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Women in Blue

16 Brave Officers, Forensics Experts, Police Chiefs, and More

Chicago Review Press Incorporated

SADIE LIKENS

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Defying Denver's Powerful

HURDY-GURDY GIRLS, painted ladies, and saloon girls — women who worked in dance halls went by a variety of names, but most shared similar lives, in dangerous and oftentimes brutal surroundings. Late 1800s Colorado offered jobs for women in the saloons and dance halls that peppered the landscape in cow towns, mining camps, and cities across the state. Colorado was part of what was called the Wild West; and while many viewed it romantically, there was very little attractive about the life of a saloon girl.

Not all were prostitutes, but it often became a slippery slope resisting the plunge into the disreputable side of the saloon environment. Dance hall girls were paid to perform onstage, dance with customers, and steer clients to the bar for more drinks. The men paid about 50 cents for the privilege of dancing for 15 minutes with one of the girls, who earned a fraction of the fare. It wasn't unusual for a woman to dance as many as 50 dances in a night of drinking, gambling, and rabble-rousing.

It was through the ill-fated experiences of a young dance hall girl in Denver that Sadie Likens became the city's first police matron and advocate for the city's most vulnerable inhabitants.

It was sometime in 1886 that a young dance hall girl found herself pregnant and alone. She couldn't continue working, and she had nowhere to live. She had no one to turn to for help. Then she heard about the Woman's Christian Temperance Union (WCTU) and got in touch with women from the organization — one of whom contacted the young woman's family and told them about her situation. They were ashamed of their daughter and suggested she go to a reformatory. The young woman was heartbroken and desperate. And before the women of the WCTU could find a solution to her problem, she took her life.

The experiences of the young dance hall woman spurred action from the WCTU members. The group had long fought the evils of alcohol and its adverse effects on families. They were also activists on behalf of destitute women and abused or neglected children, and 19th-century Colorado had plenty of both. Soon after the death of the young dance hall girl, the WCTU established the Colorado Cottage Home — a refuge for pregnant girls and women. And the organization chose one of their most energetic members — Sadie Likens — to run the new institute.

Sadie had grappled with life's challenges herself by the time she became matron of Cottage Home. Her own mother had died when Sadie was only 4 years old. By the time she was 22 she had endured the death of her Union soldier husband and her firstborn child. Her second husband, William Likens, turned out to be a big disappointment. He also was a veteran of the Civil War and after the war became a lawyer. But his ethics were questionable. He was convicted of forgery and sentenced to four years of hard labor in the Colorado State Penitentiary. After serving most of his sentence, William was released and moved to Washington — without Sadie and their four children. By the time Sadie helped organize the Colorado Cottage Home, she was in need of a refuge herself. While she served as matron, she and her children lived at the home.

The Denver WCTU recognized another need in the city. In Denver, as in most cities, women who were arrested for various crimes were searched by male jailers and held in cells with male prisoners. Some of the women were prostitutes, and the men took advantage of them. Even women who were in jail for crimes such as shoplifting and drunkenness were not safe. Children who were runaways, lost, or whose parents had been arrested were also brought to the city jails. It was not a safe environment. The WCTU pressured the city to house women and children away from the male prisoners. And the organization wanted the city to hire a matron to protect and serve the female prisoners.

In 1888 the WCTU was successful in convincing the city to hire its first jail matron, and Sadie Likens got the job. Her duties were varied — looking after female prisoners, tending lost children, and questioning female witnesses. She was on call day and night to respond to the needs of the city jail. She tended sick and dying prisoners at all hours. Her job also required her to pre vent crime and protect women and girls, which compelled her to enter dance halls, theaters, and houses of prostitution.

Some of Sadie's duties were frivolous and naturally fell to women working with men at the time. The unwritten rules stated that female employees cooked and served at the pleasure of the male officers. At the July Fourth celebration in 1891, Sadie, "a most genial of women," reportedly prepared an "elegant cold lunch" for the male officers. At the holiday season in 1895 Sadie was in charge of decorating the courtrooms with "American flags and evergreens." At the Christmas party she served "delicacies ... for the pleasure of the boys in blue." However, Sadie was usually involved with much more serious obligations as Denver's police matron, such as overseeing custody of "two of the most notorious criminals ever captured in the West."

In 1892 Annie Watson (aka Queen of Shoplifters) and Tillie Williams engaged in "the most celebrated case of shoplifting in Denver." The case started when the two were arrested for stealing silk fabric from a store by concealing it under their clothing. Before the judge, they pleaded for leniency, as they had children at home who would suffer if they were detained. They were released, but not for long. A few days later police again arrested them for shoplifting. They were fined $25 and released. By this time authorities were suspicious of Tillie and Annie — suspecting they were entrenched in a grander burglary operation. Police obtained a search warrant for Tillie and Annie's house. As the police tried to gain entry Annie locked the door and began burning items in the stove — hoping to destroy evidence.

When the police got inside they discovered a treasure trove of goodies. The place was "stacked with stolen goods from cellar to attic." They discovered shipping receipts indicating big items had been stolen from local stores, sold, and shipped to cities across the country. This was no petty shoplifting scheme — it was a large-scale burglary ring. The women had been working in what police knew to be "the notorious Watson gang" consisting of the women, a man named Otto Reinche, and Jacob Watson (Tillie's husband).

It's unclear whether Sadie participated in the actual apprehension and investigation of the female gang members; however, she certainly encountered Tillie and Annie when they were taken into custody. While they were held in the jail where Sadie tended them, Tillie, Annie, and their children contracted scarlet fever. When it became apparent they needed hospitalization, the two saw the opportunity to make a getaway. As police were attempting to move them, Annie attacked Sadie, and Tillie tried to get Sadie's keys. A newspaper reported it took four men to subdue the two and place them back in their cells.

During the five years that Sadie served as matron, she was an extremely popular figure in Denver. Her "great and noble work" was well known around the city. And it was generally believed that "nobody could be found who could fill her place." At least that's what many of the citizens and Sadie's large circle of influential friends believed. But there were others who wanted to oust Sadie from her job for political reasons.

The city's police department was under the jurisdiction of a board comprised of men who Colorado governor Davis Waite appointed. The governor, who was a member of the Populist Party, wanted to ensure that people working in the police department were Populists as well, so he began to make that happen in May 1894.

Suddenly Sadie, who refused to declare allegiance to any political party, learned she was about to get two new employees in her department. One of the new employees, Kate Dwyer, happened to be a well-known Populist. Dwyer would be sharing Sadie's responsibilities as a co-matron. The second new employee would fill the role of assistant matron. Sadie was surprised that the police department could suddenly support three matrons!

For a couple of months Sadie continued to work with the two new employees, although she was unhappy about the situation. Then the board announced that to save money one of the matrons must go — and it was Sadie who would be terminated! Although the governor-appointed board initially said the reason was one of economy, others — including Kate Dwyer — began to circulate stories about Sadie's moral character.

Before Sadie had been fired, a friend — Ellen Harnett — placed an advertisement seeking work as a housekeeper in the Rocky Mountain News. Because Harnett did not have a permanent mailing address, she arranged to have responses sent to "Police Matron Likens at city hall." A man named Jesse Parr responded to the ad — sending it to the matron's office and addressing the letter to "Matron Likens."

When it arrived Sadie never saw the letter in which Parr admitted that he was tired of living alone in boardinghouses and provided a physical description of himself — "blue eyes, dark hair, smooth shaven face ... a good friend to the right woman." Kate Dwyer got to it first, taking it to the police chief, the president of the police board, and eventually Governor Waite. Dwyer led the three men to believe that it was an indecent proposal from Parr to Sadie — and that Sadie had invited it. If it was true, it was certainly behavior unbecoming a police matron. But because it was likely these individuals were looking for any excuse to blemish Sadie's character, they never gave her the opportunity to explain.

When Sadie learned about the Parr letter, she decided she had to bring charges in order to save her reputation. "I would hardly have mixed myself up with the subject of this letter but for the persistent manner in which friends kept telling me of a certain letter ... reflecting on my personal character," Sadie told a reporter. Kate Dwyer, police board president Dennis Mullins, police chief Hamilton Armstrong, and governor Davis Waite were charged with interfering with the mail. They were taken into custody and accused of being part of a conspiracy.

The governor was reportedly "boiling with indignation" as he was "escorted" to the courthouse for arraignment. The charges were read: "did conspire together to commit an offense against the United States ... did unlawfully take a letter addressed ... to Matron Likens ... to obstruct the correspondence ... and pry into the business and secrets of Mrs. Likens ... and did embezzle the same."

But before the week was up the charges against Governor Waite were dropped. No one could prove that he had actually seen Parr's letter. Within a very short time the conspiracy charges against all involved were dropped when prosecutors determined there was not enough evidence. But the public created such an uproar that Sadie was reinstated as matron when the Populist Party lost in the next elections.

Sadie eventually resigned from her matron position to become superintendent of the State Home and Industrial School for Girls. Throughout the rest of her career she headed up a variety of social agencies in Denver while also raising her four children. In addition to helping needy women and children, she worked on behalf of Civil War and World War I veterans. She died in 1920. A monument honoring her stands near the Colorado state capitol.

The actions of a desolate dance hall girl — whose name has long been forgotten — went unnoticed by many in an unforgiving and intolerant society in 1880s Colorado. But the women of the WCTU took notice and were moved to help other defenseless young women. They supported social agencies that gave refuge to homeless and abused women and children. They put pressure on the city police department to hire a matron to protect women and children who entered the jail system. The nameless dance hall girl who faced utter despair inspired others to offer comfort and hope. Sadie Likens was one of those who noticed and took action.

ALETHA GILBERT

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City Mother

TEENAGE GIRLS IN Los Angeles in 1915 who attended wild parties in "immoral places," danced the highly "suggestive" shimmy or bunny hop in dance halls, or lost their inhibitions through the consumption of liquor ran the risk of running into their mother. Not their real mother — the "city mother," Aletha Gilbert.

The City Mother's Bureau was only a year old, having been established at the suggestion of Aletha Gilbert, a policewoman from the juvenile bureau of the Los Angeles Police Department. She planned to intervene in cases where "wayward boys and girls" were in danger of engaging in more serious acts that would land them in the courts.

With an annual budget of $400, Aletha headed up the new bureau. A group of 11 prominent women in the Los Angeles area — wealthy society ladies and social workers — aided her. They were sometimes referred to as the Golden Rule Squad but usually simply as the City Mother's Bureau. The committee members served on a volunteer basis and were primarily in an advisory role, although they did have police badges. Aletha was the only city mother earning a salary.

"Keeping children out of court will be our endeavor," Aletha explained. Both boys and girls were brought to the offices of the city mother, where she gave them a "good talking to in a motherly way." As the city's youths showed up at Aletha's doorstep, she investigated their home situations; and where these were found to be "defective," she counseled parents.

The bureau offices were located in an old school building far removed from the regular police headquarters to prevent youths intermingling with hardened criminals. In addition, the new bureau kept client cases confidential and out of the press whenever possible.

While the bureau helped both boys and girls, there was an emphasis on helping girls and women. Some cases involved unmanageable girls whose desperate mothers brought them to the bureau. Other times girls came to the city mother from abusive homes or from situations where the mother and daughter simply couldn't get along.

"While I talk to many girls who have become unmanageable and are in danger from the evils of the city, I also have to advise unwise mothers," Aletha said.

Aletha's life in police work began long before she convinced her chief of police to set up the new bureau. She joined the Los Angeles Police Department in 1902 as an assistant to her mother, Lucy Thompson Gray, the city's first police matron (hired in 1888). When Lucy died in 1904, Aletha stepped into her position.

By that time Aletha was a single mother of a daughter. There are different versions of her status. She was either a divorcée or a widow. Historian and author Janis Appier found evidence of a marriage at age 16 and a divorce at 27; however, Aletha referred to herself as a widow.

As matron, Aletha worked 12-hour shifts caring for all the female prisoners who entered police custody. There were always at least a few women in the city's jails. Some were serving sentences; others were awaiting trial. The matron was responsible for the safety and health of the prisoners. Aletha looked after the meals for the female inmates, took them to the hospital when they were seriously ill, and directed their work while in jail. She tried to "lighten their burden of sorrow" by bringing them books and decorative needlework to keep them in a "cheerful frame of mind." All these duties earned Aletha a $75-per-month salary.

Aletha's years as police matron gave her insight into the justice system as it applied to female prisoners. She became an advocate for the women she saw pass through her jail. One area of concern was the lack of educational opportunities the women faced. And she decided to do something about it.

"If we can teach one woman in 10 something that will help to make her life easier and better when she leaves it will be sufficient," Aletha asserted in the spring of 1910 as she talked about the school she was starting for the 20 women who were incarcerated in the Los Angeles jail. For many it was the first time in their lives they would attend school. The curriculum consisted of domestic science — cooking, sewing, housekeeping — and even a training school for nurses.

Aletha also blamed women's low wages and lack of work skills as reasons for many turning to crime. "About two-thirds [of the women in the jails] found they could not make enough money to live honestly. They lost heart and began to slip. It is sad, but this is the best place most of them have to go."

She put the female inmates to work preparing their own food, doing laundry and ironing for themselves and the jail staff, and mending linens. "To shut women up without an effort to make them better is useless and cruel," Aletha said.

Whenever the Los Angeles police had to deal with children, they assigned Aletha to the case. So in the fall of 1910 it was not surprising to see the matron in court testifying in a child custody case that would decide the fate of a seven-month-old baby who had been taken in by a couple hoping to adopt him. When Aletha entered the case, the only thing she knew with certainty was that someone would end up with a broken heart.

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Excerpted from Women in Blue by Cheryl Mullenbach. Copyright © 2016 Cheryl Mullenbach. Excerpted by permission of Chicago Review Press Incorporated.
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