The Water Queen: Dolly Adams and FrIsco’s Gilded Vice

Dolly Adams hit Frisco as a wild and precocious child, already carrying the kind of trouble that would follow a girl in the late 1800s. She  became infamous as the Water Queen, and she could stay underwater long enough to make a North Beach crowd forget its manners. The bloods, the rich boys, from Nob Hill and Pacific Heights came looking for a little excitement and found Dolly instead. Money followed. Diamonds followed. Soon enough, she had plenty of both.

But Frisco always collects its debts. Dolly moved from the stage into the city’s demimonde and eventually established a bordello on Ellis Street. For a few wild years she made a fortune and sent money home to her family. Then the booze, laudanum, opium, and syphilis began taking their cut. Her beauty faded, her customers disappeared, and her name turned up in William Chambliss’s poisonous book about San Francisco society—a book full of scandal, grudges, and whispers about the respectable men who knew Dolly.

In 1887, Dolly went back to the Big Apple for five months and came back to Frisco looking like a wreck of the woman she had been. She still had diamonds and railroad bonds, but the good times were gone. She sailed for the Orient, learned in Hong Kong that her mother had died, and turned around for home. She never got there. Dolly Adams died aboard ship on the voyage back to San Francisco, twenty-six years old. They embalmed her body and brought her home with a little tin trunk containing diamonds, bonds, and the remnants of a life that had burned hot and fast. In a city built on gold, vice, and second chances, the Water Queen ran out of all three.

Transcript

Copy

Welcome to the Frisco: The Secret History Podcast. I’m your host, Knox Bronson. I have wonderful story for you today. We are going back in time to share the story of one of San Francisco’s infamous madams, Dolly Adams, who arrived in San Francisco from New York in 1877 while still in her teens. She immediately splashed, literally and figuratively into the Frisco Zeitgeist with her act as the Water Queen. Able to hold her breath for an astonishing amount of time, she swam in a fish tank at North Beach nightclub wearing semi-transparent tights much to the fevered delight the city’s bloods, as they were called, rich young men of the idle class.

Before we get going, I want say thank you to Walter Hass at Graffeo Coffee Roasters at 735 Columbus Avenue in San Francisco. 

Graffeo was founded in 1935 and has been selling coffee beans to the public and the best restaurants near and far ever since. I have been drinking Graffeo Coffee since I lived around the corner on Mason Street back in the Seventies. Graffeo offers a dark roast, light roast, and a Swiss-water decaf bean. If you can’t get to North Beach, you can go to Graffeo.com, that is g r a f f e o dot com and order there. They sell whole beans, or will grind to your request. I love starting my day with a huge mug of dark roast. I am really happy to say that Graffeo Coffee is a founding sponsor for the Frisco: The Secret History podcast. I am thrilled to be associated with such an historic and iconic San Francisco brand.  Graffeo beans are, as it says on the package, “Simply the finest coffee in the world.” It’s true. Give Graffeo a try. You will thank me.

[intermezzo]

I have found joy beyond expectation in researching and writing these episodes of Frisco past. For most of my life, I was always looking forward: I knew the future would be better. I was a fanatic reader of science fiction in my teens and twenties. As I once said to Peter Mintun, San Francisco’s society pianist who played at the exclusive L’Etoile nightclub atop Nob Hill for decades, “Peter, I finally figured out the difference between you and me. You would like to live in Thirties and I would like to live a million years in the future.” I have known Peter since the early Sixties, when we walked together to Willard Jr. High School in Berkeley every morning. 

My father was a best-selling author and historian. Among other books, he wrote “The Earth Shook, The Sky Burned,” about the 1906 earthquake and fire, which was a national bestseller and is still considered by some to be the definitive book on the topic. Needless to say, I grew up imbued with San Francisco and Northern California history. 

So, yes, I am at last following in dad’s footsteps and I have come to understand his fascination with the past, especially about this impossible city, San Francisco, the outlaw village on the far edge of the American continent by the shining blue Pacific, built on gold and vice, industry and commerce,  by merchants and madams, desperados and adventurers from around the world.  

Why am I sharing all this? Well, it’s my convoluted way of introducing the first part of this episode about Dolly Adams. I had originally planned it to be a shorter bonus-type episode, for Dolly’s time in Frisco was short and tragic. 

In 1895, William Chambliss self-published a book, Chambliss’ diary; or, Society as it really is. By William H. Chambliss. Fully illustrated with over fifty copper-plate half-tones and photo-engravings. Including twenty-five society pictures by Laura E. Foster, in New York City.

Dolly is mentioned in the book, as are a number of prominent San Francisco families and individuals. As is often the case in researching episodes, a name or an event or, as in this case, a book is mentioned and I am sent down an historical rabbit-hole wherein I may get lost for hours. The recent three-episode story on the Nice DeJohn murder of 1947,  the investigation and trial, came to be due to a passing, cryptic reference to DeJohn in a Freddie Francisco column in late 1948.

Curt Gentry, in his book, “The Madams of San Francisco,” talks about Chambliss and his book at length in his chapter about Dolly Adams. Naturally, I went down the William Chambliss rabbit-hole and found, among other things, a PDF of his 1895 book online. He could not get it published in San Francisco - it s production was actively sabotaged here, in fact - so he self-published it in New York City.

And what a book it is. The man was an insufferable, hateful snob from Mississippi who felt compelled to expound on the failings, moral and otherwise, of San Francisco society. He did not last long here. I’m sure he was laughed out of town, although he definitely had a few friends in San Francisco.

In his preface, he wrote:

[typewriter]

The foolish attempt of certain members of the parvenu element of San Francisco and New York to suppress the book before it was half written, by accusing me of being too personal in my remarks, and writing in a spirit of revenge, only goes to prove that the guilty sometimes call attention to their errors by denying things of which no one has accused them. 

In order to show the difference between real respectability and vulgar pretension in high, or alleged high, life, I have indulged in a few personal remarks, and have given some examples that will corroborate the openly expressed opinions of many honorable citizens, who declare that the alleged or self-styled high society is just the reverse of what it claims to be. I have written this for the good of society, and not with a view to injuring anyone. 

No person has a higher regard for real respectability than I have, and my detestation for shoddyism, snobbery, and insolence, the three principal strands in the mainstay of the alleged high society, ranks second to that of none. 

The San Francisco Examiner, in commenting upon the absurdity of trying to suppress the truth, made the following remarks in a leading editorial: 

“That there should be a considerable dissension from the publication of Mr. Chambliss' Diary, wherein he has unfolded his secrets concerning the personnel of society, is natural; that the dissenters should be persons of prominence in that ‘sacred’ circle no less so. Whether the author has or has not portrayed ‘Society as it really is' would seem to be a matter of minor importance in determining the cause of dissension. Of greater weight is the fact that he has portrayed it as it has pleased him to do. From Mr. Chambliss' tastes in pleasure neither social distinction, nor obscure origin, nor financial worth is adequate protection. Even great military prowess is insufficient to silence him.” 

[end typewriter]

With the term parvenu, Chambliss was referring to the newly wealthy of San Francisco. He coined the term, Parvenucracy and wrote: Parvenucracy means those arch-parvenus, and their followers, who imagine that the mere acquisition of a few thousand dollars, coupled with an unlimited supply of insolence and arrogance, is all that they require in order to gain admission to the homes of persons of culture and refinement. 

See what I mean?

Here are some other pre-publication quotes from his preface:

From Miss Jessi Robertson's San Francisco Society. 

[typewriter]

“Chambliss' Diary will be the most successful book ever issued on society. There is a profound conviction all around that the author is a man who has had the opportunity of studying the human nature he is portraying on paper. He has traveled extensively all over the world, always moving in the best circles of society. He comes from one of the oldest families in Mississippi.” 

[ end typewriter]

Slave-holders, of that I’m certain.

From Jared Hoag's California and her Builders. 

[typewriter]

“The author is well known as a typical representative of honored heredity. His life and career have given him favorable opportunities to see society life as it really is, and the ‘Diary’ is a truthful narrative of the customs and usages of the best society, and a scathing review of shoddyism, vulgarity, and truckling sycophancy, abundant in the so-called society of parvenus.”

[ end typewriter]

In Chapter One, he writes:

[typewriter]

At first, immigration was a good thing for the country. Many good people, sick and tired of the oppression of monarchs and aristocrats, came over and proved to be valuable citizens. But too much of a good thing of this kind is worse than not enough. Out of this foreign immigration there sprang up an evil which has grown to such alarming proportions that, at the present time, our very form of government is threatened with disruption. 

Glad of an opportunity to get rid of their paupers, France, Germany, Italy, Portugal, Great Britain, Russia, Spain, Norway, and Sweden threw open the flood-gates of their sewers, and shipped us thousands and hundreds of thousands of the very lowest and most undesirable elements of civilization. 

Those unfortunate creatures, who never enjoyed in their own countries the privileges that stray felines and canines are allowed over here, are the very devils, in human form, who defy law and order, and threaten the destruction of the government that fosters them. 

[ end typewriter]

Sound familiar? He was a rich kid from the Deep South.

How does this all relate to the rather sad story of Dolly Adams? I’m going to share one last excerpt of Chambliss’s book. There’s a lot to unpack in it, so please bear with me.

[typewriter]

We sailed from Yokohama on the 8th of January. One of our cabin passengers died the following morning. She was not a society lady by any means, but nevertheless she had a great many “friends” among the “society” swells of San Francisco. Perhaps the mention of her name will remind certain prominent members of the Bohemian, the Olympic, and the Pacific Union clubs of many a pleasant little midnight coaching party from a certain Ellis Street establishment to the Cliff House; for among her baggage were photographs of several prominent members of the above mentioned clubs. How she got those photographs I will ask the reader to decide. 

The woman's name was Dolly Adams, better known as the Water Queen; and the establishment that she received her distinguished “friends” in was similar to the notorious Stockton Street establishment formerly kept by Maud Nelson, who is now Mrs. Charles Fair. I make no apology to the reader for using the name of such a character as Maud Nelson, because she has married into a set that ranks among the most presumptuous and arrogant parvenus of American. When she married Charlie Fair, and took him off to Europe on a bridal tour on the income from the Stockton Street house, she became the daughter-in-law of ex-Senator James G. Fair, and the sister-in-law of Mr. and Mrs. Herman Oelrichs, of newspaper society “fame.” 

The reading public knows very well how the names of Mr. and Mrs. Herman Oelrichs, and the rest of the Fair Crowd, have been boldly flaunted in the papers to let people know that they had lunched or dined with some other member of the same “set” that they belong to. And I suppose we will soon learn that Mr. and Mrs. Charlie Fair are being entertained by members of the same vulgar set. Are they not birds of a feather, and are they not eligible to membership in the Friday Night Cotillion Club, provided that they can raise the necessary five dollars to hand over to Mr. Greenway for their admission to the dance hall? 

If Mr. and Mrs. C. P. Huntington, Mr. and Mrs J. L. Flood, Mr. and Mrs. C. E. Paxton, Mr. and Mrs. M. H. de Young, Mrs. V. Spalding, Mr. and Mrs. Wise and others of that stripe are eligible, I see no reason why poor, much-abused Charlie and Maud should be excluded. I merely speak of this because I believe in fair play. 

If the escapade of young Charlie Fair is not a repetition of history, I should like to know what you would have me call it. When such creatures as those can pose before the public in the society columns of the papers as representatives of California polite society, it is time for reputable citizens to keep out of print, except to protest against such “journalism” and such “journalists” as would permit such foul names to appear in a society report and on a basis of equality with pure, innocent girls. 

We did not bury Dolly Adams at sea. Dr. Frank S. Sutton embalmed the body, and placed it in a Chinese wooden cofffin, and brought it on to San Francisco, where it was turned over to some charitable institution for burial. 

On our way home from Yokohama we called at Honolulu, on the 19th of January, to land several hundred Chinese contract laborers that we had in the steerage for Spreckels' sugar plantation in the Hawaiian Islands. 

Owing to the fact that the smallpox was raging at Hong Kong, from which port we brought those Chinese laborers, the authorities at Honolulu refused to allow us to land either passengers or freight at that port; consequently we had to bring the whole load on up to San Francisco. 

Upon our arrival here on the 27th we were immediately placed in quarantine by Dr. McAllister (this gentleman is no relation of the late society leader, Ward), who ordered us to anchor over at the Angel Island quarantine station. 

[end typewriter]

Chambliss had sailed from Yokohama in January of 1888. On board the ship was Dolly Adams, former Frisco madam, who died on the second day of the voyage. He identified her by name as well as her her stage moniker, The Water Queen, said that she had many friends among the members of the best San Francisco clubs. He claimed to have found photographs of a number of society swells in her luggage and implied she knew them from her bordello. 

How he gained access to her luggage is unknown and it is possible he made the story up. I would not be surprised.

He did not identify which men were in the photos by name, although he later mentioned later such names as Flood, Huntington, deYoung, and so on, prominent names in our history any San Franciscan will recognize.

He also felt compelled to mention Maud Nelson, another Frisco madam and how Maud had married Charlie Fair, scion of silver mining king and US Senator James G. Fair. I will tell Maud Nelson Fair’s story soon enough. 

His contempt for Frisco is clear throughout. I’ve spent a little time perusing the rest of the book, which came in at four-hundred-plus pages of unrelenting and poisonous privilege. He loathed the city and our free-wheeling ways. Curt Gentry says of the book, “It remains an exceedingly strange volume, more than half devoted to slavish self-praise, the rest to scandal.”

Gentry also wrote: 

[typewriter]

The above paragraph, referring to Dolly Adams, alias *The Water Queen," was written by a man as full of hate and venom as the editors of San Francisco's early scandal sheets. The book in which it appeared became, within days after its 1895 publication, one of the rare volumes of Californiana, not because it was not issued in quantity—it was, some 10,000 copies being printed in New York-but because once it reached the Pacific Coast a number of prominent San Franciscans spent considerable amounts of time and money buying and burning every copy they could obtain. 

One San Francisco society matron, credited with an abnormally large purchase, and possessing an understanding of psychotherapy far in advance of her day, is said to have saved her copies and consigned them singly to the flames whenever a particularly bad mood came upon her.

Some members of San Francisco society were touchy about their backgrounds and origins. They were unappreciative of historian Bancroft's declaration that "An aristocracy, in the common acceptance of the term, never has found a place in California."

[end typewriter]

I’ve discussed this before. In my first episode, I quoted what attorney Jake “The Master” Ehrlich wrote about on the first day of his arrival in the city in the early 1920s:

[typewriter]

I strode on up Market Street, ignoring the protests from my empty belly.

I admired the people about me. The men seemed more robust, more male, more capable of absolutely anything-good or bad-than any I'd seen, and I liked the curious, uninhibited feeling of democracy that seemed to exist between them. Teamsters and draymen addressed sulphurous warnings and bawdy wit to their so-called social betters and even to the police, as well as to their peers in the traffic interchanges that enlivened life on Market Street. 

[end typewriter]

I am certain that the city’s bold and forthright egalitarianism drove the effete powder-puff Chambliss insane. 

If he ever crossed paths with Emperor Norton on the streets of Frisco, I would bet that the Emperor would have barely acknowledged his existence. Chambliss finally scurried home and lived out his days Mississippi. I’m happy  to report that the man does not merit a mention in Wikipedia.

Not all of the copies of his book were burned, mainly because not all of the books were shipped to California. There are copies of it available even today. I found one for ninety-nine dollars on Ebay. I am not tempted to buy it.

[intermezzo]

Alright, out of the rabbit hole and back to Dolly Adams.

Dolly Adams was born in New York City. Her father died when she was quite young, leaving her and her mother in what her obituary called straitened circumstances. 

Dolly was a willful and wayward girl, and very independent. She made acquaintances of which her mother knew nothing, and this led to her downfall. She had barely turned 14, as her San Francisco Chronicle obituary put it, when her ruin was accomplished. The obituary continued, “She afterward fell into the hands of a disreputable woman in her native city, and under her guidance entered upon a life of shame, and became an inmate of her gilded palace of vice. It was at this house that Mary Ellis met her, and she induced her, in company with Carrie McClay and others, who have since become well known, to come to this city.”

This city being San Francisco

Dolly first made her splash here, not as a prostitute or madam, but by swimming in a tank onstage at the Bella Union theater. She was known as the Water Girl. 

In his book, Lights and Shades in San Francisco, Benjamin E. Lloyd wrote, a year before Dolly arrived in the city in 1877:

“The Bella Union was a lively remnant of gold rush days; prototype for all the city's melodeons, it was also to survive most of them. Because of its former bad reputation, many respectable persons still persist in shunning it; but while it is true that among its patrons there are many rough and vicious characters, who from habit continue to frequent it, it is also a fact that good order is always preserved, and there is no indecent conduct permitted either upon the stage or in the audience."

Dolly was a great swimmer and she had not been here long when she became a prominent figure at North Beach, the admiration of the men and the envy of the women. She earned the sobriquet of the "Water-Queen," but it was not until 1878 that she became famous, and struck the keynote to her fortune. 

In that year Colonel Andrews gave a masquerade ball under the auspices of a charitable institution, and Dolly appeared in the character of Cupid. Needless to say, she carried away the first prize, and also carried away the heads of those who saw her. Hers was a petite figure but most perfectly proportioned. She had a laughing eye and pearly teeth, and magnificent hair of a brownish color which fell to her knees.

She made many friends among the "bloods," as the monied sons of Nob Hill and Pacific Heights were called, and dollars, diamonds, and other delights were showered upon her.

There are conflicting dates, respectively, between Curt Gentry’s account of Dolly’s life and that of her obituary.

Gentry writes:

[typewriter:

There have been many who, like Dolly Adams, entered the world of the demimonde by way of the theater, but not with quite the same splash. Dolly Adams first appeared on the stage of the Bella Union Theatre about 1873, billed as "The Water Queen." Of her parentage and background little is known; her age at the time was eleven, but endowed far beyond her years, she easily passed for seventeen.

[end typewriter]

So Gentry has her arriving in San Franicsco at age eleven in 1873. Her 1888 obituary has her arriving in 1877 at age fourteen.

Another publication reported:

Dolly became famous in 1879 when she attended the annual fundraiser for the Policeman’s Widows and Orphans Fund, known as the Policeman’s Ball. That year’s ball was special because former President Ulysseus S. Grant had stopped in San Francisco and had agreed to attend the fête, which was held at the Mechanics’ Pavilion at Eighth and Market Streets. He was marching at the head of the solemn processional ahead of the guests of honor when, suddenly, out of the gay throng, dashed a somewhat famous if slightly frail beauty of the period—Dolly Adams. She was attired in the conventional costume of Cupid. As well as the bow and arrow, which formed two-thirds of that attire, she carried a lily corsage—an emblem of purity. Before the General could recover from the first shock of her greeting, she had pinned the delicate blossom to the lapel of his coat.

It was said that the indomitable Grant, who had never flinched through the horror of 100 pitched battles, wilted like a wet dishcloth before this unexpected onslaught.

The girl, for she was still a girl, knew how to make an impression.

[intermezzo]

Gentry writes elsewhere:

[typewriter]

The next chapter of Dolly's story comes from the recollections of a local theater historian, as told to him by his father many years ago. One of the city's madams, impressed with Dolly's beauty, her reputation as the Water Queen, and with definite ulterior motives in mind, is said to have taken the vivacious brunette teenager "under her wing," gradually introducing her to the brighter side of demimonde life by arranging for her intimate trysts with wealthy customers in the plush upstairs rooms of the better French restaurants.

After playing upon her appreciation of the easy life, she broached her plan. Dolly is said to have demurred, at first.

At this time indecent exhibitions were presented with regularity in several of the parlor houses, as well as in various Barbary Coast dives. A part of Dolly's fame derived from her ability to remain underwater for amazingly long periods without surfacing for breath. The madam was not unimaginative.

However, when Dolly finally succumbed to financial blandishments, the erotic exhibition was found to be more sensational in concept than practical in design. No male partner capable of successfully performing his role under water could be found.

Dates and recollections grow misty at this point, but it is known that for a time Dolly became a femme entretenue or a kept woman. In the late 1870s she became a madam, opening a "lodging house" on Ellis Street. (From the publication of the first San Francisco City Directory in 1850 until the issue of 1916, when Lodging Houses and Hotels were combined under a single heading, many of the city's parlor houses advertised themselves under the former designation.) The address, 225 Ellis, was to become one of the best known in the annals of San Francisco prostitution.

Dolly, however, had picked up several bad habits while still very young: drink, laudanum, and opium.

She had another habit that no business-wise madam indulges in openly; she made herself available to the most wealthy of her male clientele, a situation that will forever keep a house from becoming a happy home, jealousies among the girls being complicated enough without the mistress of the establishment monopolizing the best customers. Dolly was to pay for this particular sin.

[end typewriter]

On top of her addictions, Dolly had contracted syphyllis, for which there was no known cure at the time.

Her business boomed and for a good five years of riotous living in the 1880s, she was a wealthy woman. She supported her mother and sisters in New York City. Her addictions and her illness took a severe toll on her appearance and, as one newspaper reported, she had been at last almost deserted by her former patrons, lovers, and admirers. 

She returned to New York City in 1887 for five months. During this time,  she was swindled out of $4500 (about $160,000 today) which she was later to recover. She would return to San Francisco  shortly thereafter and set sail for a tour of the Orient.

[intermezzo]

In 1887, a bizarre tale unfolded in New York City. Dolly was mentioned the story and the San Francisco Chronicle carried it the front page

A matrimonial agency was chasing an actor, one Gus Williams, for a debt of $100 or about $3500 today. The Matrimonial Exchange claimed that Gus had met thirty women at their offices and was put in correspondence with fourteen more. He had put down a $5 deposit with the promise to pay the $100 upon marrying one of their referrals.  They claimed that Gus had stiffed them on his introduction fee to the exceptionally attractive Emma Middlebrook, whom he later married. Gus was, at the time, performing in St. Louis but said, through his lawyer, that he’d never heard of the agency and threatened to sue. 

The article stated that Emma had once been “a particular friend of Dolly Adams, the 'Water-Queen.’” 

Emma and Dolly had once lived in a house with one Mrs. Uhler in New York City. Mrs. Uhler—no first name for Mrs. Uhler survives in the record—was a woman with her own scandal and tragedy in the past. Before living with Dolly, she had been enticed away from her husband for a man named Haverstick in the Big Apple. Upon receiving this news, her brother traveled from Nevada to New York and killed Haverstick. He stood trial for the murder and was acquitted. A year later, while living with Dolly and Emma, she committed suicide. Later, Emma married Gus. Dolly returned to Frisco.

Whatever kind of house it was, it attracted strange company.

Dolly returned to San Francisco at the end 1887 as “a wreck of her former self” one paper reported, though reportedly in possession of "magnificent diamonds and considerable railroad bonds.' She stayed in the city about three weeks then sailed for a tour of the Orient. 

In Hong Kong, she received word of her mother’s death in New York City. She promptly booked passage for San Francisco on a steamship. 

Reports vary, but she died either of acute bronchitis or pneumonia within the first few days of the voyage.

Her body was embalmed onboard the ship.

[intermezzo]

The obituary in the San Francisco Chronicle on February 11th, 1888, read:

BURIAL OF DOLLY ADAMS. 

The Noted Swimmer Laid to Rest in This City. 

The embalmed remains of Dolly Adams were taken yesterday from the steamer City of New York, on which she died during a passage from China to San Francisco, and buried in this city. 

The Public Administrator called on the purser of the vessel for her effects, which were contained in a little tin trunk that was opened at the Custom-house yesterday. It contained less valuables than was expected. 

The following articles were found: Fifteen five-dollar gold pieces, one English sovereign, $10 in Hong Kong money, one bond of $1000 of the Metropolitan Elevated Railway Company of New York, one diamond crescent and five diamond bracelets, besides a gold watch, chatelaine, and several fans.

The obituary in The Examiner quoted the ship's doctor, the one who embalmed her as remarking: “she horribly ravaged by disease, she appeared to be a woman well in her seventies." 

[intermezzo]

Tiny Dolly Adams, Frisco’s infamous Water Queen, was only twenty-six years old.