The Cost of a Working Woman's Morality by Cheryl Rae Johnson

 

What do you do when an influx of single working women arrive in your city without the protection of family?

This was the moral dilemma facing the good people of New York City in 1860. The Ladies Christian Union was especially troubled by this crisis of a new working class of females whom the LCU deemed at risk of losing their moral integrity. The Ladies took it upon themselves to provide Moral Homes for these working women in order to preserve their “purity, dignity, and femininity” and prepare these young women for marriage and motherhood.

The wealthy women who comprised the Ladies Christian Union set the standard by obtaining middle-class homes with a kitchen, parlor, dining room, and a large number of bedrooms to accommodate as many ladies as possible to board. The housemother would refer to the ladies as her “daughters” to give the living space that feeling of home. Servants were also employed so that the ladies did not do their own cooking, laundry, or cleaning, other than their bedroom.

Modern Day View of the first Ladies Christian Union Morality Home
(Wikimedia Commons)

On the surface this sounds wonderful, but whether these morality homes embodied a true sense of home might be up for debate. Strict standards had to be met in order for a lady to be approved for residence. Aside from gainful employment, the lady must provide references to vouch for her moral character. Women had to attend church on Sundays and participate in morning and evening devotions.

But it was the cost that was most daunting. In exchange for rent, which ranged from $3.50-$6.00 per week, they received two meals a day. And laundry services, which were not optional, cost anywhere from fifty cents to a dollar more, depending on the type of garment being washed. 

The women who stayed at these homes worked in factories, the fashionable shops on Ladies’ Mile, or in shops employed as seamstresses. The cost of rent and laundry would have consumed their entire wages. That leaves us wondering why they would pay such a price if it left little money in their reticules. 

Unlike today’s modern woman, gaining some modicum of independence from her family was often enough. Most of these ladies' families could not support feeding its offspring into adulthood. Leaving home meant doing her family a good turn, allowing them to put more money in their pocket. Ladies did not look at these homes as a permanent residence but as the next stop before marriage.

Fifty years after the opening of the first home, women worked in more professional careers with jobs as typists, teachers, artists, and writers. The five morality homes still operated by the Ladies Christian Union could not house the now estimated over fifty thousand working women.

  

YWCA Parlor
(Byron Company Collection, Museum of the City of NY)

YWCA Single Bedroom
(Byron Company Collection, Musuem of the City of NY)

The solution to this problem was the YWCA, which was built with the support of donors such as Margaret Louisa Vanderbilt. For this reason, this home was also known as the Margaret Louisa.

Others caught on to this need as well and built hotels for working women, but, unlike the YWCA, these hotels loosened the rein on morality, giving women the same freedom as men. The Hotel Martha Washington housed five hundred business women. The hotel itself was run by women, and much of the stock was even owned by women, a novel idea in the early 1900s. Two more hotels followed, the Trowmart Inn and the Barbizon Hotel for Women, each of which could house hundreds. 

Trowmart Inn Lobby
(Byron Company Collection, Musuem of the City of NY)

I first learned of these morality homes when I was researching one of my historical romance novels, Dear Miss Keefe. My heroine, Mary Elizabeth Keefe, was a seamstress who found herself alone in New York City after the death of her grandmother. Allowing her to live in a morality home provided wonderful details for my novel, with the endless drama of so many girls staying under the same roof. Although I did not use the term Ladies Christian Union, I included one woman who would have belonged to such an organization. This lady encourages Mary Elizabeth to take up a letter-writing campaign with her very eligible cousin in Chattanooga, Tennessee. Thus, an epistolary romance begins and becomes the backdrop for the book.

After a discussion of the rich history and resilience of New York City on September 11, it would be remiss not to remember those who lost their lives in the Twin Towers twenty-five years ago today and to thank all the brave men and women who serve everywhere, whether it be through the police forces, as a firefighter, or in one of the armed services.

Source:  Harkrader, Nina E. “All the Single Ladies: Women Only Buildings in the Early 20^th C. NYC.” The Gotham Center for New York City History. May 9, 2019.   https://www.gothamcenter.org/blog/all-the-single-ladies-women-only-buildings-in-early-20th-c-nyc

Cheryl Rae Johnson writes historical romance novels set in the American South. She has made her home in all corners of the US but is now settled on the eastern edge of Texas, where she teaches writing and literature at her local university as well as ministers alongside her husband of over forty years in her local church. She can often be found drinking coffee and hanging out with her ever-growing brood of grandchildren. She loves to connect with her readers. You can join her here:

Cheryl Rae Johnson Website

Amazon Author Page

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The Business End of the Cattle Drive

By Suzanne Norquist

Nothing represents the quintessential Old West like a cattle drive. Movies and books depict the adventure, from Red River starring John Wayne to City Slickers starring Billy Crystal. There are still ranches that allow guests to pay for the privilege of driving cattle from one property to another.

However, the famous cattle drives that originated in Texas in the 1860s, 1870s, and 1880s didn’t result from dreams of excitement. They were a profitable business venture.

For centuries, herdsmen have driven animals to relocate them. They still do. But none compare to the cattle drives of that era.

A twelve-man crew would move a herd of 2,000 to 3,000 head of cattle across hundreds of miles of wilderness to sell it for a premium price. The trip took several months.

What made this venture possible?

After the Civil War, Texans were long on cattle and short on cash. Herds thrived while the ranchers served in the Confederate army. And the soldiers’ pay wasn’t worth the paper it was printed on. The cattle could be sold at a premium in northern markets. Not only that, but sturdy Texas longhorns could survive the long journey better than other types of cattle.

The land along the route hadn’t been divided up and fenced off yet. Anyone could use the open range. Railroads didn’t crisscross the country yet to offer an alternative form of transportation—the perfect environment for driving cattle.

A few business-minded cattlemen realized that moving a large herd to a high-priced market would increase their profit. No need to make the trip with only a few animals. They would contract with different ranches to transport thousands of head of cattle and put together crews that included a trail boss, a wrangler, drovers, waddies (teenaged trail hands), and a chuckwagon cook.

The wrangler managed the horses, eight to ten per drover. Drovers were divided into point riders who took the lead, swing riders in the middle, and drag riders in the rear. The chuckwagon cook not only prepared food, but also served as the doctor and dentist, offering herbal remedies as needed.

Teams followed one of several major trails. The most famous were the Chisholm Trail and the Goodnight-Lovington Trail. The Chisholm Trail started in San Antonio, Texas, and passed through Oklahoma and into Kansas. The Goodnight-Lovington Trail went from Texas to Colorado and Wyoming by way of New Mexico.

Business owners in the “cow towns” at the end of the route profited as well. They offered supplies, alcohol, and other amenities to weary crews.

The cattle drives proved successful. There were the occasional Indian attacks, cattle rustlers, swollen rivers, and stampedes, but most survived the journey. Newspapers reported their progress in the business section, including the number of head and the expected arrival date.

A problem arose when other cattle along the route contracted a disease known as “Texas fever.” This tick-borne illness didn’t bother the tough longhorns. But the ticks would drop off along the way and infect other cattle. Soon, quarantines were imposed on Texas herds. Local cattlemen formed mobs to keep them out.

To solve this problem, cattle buyer Joseph McCoy established a marketplace in the grasslands near Abilene, Kansas. No other cattle would be infected. He persuaded the Kansas Pacific Railroad to provide sidings and facilities. This established Abilene as a premier cow town. He convinced people that if the cattle “wintered” in Abilene, they no longer carried the tick.

The intercontinental railroads and a weak economy ended the twenty-year era of large cattle drives. Cattlemen no longer profited from the endeavor. The open range gave way to fenced farms and ranches.

All that remained was the lore of the cowboy pushing “doggies” up the Chisholm Trail. Hollywood glamorized it, and everyone believed the trail boss ran the show. It’s a far more interesting story than that of profit and loss.

 

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Love In Bloom 4-in-one collection

“A Song for Rose” by Suzanne Norquist

Can a disillusioned tenor convince an aspiring soprano that there is more to music than fame?

“Holly & Ivy” by Mary Davis

At Christmastime, a young woman accompanies her impetuous younger sister on her trip across the country to be a mail-order bride and loses her heart to a gallant stranger.

“Periwinkle in the Park” by Kathleen E. Kovach

A female hiking guide, who is helping to commission a national park, runs into conflict with a mountain man determined to keep the government off his land.

“A Beauty in a Tansy”

Two adjacent store owners are drawn to each other, but their older relatives provide obstacles to their ever becoming close.

Republished from Bouquet of Brides

Buy links: https://books2read.com/u/bOOx8K

https://www.amazon.com/Love-Bloom-Mary-Davis/dp/B0FPLFYCXR/

 

 

Multi-published author Suzanne Norquist has worked as a chemist, professor, and financial analyst, and has even earned a doctorate in economics. Everything fascinates her. Research feeds her curiosity, and she shares the adventure with her readers. She lives in New Mexico with her mining-engineer husband and takes road trips to visit her children and grandchildren. When not writing, she hangs out with her two active Siberian Huskies, takes piano lessons, and studies the Bible with the church ladies.

Whisper in the Woods: Folklore of the Marsh

 —By Tiffany Amber Stockton

If you haven't snagged your FREE e-book copy of Magic of the Swan, my novella retelling of Swan Lake, join the FanTAStic Reader community and receive the book today.

September always feels like the right time of year for stories that live in the shadows. The air starts to shift, the days get shorter, and you're well on your way to the early autumn time that makes old tales feel a bit more alive.

And Chincoteague, it turns out, has plenty of old tales.

Strange Lights and Uneasy Spirits

Elisha Bloxom house

Back in May of 1890, a reporter for the New York Sun traveled to Chincoteague and wrote up what he found there. He was clearly charmed by the island and its people. And among everything he observed, he devoted an entire section of his article to what he simply called, "Ghosts and Charms."

He described a community that read meaning into everything around it. The wind sighing through the pines. Strange voices drifting in from the sea. Calls from across the meadows that couldn't quite be identified. And strange lights that danced above the stagnant water in the glades.

My great-grandfather lived there during that era. When you live on an isolated island with no books, no newspapers, and few neighbors, surrounded by marsh and open water, the supernatural tends to fill the space that other explanations can't reach.

The reporter also wrote about a specific haunted house. The home of a man named Elisha Bloxom, who had drowned in an accident at sea when a yawl capsized and struck him on the head. His neighbors suspected his mates could have saved him and didn't. The story claims old Elisha's soul couldn't rest. Sounds visited the house at night. The widow moved out. A family of newcomers who didn't know Elisha moved in ... and moved right back out before their lease was up. That was eight years before the reporter visited, and the house still stood empty, its reputation firmly intact.

What Fear Tells Us About Faith

The reporter noted something that I find quite profound. He wrote that when the preachers eventually came to Chincoteague with their prayers and sermons, the old islanders would attend, and listen, and believe, but they wouldn't be wholly comforted.

I mulled a bit on that and realize faith doesn't always arrive all at once or replace everything that came before it overnight. These were people in the middle of a transition between an older world of signs and spirits and conjurers, and a newer one shaped by Scripture and the church. The two coexisted for a long time on that island, just as they have in communities throughout history.

Folklore and superstition were never really about the supernatural. They were about the very human need to believe that the world has meaning, that suffering isn't random, that there is something to appeal to when your own hands aren't enough. First John 4:18 says that perfect love casts out fear. The Chincoteague residents of 1890 hadn't fully arrived there yet. But they were looking for the same thing faith offers: a reason to believe that the darkness around them wasn't the whole story.

The strange lights still dance above the glades in autumn. The pines still sigh when the wind comes in off the Atlantic. The island still holds its secrets. But the stories those things once generated say more about the hope for something bigger than the actual subject of the story itself.

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* Have you ever heard a piece of local folklore that turned out to have a real emotional or historical lesson underneath it?

* Do you think superstition and faith can coexist in the same community, or even in the same person?

* Is there a place near where you grew up that has a spooky reputation, and do you know what gave rise to the stories?

Leave answers to these questions or any comments on the post below.

** This note is for our email readers. Please do not reply via email with any comments. View the blog online and scroll down to the comments section.

Come back on the 9th of each month for my next foray into historical tidbits to share.

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BIO

Tiffany Amber Stockton has embellished stories since childhood, thanks to a very active imagination and notations of talking entirely too much. Honing those skills led her to careers as an award-winning and best-selling author and speaker, while also working as a professional copywriter. Through her love of words, she encourages others to Get Rooted in truth and live a life of purpose.

Currently, she lives with her husband and fellow author, Stuart Vaughn Stockton, along with their two homeschooled teens, and five cats in southeastern Kentucky. In her 20+ years as a professional writer, she has sold twenty-six (26) books so far and has agent representation with Tamela Murray of the Steve Laube Agency. You can find her on Facebook and GoodReads. She also rebooted her longtime blog and is expanding her content creation to Instagram and Twitter, maybe even an audio podcast at some point.

Admiral Bertram Ramsay: Dunkirk Was Just the Beginning

by Martha Hutchens

Photo: Lt. C. J. Ware, Royal Navy official photographer.
Imperial War Museums collection
(public domain via Wikimedia Commons).

Last month I told you about a young British naval candidate who was quite unsure if he would ever make midshipman. He entered and left his schooling in the bottom half of his class. His name was Bertram Ramsay.

He did, in fact, enter the British Navy, served in the Dover Strait during WWI, and had a documented lack of tact as a young officer. But he grew and matured, eventually having a successful career in the Navy. Finally, he was put on the retired list in October of 1938 after having some issues with his commanding officer refusing to delegate. I suspect it was a bitter moment.

And then he was assigned to command the post at Dover if war should break out. Dover, which is directly across from Dunkirk. Following his belief in delegating, he sent men to Dunkirk to determine the best landing places. He was the force behind the evacuation at Dunkirk, saving over 330,000 men. But Ramsay was just getting started—in his official retirement, no less.

Cliffs of Dover, image by 4KClips, Deposit Photos

Ramsay spent the next couple of years preparing Dover for the anticipated invasion of England that never actually happens. Then, in 1941, the Japanese attacked Pearl Harbor and the US entered the war. The Allies decided to invade North Africa, except they realized no one had any experience landing large amounts of troops. But Ramsay carried 330,000 away from a beach. How different could it be?

Ramsay worked with Cunningham to plan the landing and learned to work with a large number of different people with different ideas. The landing was a success.

And now the Allies needed to invade Italy, starting with Sicily. Once again, Ramsay was chosen. (And if you’re wondering, yes, he was still officially on the retired list.) This time, he did more than plan the landing. He also led the Eastern Naval Task Force in the invasion. This is where Ramsay first displayed one of his superpowers. He knew how to listen.

Ramsay talked to the men who would be landing and to their commanders. He learned what the men needed when they first landed. In the first day. The first week. Then he planned how to get that material to them at the right time.

Ramsay did not continue with the troops into Italy proper. Instead, he was called back to London. At a party at the Dorchester, a military friend found him and whispered congratulations. Ramsay’s new assignment had been released.

He was named Allied Naval Commander-in-Chief, commanding the naval forces for D-Day.

From a purely blog-writer’s point of view, I’ve got to say that at this point in the story, I’m just shaking my head. This man commanded the evacuation of Dunkirk, the landing in North Africa, the invasion of Sicily, and now he is taking on D-Day? How have I never heard of him? And how am I going to get his entire story into one blog post? Which, of course, I didn’t.

In February of 1944, Ramsay was invited to 10 Downing Street for a dinner. After the dinner, Churchill told him that he had requested that Ramsay be removed from the retired list. I guess it was just a bridge too far to have the man in charge of the largest invasion in history be retired. In April of 1944, he was made a full Admiral.

D-Day Memorial, image by StockCube, DepositPhotos

On D-Day, Ramsay had 6,833 ships under his command. On the first day of the invasion, D-Day itself, navies under Ramsay’s command delivered 132,000 troops to the shore. Within three weeks, that number rose to 850,000. But that isn’t the entire story. You also have to land food, weapons, and vehicles. 148,000 vehicles and 570,000 tons of supplies. Ramsay’s skills at listening and delegating were surely stretched to their limits. And the numbers only went up from there.

I think the best example of who Ramsay was comes from the following anecdote. The night before D-Day, General Montgomery asked Ramsay what he planned to do. Ramsay replied, “The operation has begun. It is too late to stop it. There is wireless silence and we can expect no signals. I am therefore going to bed.” And from his diary, it seems he was actually able to sleep. The planning was done, and the actions weren’t quite ready. So he slept.

The numbers of men and supplies that had to be landed led to Ramsay’s next battle, this time with his own leadership. All these supplies were coming through the Normandy beaches and temporary harbors. Ramsay spent the second half of 1944 trying to convince the other generals that they needed a major port.

Of course, Germany knew this as well and sabotaged many of the possibilities as they withdrew. In September of 1944, the Allies took Antwerp, which was the second biggest port in Europe at that time. That sounds like just what they needed, except for one problem. Antwerp lies inland, connected to the North Sea by the Scheldt River, and the Germans still controlled the river’s approaches. But after two months, Ramsay finally convinced his superiors.

By November, the Germans were pushed back. Then it took three more weeks for 150 minesweepers to remove the mines from the river. Finally, Allied ships could reach Antwerp.

On December 31, 1944, Ramsay wrote to his wife, saying he wouldn’t be able to return home because he had a little more work to do to secure the port of Antwerp. On January 2, 1945, Ramsay entered the plane he had used to fly throughout Europe. But this time something went wrong. According to eyewitnesses, the plane couldn’t gain altitude and crashed, killing all on board.

At the beginning of this two-post series, I asked what kind of man rescued 338,000 men and that wasn’t even the highlight of his career. Now you know that commanding D-Day was, though I guess that is probably open to interpretation. But one of the ships under his command, the USS Texas, wrote its own name into history in this same engagement. Learn about its famous exploits here.

Best-selling author Martha Hutchens is a history nerd who loves nothing more than finding a new place and time to explore. She won the 2019 Golden Heart for Romance with Religious and Spiritual Elements. A former analytical chemist and retired homeschool mom, Martha occasionally finds time for knitting when writing projects allow.

Martha’s debut novel, A Steadfast Heart, is now available. You can learn more about her books and historical research at marthahutchens.com.

When his family legacy is on the line, rancher Drew McGraw becomes desperate for someone to tame and tutor his three children. Desperate enough to seek a mail-order bride. But when the wrong woman arrives on his doorstep, Drew balks.

Heiress Kaitlyn Montgomery runs straight from the scandal chasing her toward a fresh start on a secluded ranch. She strikes a bargain with Drew—a marriage convenient for both of them.

But the more Kaitlyn adapts to ranch life and forms a bond with Drew’s children and their enigmatic father, she realizes that this ranch is where she is meant to be. And then her past catches up with her…

Pretzels and Prayer

By Lynn U. Watson

Are you a connoisseur of big, fresh, chewy, Bavarian-style pretzels—the kind you often find from a vendor in the mall or a special bake shop? They have quite a history, and it’s tied to prayer.


(image from Pixabay)

Legend suggests, it all began with a monk in Italy or Southern France around 610 A.D. Looking for a way to teach children about prayer, he shaped bread dough to resemble arms folded across the chest with the hands resting on the shoulders, a humble position, common for prayer at the time. He called them pretiola or little rewards. He offered them as an incentive for children to learn their prayers well.

Another legend—not such a nice one—suggests bakers in Germany were held hostage by local dignitaries. The pretzel was created in retaliation. (I’m not sure how that would work.)

Historical records have produced no proof of either the sweet little story or the one about the hostage bakers. The pretzel did, however, become the symbol of Bakers and their guilds in southern Germany as far back as the 12th century. Bakers still use it today. Bakery sign pictured here with two lions holding a pretzel, in Gorlitz, Germany.



(public domain)

Alsace in southern France is a mere 91 miles from Baden-Wurttemberg in southwest Germany. The Hortus deliciarum, a pictorial encyclopedia from the Alsace region, contains this 12th century depiction of a banquet with Queen Esther and King Ahasuerus. Look closely. There is a depiction of the knotted bread on their table.



(public domain)


Fun facts about the pretzel:

The three holes the loops create represent the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit.
Pretzels include no meat, eggs, or dairy, so they were considered appropriate Lenten food.

Pretzel Sunday (4th Sunday in Lent) is celebrated in Luxembourg with a pretzel festival. Boys give their girlfriends pretzels to show how much they like them. The bigger the pretzel the more the admiration. The girl may gift him a fancy decorated Easter egg 2 weeks later suggesting he increase his attention. This ancient custom remains alive in the Swabian Alps.

The Brezel (German name) may have been derived from Latin word brachiola, meaning little arms.


Would you like to make the big pretzels at home? In dread fear of how difficult the task would be, I ordered a book on Pretzel making anyway, and I created my own. There was nothing difficult about them—just lots of twisting, shaping, and waiting. There are many recipes out there. The one I used, contains Pilsner beer and Barley Malt syrup. The beer adds yeast and both add unique flavor. I dipped them in a baking soda bath before baking. They get plenty of compliments.

(my photo)


This is not the exact recipe I use, but very close. Beer Soft Pretzels from Jennifer Meyering.

Little things often have big meaning. The pretzel--a simple knotted bread--reminds us of humility and turning our hearts to God in prayer.

Award-winning author, Lynn U. Watson, is the great-granddaughterr of a baron from Southwest Germany. Snippets of her family's story inspire her fiction writing. Following in her grandmother's footsteps, Lynn sewed for the public--everything from adorable children's outfits to formal and bridal wear. She and her artist husband, Steve, created the Lynn'n Butterfly Collection of counted-cross-stitch leaflets. In 2007, Lynn became a certified reflexologist, and Footsteps in Eden was born. Lynn's touch therapy skills bring relaxation to her clients one pair of feet at a time. Jasmine, the resident feline, runs the place, while Lynn combines her passions and her heritage, Stepping through time, Stitching stories of faith.

In this Christmas meet-cute, you'll laugh and cry and wonder just how silly things can get with a bunch of kids in a dancing Christmas play. Lyydi and her friend, Summer, lead the children to exclaim, "The baby is the Gift!"

This little bonus story is the bridge between Frayed Promises (book2) and Planted Promises (book 3 upcoming) in Lynn's Promised Destiny series. You'll discover more of Lyydi and Benj's story in Planted Promises where new mysteries and more family secrets will keep you cheering for this couple, and where Nancy Drew style clues will keep you guessing until the end.