A Three Dollar Piece

Butte, Montana August, 29, 1942

    Liz puts the diary away and surveys the room. The room is quite small(seven foot wide by fifteen feet long), just wide enough for a small bed. There is only one door, and a window that looks out into a dusty, dimly lit red-brick alleyway-- Venus Alley. There is a small gas stove for heat, and on the west wall, near the bed, is a small white porcelain sink. Near the window but close to the stove sits a tired old wooden chair. A rusty old smoking stand rounds out the decor of Liz’s new work place.

   A trail is worn into the brightly colored floral linoleum. The wear marks on the floor tell the story of what has been taking place in this crib since 1914. The trail starts at the window where the girls stand, waiting for the men to come down the alley. Then the trail goes to the door where they greet the men. From the door the trail goes to the stove where they stand and negotiate a price for services to be rendered. From the stove the trail goes to the sink, which is lower than a normal sink(because it is not for washing your hands)! From the sink the trail goes to the bed where services are rendered.

   Gazing into the small mirror that hangs on the wall above the sink, Liz hardly recognizes herself. Her strawberry blonde hair is done in flowing waves like that of Lana Turner. The rouge on her cheeks glow like the embers of a campfire, while her lips are ablaze in heavy layers of crimson red. As she unfastens the top three buttons of her red blouse, her firm round breasts form an exciting valley between two round hills of tempting flesh.

   Contemplating this unusual sight in the mirror, Liz wonders what her mother back in Wisconsin would think. She grins as the thought crosses her mind. The spiteful BITCH she thinks. Suddenly, Liz hears voices coming from the end of the alley.

    A shiver, part fear part excitement, erupts through Liz’s body like the shockwave of a bomb blast. Elizabeth Meyers is about to become a prostitute, one of the “GIRLS” of VENUS ALLEY!

   Elizabeth Meyers, her friends all called her Liz, was born in a small town in Wisconsin. Her parents had moved there from the city of New York before she was born. Franklin Meyers, a quite unassuming man, had been a bookkeeper for the local Railroad Company, but soon saved enough money to buy a small dairy farm where Liz and her younger brother, Fritz, were raised by their harsh puritanical German mother.

   Liz’s only friend was a girl she had met in school, Elinore Campbell, who had pull with the “Landlady” and it kept Liz from working out of the basement cribs, which is where a new girl usually starts.

   Elinore was the most beautiful girl Liz had ever seen. Her long black curly hair and emerald green eyes made all the boys weak in the knees. Her smile could melt the coldest of hearts, except for her alcoholic father, who use to beat her with a razor strap, sometimes for no reason at all. Her mother had died giving birth to Elinore and her father had always blamed her for his wife’s death.

   Elinore, not able to take another beating and other abuse inflicted by her father, ran away from home, eventually arriving at the mining town of Butte, Montana. She wrote Liz every week telling her about the exciting opportunities she had found. Beautiful clothes, money to spend, jewels and “men” topping her list.

    For five years, Liz read and reread Elinore’s letters and dreamed of making her own fortune in that far off magical city of Butte. She saved every nickel and dime that fell into her hands. Finally, she was able to buy a one- way ticket and with suitcase in hand, headed west towards the town of Butte, Montana and her new life. He only regret was leaving behind her beloved younger brother, Fritz.

   On the trip west, Liz sat next to an old polish woman who was going to Seattle to see her son, who was a fish cannery operator there. The old woman’s blue eyes were full of life, unlike that of her mother’s dull, lifeless eyes which were usually filled with hate and despair. The old woman’s wrinkled was filled with excitement of the trip, her gray hair pulled tight to the back of her head in a bun.

   Liz closed her eyes and fell asleep. When she awoke, she found that the train had pulled into a small town just east of the Montana/North Dakota border. She gazed out of the sooty train window at the desolation of the area; nothing green grew around the depot, just a few scraggly pieces of tough, brown grass.

    Nothing, Liz thought to herself, could live in a hellhole like this. As Liz dosed off the train started to move again. The next stop had been Billings, Montana. From there the scenery changed from a flat desolate, seemingly lifeless plain with a few trees, to rugged, tree-filled hills and mountains. As the train approached Butte, Liz’s mind grew more imaginative about the people and scenes of the town. As the train pulled over the mountain, Liz could see the lights of Butte below. Like sapphires on a black velvet cloth she thought to herself. The train pulled into a large brick station. Its clock was striking midnight. Liz stepped out onto the hustling main street of Butte.

   Even at that hour, the street was crowded with people. A smell like that of stale whiskey, old cigars, sweaty bodies and mud drifted through the scene. The hills were crowded with tall, black head frames, where the miners were lowered deep into the bowels of the earth, to bring the precious copper to the surface.

   “Lizzy, over here!”, a voice yelled over the racket of the crowed.

   Liz saw it was Elinore, looking beautiful in a tight, sleek red dress. After a brief tour of the city, the two friends head towards The Creamery Cafe. A couple of the male patrons cast knowing glances towards Elinore, and one or two women laughed harshly, as the two woman sat down at the long counter.

   “Mary, give us a couple of coffees. How are Al and your two kids doing?”, Elinore asked the waitress.

   “They’re all fine except for the other day Sonny tied sheets together and he and Shirl climbed out the window of the hotel. I’ll sure be glad when we get our own place, especially with the new baby coming”, Mary replied pouring two cups of hot coffee.

   “YOU STINKING WHORE! Bringing your friends into a fine establishment like this!”, a short heavy-set woman sitting at one end of the corner tables yelled, her eyes flashing with hate.

   “Fran, you just shut your mouth and get out of here, youse don’t order nothin’ anyways!”, Mary yelled from behind the counter to the table, where the scowling woman was now standing and getting ready to leave. Fran mumbled something in Italian and walked out the door.

   “What was that all about, Elinore?”, Liz asked taking a sip of the hot, black coffee.

   “Nothing, nothing at all.” Elinore responded.After drinking their coffee and eating a few doughnuts, the two walked down towards Elinore’s tiny but homey apartment on Hamilton Street. The living room was filled with pieces of furniture she had bought from Tony’s Used Furniture up on East Park Street. A large overstuffed chair sat in one corner and a brown couch with a flower design sat against the wall. A small stand and a few framed pictures completed the scene.

   “Why did that woman call you a whore at the cafe?”, Liz asked.

   “I guess because I work out of the red light district.” Elinore answered softly.

   Liz stared deeply into her friend’s face. Her eyes closed, almost as if in deep thought, Elinore stood and walked across the room, her eyes never leaving the hardwood floor. She sat down next to Liz.

   “I’m not embarrassed by what I am. I make more money than that woman at The Creamery Cafe probably ever will in her life.”

   “How much do you make?” Liz asked.

   Elinore smiled at the question-- the question that “decent” people never asked.“Some nights as much as twenty or twenty-five dollars.” Elinore answered.

   The amount floored Liz. Twenty dollars was more than she could make in a month back home. By the next day Elinore had landed Liz an alley crib.

   Liz was both nervous and excited. She could feel her stomach tying into knots as the thought of unknown men having their way with her(at a price of course). She paced the floor of her small crib waiting for her shift to begin.Elinore appears quietly at the door of the crib holding a bottle of cola, which she hands to Liz with a slight nod of her head. The coldness of the liquid feels good as it glides down Liz’s throat.

   “First night jitters?” Elinore asks.

   “Yeah, just slightly.”

   “That coke and morphine should calm you down in minutes.” Elinore laughingly says as she walks out the door and into the alley.

   Liz starts to feel the room spin as the drink takes hold of her brain. She stands and runs out of the room and onto the red-brick alley. Her mind races as she walks down the alley, women of all types looking at her with steel eyes that seem to pierce her very soul.

   A heavy haze hangs over the scene, somebody says that the Copper Hill Bar has burned to the ground. Liz stops and tries to catch her breath, somewhere a voice screams obscenities at her.

    Others stroll by and glare harshly towards her. Liz stumbles back to her crib, her mind reeling with visions of hell and demons dancing around madly. She stumbles through the door and enters the crib, collapsing on the small iron bed.

   As midnight approaches, the shrill mine whistle splits the night air telling all citizens of the twilight zone that soon the men will come.

   Donovan Olson, a tall blonde with a slim mustache, enters the hoist cage with the rest of the crew at the thirty-two hundred-foot level of the Belmont Mine. It’s a long ride to the surface and the boys are particularly tired and hungry tonight. They had worked in vain to save a life of their fellow miner John Sinner.

   John had drilled into a missed hole and the dynamite explosion had covered him with tons of rock and debris. The men had worked frantically most of the night to uncover John. When they had finally uncovered him, they realized he must have died instantly as most of his face was missing. The sight of the mangled corpse had brought about a violent reaction in Donovan. He started to cry, and then threw up the contents of his stomach.

   It was payday, and after showering and putting on clean clothes at the mine’s dry room, they all headed to the Crown Bar on Park Street to cash their paychecks and hoist a few.

   Donovan’s stomach is still unsettled but after a couple of boilermakers, he starts feeling well enough to eat some pickled hard-boiled eggs and beef jerky.

   Several of the other miners started joshing Donovan about him still being a virgin. After a few more rounds, Donovan decides this will be the night. He heads towards Venus Alley and the other miners trail along behind him. They had heard there was a new good looking “girl” in crib 43 behind the Dumas Brothel.

   As Donovan gets closer to crib 43, he sees Liz tapping the window, her vivid blue eyes seem to call out to him from the haze of the night. He is drawn to her. He will be her first customer. Her beauty momentarily paralyzes Donovan as his knees begin to weaken.

   “H-H-How m-much?” He stammers.

   “Uh uh, three dollars?” Liz manages to blurt out.

   “Ya-ya, shure, ya.” Donovan stammers again.

   As Donovan hands Liz the three dollars, she unhooks the final two buttons on her blouse and her young firm breasts jiggle free. Her soft brown nipples quickly grow hard in the cool night air. Almost as quickly, Donovan’s manhood begins to rise. Unsure of what to do next, he takes Liz in his arms and gently lays her down on the bed and lets the instincts of nature take over as the two of them make passionate love.

   Afterwards, Donovan leaves the crib, stops and rolls a cigarette. He realizes it had been the first time for the girl, too. As Liz is finishing up with her last customer, screams pierce the cold night air outside her window. Though thoroughly exhausted, Liz hurries out into the alley and sees a very large outraged woman  holding a knife. A man cowers behind a pole, trying to defend himself from the attack of his crazed jealously wife.

   “Honey please calm down.”, the man pleads from behind the pole.

   “I’ll calm down after I’m done slitting your worthless Bohunk throat!!” The woman screams in rage.

   The woman spots Liz from the corner of her eye and, turning swiftly, lunges at Liz, slashing her across the left shoulder. Elinore comes running down the alley, a small gun in her right hand. She fires it up into the air, scattering the crowed that has formed around the fight. The woman turns and runs screaming down the alley in the opposite direction of Elinore, throwing the knife away as she runs.

   “Are you alright?”, Elinore asks when she arrives at the crib door where Liz is slumped halfway in the doorway.

   “Just a cut. I’m fine!”, Liz stammers trying to stand up. She collapses into Elinore’s arms.

   “Somebody call an ambulance!” Elinore yells. Police whistles are heard in the distance, getting closer.

   Daylight starts to break. A gentle breeze blows away the remaining smoke from last night’s fire. A young newspaper boy from the Butte Daily Post yells out, “READ ALL ABOUT IT! READ ALL ABOUT IT! Woman stabbed during lovers’ fight!”