When Two Cincinnati Madams Fought, A Sugar Daddy Got Caught In The Middle
Rodney Forest Ludlow was among the richest young men in Springfield, Ohio, in 1888. His father owned an iron foundry and arranged lucrative positions for each of his sons. Rodney, or āR.F.ā as he preferred, was 35, married with four children and socially connected.
Rodney visited Cincinnati regularly. Perhaps business brought him to the Queen City, but Bertha Wilson certainly had something to do with those visits, too. According to the Cincinnati Enquirer [9 December 1888]:
āShe had been a variety actress and came to Cincinnati from the West. She was a deep brunette, and was remarkable for having, with dark complexion and raven hair, a pair of deep blue eyes.ā
Rodney was smitten. He frequently visited the āmaison de joieā or brothel managed by Daisy Lawrence at 163 Broadway, right around the corner from the Wesley United Methodist Church on Fifth Street. That is where Bertha Wilson lived, for she was among what they called then the āfrail sisterhoodā and that is where she entertained customers. Rodney showered Bertha with gifts and cash. She, in turn, delighted Rodney with her charms.
Although Bertha certainly appreciated the flowers, candy and jewelry Rodney bestowed on her, she had larger ambitions. She knew that a madam like Daisy Lawrence brought in a lot more profit than a working girl such as herself. Bertha told Rodney she wanted to run her own āhouse.ā An opportunity soon presented itself.
Word got around that Lizzie Barrett, madam of a āresortā at 191 George Street out in the West End, was tired of the business and hoped to sell out and retire. Lizzie Barrett was not just any Madam. She was known in Cincinnati as "The Empress" and she spoke French and German very well. On trips to Europe, she purchased exquisite etchings to hang in her establishment. In fact, she loved France so much, she wished to move there for the rest of her days.
Bertha, on learning Lizzie Barrettās house was on the market, convinced Rodney to loan her the down payment. Madam Barrett wanted $7,000, and Bertha, backed by Rodney, agreed to that price. One could buy a lot for $7,000 in 1888. The Cincinnati Enquirer describes the Barrett house as "a fashionable establishment . . . which was furnished with all the taste and elegance of an Egyptian harem," and they meant that as a compliment.
"The house was really oriental in its appointments. Rich bric-a-brac from across the waters, paintings, etchings, engravings, tableware, tapestries, curtains, laces, velvety cushions, and every thing that could make a house lovely were provided."
Bertha and her beau signed on the dotted line. Rodney endorsed three notes for $500 each, to be paid in equal monthly installments. Bertha signed her note for the balance, to be paid out at $100 each month, on top of $75 monthly rent.
Lizzie Barrett did retire to France, where she bought a villa near Paris. She was peacefully enjoying a comfortable life there when her lawyers sent a distressing cablegram. Not only had Bertha Wilson stopped paying her debt, she had absconded with all the furnishings.
Madam Barrett rushed back from Paris and found a desolately empty building at 191 George. She discovered that Bertha had moved all the contents of the bawdy house to another building at 47 Carlyle. Madam Barrett arrived there and, armed with a writ and had her purloined possessions packed up into 13 moving wagons. This convoy rumbled down Vine Street toward the Suspension Bridge. It looked as though Lizzie planned to store it all somewhere in Kentucky. The parade was halted after a few blocks however when a constable appeared with another writ claiming that Lizzieās stuff, sold to Bertha, actually belonged to a traveling salesman named Julius C. Miller. It looks like Bertha used all of Lizzieās decor as collateral on a loan she neglected to redeem.
No one seemed to know where Bertha Wilson was. Everybody, however, knew exactly where Mr. R.F. Ludlow, of the Springfield Malleable Iron Manufactory, was located. Madam Barrett announced loudly and publicly that she intended to sue Rodney in addition to Bertha.
Rodney expressed shock, shock! at being sued. He may have endorsed some notes for a poor woman he knew only as a school teacher, he said, but knew nothing about whorehouses or madams. He told the Enquirer:
"I deny the whole story except that I know the Wilson woman. I knew her as everybody in Springfield did when she taught school here and that is all. If I had indorsed notes for her as has been stated I should certainly have been good for the amount as I think I am resigned to it. I have not been in Cincinnati since October 1887. I can only account for the story by supposing the Wilson woman told such a story to the Barrett woman in order to deceive her."
Rodney's friends in Springfield rushed to his defense and claimed that he was the victim of a series of lies made up out of whole cloth by Bertha Wilson. Rodney seems to have escaped this particular lawsuit, but rather abruptly moved his family from Springfield to Philadelphia. The Enquirer sympathized with Lizzie Barrett, who appears to have lost everything in the deal.
"It seems almost incredible in a community like this that a woman has not been able to get justice with the Courts constantly in motion."
It is unclear whether Bertha ever settled things with Lizzie Barrett, but she soon reemerged among Cincinnatiās demimonde. Bertha first reappeared as an āassociateā at Cora Bennetās bordello on Broadway, until she absconded with $60 worth of dresses owned by the madam. By the mid-1890s, Bertha was running her own place on George Street, almost directly across that infamous boulevard from Lizzie Barrettās establishment. While managing that house, she stiffed the iceman, who confiscated a wall clock until Bertha made good on the bill. For a time, Bertha was married to a saloonkeeper named William Lotz, but it didnāt last. Throughout most of her marriage, Bertha shared an upstairs room at her bordello with a lightweight boxer named Frankie McHugh. She had to haul her paramour into court because he regularly stole from her.
Whether Lizzie Barrett ever received justice is unrecorded in the newspapers of the day, but she eventually resumed her old line of work. An 1894 report has her, still holding court at 191 George Street, suing the estate of a profligate client. She died, aged 70, in 1910. Her will suggests that she had retired to a house on Ninth Street and rented out her George Street properties to younger madams. Based on the will, Madam Barrett had done quite well for herself.
