1894: LEXOW COMMITTEE
In 1894, the Lexow Committee investigated the New York Police in response to widespread allegations of misconduct and corruption. In this article, Michael R. D. Connolly examines contact between sex workers and the police in 1890s New York City through a case study of one woman, Hattie Ledyne.
Gendered State Violence and the Economy of Makeshifts: The Story of Hattie Ledyne
On October 19, 1894, Hattie Ledyne, a Black sex worker living in New York City, was called to testify after being subpoenaed by the state senate committee appointed to investigate the city’s police department, colloquially known as the Lexow Committee. “Tell us how many times you have been arrested altogether?” the Committee’s lead counsel, John Goff, asked. “One hundred and two times,” Ledyne answered. “Within what period of time have you been arrested for 102 times?” he asked. “Two years and a half,” she replied. [1]
New York City saw an increase in state violence towards sex workers in the early 1890s primarily as a result of one man’s crusade; Rev. Dr. Charles H. Parkhurst. Parkhurst wanted to target corruption within the Police Department, but in order to attack police corruption, Parkhurst and his Society for the Prevention of Crime (SPC) focused their efforts on closing down disorderly houses (particularly brothels and houses of assignation) because, as Parkhurst worded it, “that was the easiest means by which police indifference to blatant crime in this city could be brought to light.” [2] Committed with a moral righteousness and without any real understanding of sex work, Parkhurst’s crusade made life more difficult for sex workers like Hattie Ledyne, forcing her out of the safety of a brothel into the street where she met with police more frequently. Ledyne’s story offers a glimpse into the ability of sex workers to improvise within the economy of makeshifts and adapt to new and evolving societal constraints, such as increased policing, forceful eviction, and gendered state violence.
Historian Olwen H. Hufton’s model of the economy of makeshifts–impoverished people’s ablity to stave off starvation by finding ad hoc avenues of revenue–has occupied many scholars of sex work in recent years. For example, Katie M. Hemphill’s Bawdy City explains how some Black sex workers thrived in the economy of makeshifts in Baltimore in the early nineteenth-century. However, she also concurs with Judith Walkowitz that scholars must look beyond just survival, so as not to remove agency from sex workers who chose and thrived in the world of prostitution. [3] Hattie Ledyne’s story shows how one sex worker was able to navigate the economy of makeshifts and adapt to new challenges in order to survive and thrive in an urban space while state and non-state actors actively tried to suppress her.
Two and a half years prior to Ledyne’s testimony, Parkhurst began his crusade against police corruption and immorality. From his pulpit at the Madison Square Presbyterian Church, Parkhurst decried New York City’s police and Tammany Hall controlled administration as a “damnable pack of […] bloodhounds that are fattening themselves on the ethical flesh and blood of our citizenship.” He believed that the good Christian men and women of New York had to revolt against an administration whose policies “protect, foster, and propagate” alcoholism and prostitution. Although the police department denied Parkhurst’s accusations, they closed (most only temporarily) numerous disorderly houses following Parkhurst’s 1892 sermon. One of which was likely the bathhouse Ledyne called home for five and a half years at 223 Greene Street. [4]
The NYPD were routinely mocked in the wake of the investigations for shocking levels of corruption it exposed. Harper's Weekly, September 6, 1902
Forced into the streets, Ledyne had to change how she sold her services. In the bathhouse, Ledyne paid the madame twenty-one dollars a week for board and police protection, but in the street Ledyne had to interact directly with officers. [5] “Cruisers” (sex workers who made their living on the street) had to pay every cop on the beat between fifty cents and a dollar in order to work uninterrupted. Both the police and cruisers had to adapt their methods from working inside disorderly houses to outside. Police officers created a system where they could continue to benefit if forced to shut down a disorderly house by their leadership or the SPC. Although cruisers did not have to share their income with madams, the burden of police protection increased as they could not count on a madam to negotiate a flat rate. Although Ledyne said she chose to pay for police protection, she also stated that it was considered “a general rule” among cruisers that they had to pay. The choice to pay police protection shows a constrained agency for these sex workers. Police protection likely made cruising easier, but it could be a heavy burden depending on the number of officers on the beat and how often police insisted sex workers pay. Not paying protection resulted in more frequent arrests and despite paying regularly, police still arrested Ledyne, on average, over three times a month for two and a half years. Therefore, choosing not to pay protection could be even costlier as most arrests for soliciting required the payment of a $15 bribe or fine (neither Ledyne nor the Committee were certain) to the court clerk or a sentence of one month in jail. [6]
Money, however, was not the only way to receive police protection according to Ledyne. Before and after being forced into the street, Ledyne had several run-ins with an officer named Churchill. At around Christmas time one unspecified year, Ledyne stated that she got into a physical altercation with Churchill after she refused to commit a sexual act that neither she nor the Committee would name. Churchill proceeded to beat Ledyne, although she said she “digged him pretty well too.” Subsequently, Ledyne complained to a police inspector regarding Churchill’s actions and was induced by other police officers to “make up” with Churchill; a deal that included a payment of $35 to Ledyne and four months of police protection. [7] Hattie Ledyne endured police brutality and sexual violence by a member of New York’s finest while living and working as a sex worker following the forced closure of her brothel instigated by Parkhurst’s campaign. Her experiences show how one sex worker navigated and challenged her circumstances; protesting and negotiating payment and protection. Ledyne likely knew that the police would act to protect one of their own, despite his odious actions, and she used this to her advantage. As Ledyne had few, if any, avenues for judicial justice, she found her own solution where she could benefit financially. For a period where the police arrested her almost weekly, four months without having to pay protection or bribes could have amounted to as much as $255 (or approximately $8,550 in 2023) in savings (if she did not have to pay a $15 fine every week for seventeen weeks), and coupled with a sense of invincibility from the law, Ledyne could have had an unprecedentedly successful four months.
Improvisational skills and a clear understanding of their role in the economy of makeshifts allowed sex workers like Ledyne to thrive in the industry. Despite frequent challenges like the SPC and police brutality, sex workers adapted to ensure their livelihoods were either unharmed or only temporarily altered.
[1] New York State Legislature, Report and Proceedings of the Senate Committee Appointed to Investigate the Police Department of the City of New York (Albany: New York State Legislature, 1895), 4: 3624.
[2] Charles H. Parkhurst, Our Fight with Tammany (New York: Charles Scribner, 1895), 154-155.
[3] Olwen H. Hufton, The Poor of Eighteenth-Century France 1750-1789 (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1974), 15-16; Katie M. Hemphill, Bawdy City: Commercial Sex and Regulation in Baltimore, 1790-1915 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2020), 13; Judith R. Walkowitz, “The Politics of Prostitution and Sexual Labour,” History Workshop Journal 82 no. 1 (Autumn 2016): 192.
[4] New York State Legislature, Report and Proceedings, 4: 3625.
[5] New York State Legislature, Report and Proceedings, 4: 3625, 3632.
[6] New York State Legislature, Report and Proceedings, 4: 3628-29; “Lexow Committee Drama,” The Sun, October 20, 1894.
[7] New York State Legislature, Report and Proceedings, 4: 3626-27.
Michael R. D. Connolly was born and raised in Calgary, Alberta, Canada and is currently pursuing his PhD at Loyola University Chicago, focusing on sexuality, policing, and politics during the Gilded Age and the Progressive Era. Connolly previously attended the University of Calgary and the University of Ottawa. Prior to entering the field of academia, Connolly was one of the first openly LGBTQ+ people elected to Alberta’s Legislative Assembly and served from 2015 to 2019.