SEPTEMBER:
NEW ADULT ROMANCE

09-23 Getting to Know Lynn Hammond, Author of RISKY LIES

Thursday, July 25, 2013

WHORE HOUSES IN THE WILD WEST - MARGARET TANNER


The movie, The Best Little Whorehouse In Texas, was made in 1982, and featured Burt Reynolds and Dolly Parton. It was based on a story by Larry King and inspired by the real life Chicken Ranch in La Grange, Texas.
The Chicken Ranch was an illegal but tolerated Texan brothel operating from 1905 until 1973. It was located in Fayette County a couple of miles out of La Grange.
The original brothel that became the Chicken Ranch opened in 1844. It was forced to close during the civil war but later re-opened.
There have numerous books published with a brothel or bordello, as some people like to call them, as a central part of the story, particularly in Westerns. I prefer to deal with high class brothels in my stories.

In my historical novel, Fiery Possession, there is a high class brothel known as Glory’s. In my novel Savage Possession, there is also a high class brothel called the Black Stallion. Both of these establishments figure prominently in my stories. Like the old West, in frontier Australia, there was a huge single male population but very few women.

FIERY POSSESSION - A SCENE FROM GLORY'S 
They passed through the almost empty main street of town, and about half a mile further on pulled into the drive of a large house. It was a double storied place, with delicate cast iron lace work on the balcony. An impressive entrance door had a huge fan light with pictorial stained glass side panels. Surely this wasn't where Glory operated from? 
In the cobbled backyard, the man helped them down before depositing the bag on the ground.
“Thank you.”
He acknowledged this with a nod, touched his hat, and drove towards a red brick coach house.
Glory hurried over, her large breasts bulging from the low cut bodice of a bright green dress. “You’re here at last!  Come to Auntie Glory.” She scooped Mark out of Jo's arms, and left her to carry the bag inside. “I thought,” she spoke over one shoulder, “you might prefer to come in through the back entrance because it's private.”
Inside this section of the house, Jo was surprised to find it tastefully decorated. In the hallway stood a seventeenth century, long case clock with marquetry inlay and a glass 'bull’s eye' at the bottom of the trunk. Entering the sitting room, she noticed several miniatures on the walls.
“How lovely.” She tried to hide her surprise at finding such a tasteful d├ęcor.
“Surprised, are you?”  Glory might well have been a mind reader.
“It's different than what I expected.”
 “I've had a bath house built recently.” Glory sounded almost childlike in her endeavor to impress. On the back lawn, almost concealed behind tall shrubs, stood a brick building with arched windows and doorway. The central bath had water pumped through pipes from the river.
“It's the latest thing, Jo.”
Out in the daylight, the thick make up could not conceal the deep wrinkles creasing Glory's face.
“It's all very nice, but maybe a bit pretentious, if you don’t mind my saying so.”
The other woman patted her on the shoulder, laughing uproariously. “Don't quite know about pretentious, but I like it. So do the customers.”
They passed a large pond with pink water lilies floating on top. Jo averted her eyes from the centerpiece of a white marble statue of a naked woman mounted on a rearing horse.
“Whereabouts do, well, the girls, work from?” 
“Upstairs. I'll show you around inside now.”
The gaming room had mahogany tables and chairs. Another room, obviously a private bar by the numerous bottles displayed at the back of a circular counter, was upholstered in velvet. Glory did not offer to take her out to the public bar, to Jo’s relief.
In all the rooms, Jo noticed that the ceilings had white plasterwork and intricately crafted cornices. Basket-shaped chandeliers formed the lighting. No expense had been spared to cater for everyone's comfort.
The bar room consisted of a small highly polished dance floor and a large piano set on a raised platform. Frescoes of naked cherubs decorated the ceiling in this room, and one wall was crafted out of beaten copper. Classy, all right, where a local man with money might indulge himself for a few hours, or a wealthy traveler could stay for days.
Glory explained that the girls circulated round the tables, letting the men choose their drinks and a partner if they felt so inclined.


Fiery Possession and Savage Possession are both available from my publisher,
Books We Love, in various formats




7 comments:

Paty Jager said...

Margaret, I tend to have either brothels or bordellos, or prostitutes in many of my westerns. They were a part of the times. My favorite book is "Improper Pinkerton" where my heroine pretends to be a French prostitute in a fancy Bordello.

The Australian versions of bordellos sounds grander and more open than the U.S. ones. The books sounds like a good read. Good luck with sales!

Judith Ashley said...

Our countries have many common threads in our histories. I always like "...Little Whorehouse in Texas" because I like Dolly Parton's singing...and there was a certain truth to the story in terms of how the world viewed (and still in many cases) views women.

I'll have to check out Fiery Possession.

Diana Mcc. said...

Loved the except of your new book. Good blog post! Good luck with sales.

Margaret Tanner said...

Hi Diana

Thank you for dropping by, I appreciate it.

cheers

Margaret,

Margaret Tanner said...

Hi Paty,
Yes they were, like in early Australia the American West had a large single male population, so it would be unreasonable to think that there were no brothels/bordellos. I think it adds an extra layer to our stories.
I do only write about high class places, though.

Cheers

Margaret

Margaret Tanner said...

Hi Judith,
Yes, it is amazing how similar our two countries were in the olden days, well in these modern days too, for that matter.

cheers

Margaret

Sarah Raplee said...

Lovely description in your excerpt, Margaret!

You might be interested to learn that the sidewalks of Seattle were paid for by a tax on 'seamstresses', a euphemism for prostitutes. As long as they paid the tax, the city looked the other way. It's a long story.