me.
"After that I was given something to eat. Instantly I seemed bereft of
my senses. It was not until a week later that I became normal again.
It was during that week that my ruin was forever accomplished. Of what
occurred I have but a vague recollection.
"I realized then that I could never return home again. I grew morose
and sullen as I thought. Often I tried to force myself to take my own
life, but the thoughts of my evil deeds kept me from doing so.
"The days that passed were like the fancies of a disordered mind.
Gradually the atmosphere, the viciousness of it seeped through me and
took the place of the innocence, the wifely feeling, the mother love
of which I had been robbed. The process of degradation, of evolution
into accepting life in this prison came about swiftly. I found myself
accepting this home, this place where I might exist.
"You know the verse:
"'Vice is a monster of so frightful mien
As to be hated needs but to be seen;
Yet seen too oft, familiar with its face,
We first endure, then pity, then embrace.'
"That describes my case. The owners of the place gradually extended my
liberties. I remember the first day that came when they said I might go
out alone. They would trust me to come back.
"I had formulated a plan that morning. In the Chicago papers I had seen
a story telling of the finding of a girl of about my age in the waters
of Lake Michigan, near Lincoln Park. She did not have a coat or hat on
and a portion of her other clothing was missing.
"I went to a spot along the shore, near where the body had been found.
I took off my coat and hat and soaked it in the water. I left a small
pocketbook with my name and a small amount of money inside the coat
pocket. Then I hurried back to this place.
"The clothing was found and turned over to the police. The name and
address were also noted. My parents were notified. They came at once to
Chicago. The body of the girl had been in the water for some time. They
could not identify it but easily identified the clothing.
"The body was taken home. I read of the terrible grief of my parents
with tearful eyes. I read of my own burial. Often I knelt and prayed
for my sorrowing parents.
"Then I knew it was all over. To the world I was dead. To myself my
pure and innocent life was a thing of the past. I had forever cut off
family ties. But to them I would forever be known as the pure child
that they knew and loved.
"I have not associated with the women here any more than I had to. I
have never drank nor smoked cigarettes, despite their attempts to force
me to do so.
"I have tried to imagine myself leading a different life. I have gone
to church and fancied myself clothed with the purity and innocence of
the other days. Perhaps I turned my head to look about me. Perhaps
I heard a smothered exclamation not meant for my ears. Mocking me,
driving me back to a realization of my degradation, would be a
face--the face of a man who had come to the 'E---- Club' in search of a
vent for his beastly desires. He could do what I could not and yet be
respected. When I sought out a place of worship, even he was ready to
point a mocking finger, to leer at me with an insulting smile.
"In the theatres, in the parks, in the shopping districts and on the
streets of the city I have tried, for just a little while, to imagine
myself the girl of the olden days. Always, everywhere, omnipresent has
been the reminder that drove me back to the 'E----' with a sigh of
relief and a sense of refuge. Can you understand?
"I have steeled myself to live this life because there is no other left
to me.
"I have hoped and prayed that I would not live long, that I would grow
ugly in features and a person whom men would shun, but in vain. But I
know that sooner or later my hope will be realized."
"But I can help to save you. I can put you in a position where you can
earn a respectable living and where you will be happy," pleaded the
reporter.
For a time the girl was in deep thought. When she raised her head again
her eyes were wet with tears.
"I couldn't do it. I can never be anything else now," she said. "Were I
to take a position, it would be but a question of time until some man
who had seen me in this place would recognize me. I would be discharged
and driven into even a deeper life of shame.
"It is impossible to even contemplate such a thing.
"When a woman falls, she falls never to rise again. The thoughts of her
evil life are forever a menace to her. They pursue her constantly. She
never can resume her former sphere in life."
"Isn't there anything that I can do to cause you to come with me and do
right?" asked the reporter.
"There is nothing that anyone can do. What I am now I will always be,"
she replied.
"Won't you at least meet me away from this awful place and try to spend
at least part of your evenings in the respectable way to which you were
accustomed?" was asked.
"I will meet you where no one would recognize either you or I," was the
reply. "I would not disgrace you by having anyone know me.
"You will not meet the little girl you knew, though. Henceforth you
must meet a fallen woman, a woman who sells her flesh, pound by pound,
to human vultures. You had best change your mind. For myself, I would
be delighted to be with you, but the old memories are painful. I will
see you but you must never come here for me."
When the reporter left the sin-cursed place, there were tears in his
eyes. To him it was as though he were deserting his own sister to the
ravages of a pack of wolves.
Half a block away from the place he paused in deep thought. Should
he go at once to her parents and tell them of the finding of their
daughter, that she was alive?
He knew they would gladly receive her back, that any and all of her
wrongs would be overlooked. He thought of their great love for her, of
their deep grief in her death.
But as he thought, he could see a fireside in a city but a few hundred
miles distant. Side by side sat a couple. The man was a personage
slightly bent, as though bowed down with some grief in the middle of
life. The woman's hair was tinged with gray. Her motherly face was lit
by a radiant smile, as though she were dreaming of something heavenly.
He could see them clasp hands and sit for hours dreaming of the
happiness of but a few months before. Then the father would rise, and,
walking across the room, caress some tiny trinket, such as gladdens
the heart of a girl. He would pick up a picture, that of a beautiful,
laughing girl, radiant in the innocence of the unknowing girl. Long he
would gaze at it. Then imprinting a kiss on the face of the picture,
he would lay it carefully back in its place. They were happy in the
thought that their child was in a better world--of that fact they had
no doubt.
The reporter's mind was quickly made up.
"It is better so," he half muttered. "It is better so."
Slowly he retraced his steps past the den where he had found her. An
automobile had just come to a stop at the curb. Several well dressed
men, in the last stages of intoxication, staggered from the car.
Swearing and cursing, they mounted the steps of the house. The door was
opened to admit them. From the house came the wild scream of a drunken
woman mingled with the coarser yells of drunken men.
Then the door closed.