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Galveston's Red Light District: A History of The Line
A local historian recounts nearly seventy years of seduction and scandal along the Texas Gulf Coast in this lively chronicle of Galveston’s notorious past. Known today as a colorful resort destination featuring family entertainment and a thriving arts district, Galveston, Texas, was once notorious for its flourishing vice economy and infamous red-light district. Called simply “The Line,” the unassuming five blocks of Postoffice Street came alive every night with wild parties and generous offerings of love for sale. Beginning in the late nineteenth century, The Line was a stubborn mainstay of the island cityscape until it was finally shut down in the 1950s. But ridding Galveston of prostitution would prove much more difficult than putting a padlock on the front door. In Galveston’s Red Light District, Texas historian Kimber Fountain pursues the sequestered story of women who wanted to make their own rules and the city that wanted to let them.
- GenresHistoryNonfiction
181 pages, Kindle Edition
Published December 7, 2021
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Displaying 1 - 13 of 13 reviews
March 5, 2022
Kimber Fountain approaches this history of prostitution on the island city by putting it in context of the time from the 1880s through the late 1950’s. Fountain makes no apologies for the profession, but stresses the limited economic opportunities available to single young women during this period. She argues that their only victims were themselves, although the majority did not see themselves as victims.
The author tells us that by 1880, the proliferation of the Galveston seaport was accompanied by four hundred and eighty-nine saloons and around fifty-five brothels. One of these was a massive, multi-room structure advertised as a female boardinghouse. The building had a sense of decorum and respectability. By the last decade of the 19th century, the popularity of this area on Postoffice Street had earned the nickname: “The Line.” This generic moniker for a row of brothels became embedded into the city’s brand-name district for decades. Before long, red lights were adopted by savvy madams as a symbol of sex for hire. Amid the proliferation of red-light districts across Texas, waves of resistance formed against their presence, steered by fervent church leaders, auxiliary ladies groups and religious minded politicians.
By the 1920s, it was thought that removing prostitution from the island was impossible and therefore controlling it was essential. Surprisingly, red light districts were never an issue of importance in any political race because the citizens were more concerned with the operation of the wharf and the port as well as attracting tourists to the island. By the late 1920s, the sandy beaches, highly publicized events and numerous conventions brought huge crowds to Seawall Boulevard. These factors continued to benefit the cluster of brothels tucked away in in the downtown area.
The economic impact of this business was a good one. The Great Depression seized the nation in its paralyzing grip in the 1930s. As legitimate commerce kept the city’s professional world busy, the well-established island economy of gambling, booze, and love by the hour kept residents somewhat sheltered and economically content. The next decade saw an influx of young women looking to escape the economic depravities of the depression. Consequently, the red-light district soon had a supply of prostitutes that outpaced demand. Low end brothels began to creep in and multiply, slowly choking out the few remnants of glitz and glamour from the late 19th and early 20th centuries. Gone were the days of elegant women in their evening attire being sought after by discrete gentlemen. The reality of competition forced them to advertise themselves on balconies with women appearing on the upper floor windows in shorty pajamas and nightgowns to lure potential customers inside.
Galveston never legalized prostitution, but city leaders were content to look the other way. Police raids on “The Line” were not uncommon. The newspaper would report a raid to demonstrate how the authorities were quick to shut down the activity. The young women and their madams were brought into custody, paid a fine, then released the same day. This created the public perception of intolerance by law enforcement against the brothels, while the women were free to resume their trade that evening. Customers were almost never arrested. The women who engaged in the trade did not protest or rally their cause or even demand that city officials legalize prostitution. These establishments continued to operate on the island into the late 1950s.
Prostitutes of the era were often well-traveled, because they were habitually on the move, bouncing between periods of tolerance and intolerance in any given city, chasing the newest district development or simply choosing this lifestyle because it suited them. “The Line” was the most profitable and economical work place for a “working” woman in Galveston. They were required to pay the Madam for their “crib” and about 40% of earnings. These expenses were offset in brothels where madams had established brands, reputation, and steady clientele. Most of the money stayed in Galveston. Shopkeepers delighted when they spotted a woman from “The Line” heading to their store. The women were immaculately dressed and accompanied by a maid or their Madam, and generous in their spending. These girls were graciously received almost everywhere they went, because everyone knew they had money to spend.
One of the greatest strengths of this book is its descriptions of the brothel houses themselves. Most have since been demolished, but a hand full are still standing, including the Antique Warehouse (the former Oleander Hotel), Havana Alley, and at least one house once owned by a madam “Mother Harvey.” That house has a lavishly decorated reception parlor and was featured on the 1992 Galveston homes tour. There are numerous photos in this book of several other houses, along with ledgers, calling cards and even a numerical tally of an evening’s receipts inscribed on a wall by a mathematically inclined call girl.
The author was not able to interview any former prostitutes or their madams, but she did interview some former customers. They recalled the process for entering the houses, selecting their girl for the evening and leaving via the discreet exits. These men, now senior citizens, decided to remain anonymous, although the author breaks their side of this colorful story wide open for the reader’s enrichment of days gone by.
By James P. Bevill, author of The Paper Republic, The Struggle for Money, Credit and Independence in the Republic of Texas, and Blackboards and Bomb Shelters, the Perilous Journey of Americans in China during World War II.
The author tells us that by 1880, the proliferation of the Galveston seaport was accompanied by four hundred and eighty-nine saloons and around fifty-five brothels. One of these was a massive, multi-room structure advertised as a female boardinghouse. The building had a sense of decorum and respectability. By the last decade of the 19th century, the popularity of this area on Postoffice Street had earned the nickname: “The Line.” This generic moniker for a row of brothels became embedded into the city’s brand-name district for decades. Before long, red lights were adopted by savvy madams as a symbol of sex for hire. Amid the proliferation of red-light districts across Texas, waves of resistance formed against their presence, steered by fervent church leaders, auxiliary ladies groups and religious minded politicians.
By the 1920s, it was thought that removing prostitution from the island was impossible and therefore controlling it was essential. Surprisingly, red light districts were never an issue of importance in any political race because the citizens were more concerned with the operation of the wharf and the port as well as attracting tourists to the island. By the late 1920s, the sandy beaches, highly publicized events and numerous conventions brought huge crowds to Seawall Boulevard. These factors continued to benefit the cluster of brothels tucked away in in the downtown area.
The economic impact of this business was a good one. The Great Depression seized the nation in its paralyzing grip in the 1930s. As legitimate commerce kept the city’s professional world busy, the well-established island economy of gambling, booze, and love by the hour kept residents somewhat sheltered and economically content. The next decade saw an influx of young women looking to escape the economic depravities of the depression. Consequently, the red-light district soon had a supply of prostitutes that outpaced demand. Low end brothels began to creep in and multiply, slowly choking out the few remnants of glitz and glamour from the late 19th and early 20th centuries. Gone were the days of elegant women in their evening attire being sought after by discrete gentlemen. The reality of competition forced them to advertise themselves on balconies with women appearing on the upper floor windows in shorty pajamas and nightgowns to lure potential customers inside.
Galveston never legalized prostitution, but city leaders were content to look the other way. Police raids on “The Line” were not uncommon. The newspaper would report a raid to demonstrate how the authorities were quick to shut down the activity. The young women and their madams were brought into custody, paid a fine, then released the same day. This created the public perception of intolerance by law enforcement against the brothels, while the women were free to resume their trade that evening. Customers were almost never arrested. The women who engaged in the trade did not protest or rally their cause or even demand that city officials legalize prostitution. These establishments continued to operate on the island into the late 1950s.
Prostitutes of the era were often well-traveled, because they were habitually on the move, bouncing between periods of tolerance and intolerance in any given city, chasing the newest district development or simply choosing this lifestyle because it suited them. “The Line” was the most profitable and economical work place for a “working” woman in Galveston. They were required to pay the Madam for their “crib” and about 40% of earnings. These expenses were offset in brothels where madams had established brands, reputation, and steady clientele. Most of the money stayed in Galveston. Shopkeepers delighted when they spotted a woman from “The Line” heading to their store. The women were immaculately dressed and accompanied by a maid or their Madam, and generous in their spending. These girls were graciously received almost everywhere they went, because everyone knew they had money to spend.
One of the greatest strengths of this book is its descriptions of the brothel houses themselves. Most have since been demolished, but a hand full are still standing, including the Antique Warehouse (the former Oleander Hotel), Havana Alley, and at least one house once owned by a madam “Mother Harvey.” That house has a lavishly decorated reception parlor and was featured on the 1992 Galveston homes tour. There are numerous photos in this book of several other houses, along with ledgers, calling cards and even a numerical tally of an evening’s receipts inscribed on a wall by a mathematically inclined call girl.
The author was not able to interview any former prostitutes or their madams, but she did interview some former customers. They recalled the process for entering the houses, selecting their girl for the evening and leaving via the discreet exits. These men, now senior citizens, decided to remain anonymous, although the author breaks their side of this colorful story wide open for the reader’s enrichment of days gone by.
By James P. Bevill, author of The Paper Republic, The Struggle for Money, Credit and Independence in the Republic of Texas, and Blackboards and Bomb Shelters, the Perilous Journey of Americans in China during World War II.
June 3, 2020
This book reads like an expanded section of another book - and that's not a bad thing. A snippet about The Line in a book about Galveston or Texas might pique someone's interest, but would probably be a footnote if anything (it's covered only a little in Gary Cartwright's 'Galveston: A History of the Island,' for example). This is that paragraph blown up into a full, if small, book, and the result is an engaging study of an unique place and moment in history.
Also, this book has appeal beyond its extremely niche audience - the history of prostitution in Galveston is a very obscure topic in the grand scheme of things, but Fountain gives the reader insights and the fruit of some deep research that are relevant to anyone interested in reading about red light districts and prostitution in general. Definitely worth a read if you're interested in what it's about.
Also, this book has appeal beyond its extremely niche audience - the history of prostitution in Galveston is a very obscure topic in the grand scheme of things, but Fountain gives the reader insights and the fruit of some deep research that are relevant to anyone interested in reading about red light districts and prostitution in general. Definitely worth a read if you're interested in what it's about.
March 5, 2022
Kimber Fountain approaches this history of prostitution on the island city by putting it in context of the time from the 1880s through the late 1950’s. Fountain makes no apologies for the profession, but stresses the limited economic opportunities available to single young women during this period. She argues that their only victims were themselves, although the majority did not see themselves as victims.
The author tells us that by 1880, the proliferation of the Galveston seaport was accompanied by four hundred and eighty-nine saloons and around fifty-five brothels. One of these was a massive, multi-room structure advertised as a female boardinghouse. The building had a sense of decorum and respectability. By the last decade of the 19th century, the popularity of this area on Postoffice Street had earned the nickname: “The Line.” This generic moniker for a row of brothels became embedded into the city’s brand-name district for decades. Before long, red lights were adopted by savvy madams as a symbol of sex for hire. Amid the proliferation of red-light districts across Texas, waves of resistance formed against their presence, steered by fervent church leaders, auxiliary ladies groups and religious minded politicians.
By the 1920s, it was thought that removing prostitution from the island was impossible and therefore controlling it was essential. Surprisingly, red light districts were never an issue of importance in any political race because the citizens were more concerned with the operation of the wharf and the port as well as attracting tourists to the island. By the late 1920s, the sandy beaches, highly publicized events and numerous conventions brought huge crowds to Seawall Boulevard. These factors continued to benefit the cluster of brothels tucked away in in the downtown area.
The economic impact of this business was a good one. The Great Depression seized the nation in its paralyzing grip in the 1930s. As legitimate commerce kept the city’s professional world busy, the well-established island economy of gambling, booze, and love by the hour kept residents somewhat sheltered and economically content. The next decade saw an influx of young women looking to escape the economic depravities of the depression. Consequently, the red-light district soon had a supply of prostitutes that outpaced demand. Low end brothels began to creep in and multiply, slowly choking out the few remnants of glitz and glamour from the late 19th and early 20th centuries. Gone were the days of elegant women in their evening attire being sought after by discrete gentlemen. The reality of competition forced them to advertise themselves on balconies with women appearing on the upper floor windows in shorty pajamas and nightgowns to lure potential customers inside.
Galveston never legalized prostitution, but city leaders were content to look the other way. Police raids on “The Line” were not uncommon. The newspaper would report a raid to demonstrate how the authorities were quick to shut down the activity. The young women and their madams were brought into custody, paid a fine, then released the same day. This created the public perception of intolerance by law enforcement against the brothels, while the women were free to resume their trade that evening. Customers were almost never arrested. The women who engaged in the trade did not protest or rally their cause or even demand that city officials legalize prostitution. These establishments continued to operate on the island into the late 1950s.
Prostitutes of the era were often well-traveled, because they were habitually on the move, bouncing between periods of tolerance and intolerance in any given city, chasing the newest district development or simply choosing this lifestyle because it suited them. “The Line” was the most profitable and economical work place for a “working” woman in Galveston. They were required to pay the Madam for their “crib” and about 40% of earnings. These expenses were offset in brothels where madams had established brands, reputation, and steady clientele. Most of the money stayed in Galveston. Shopkeepers delighted when they spotted a woman from “The Line” heading to their store. The women were immaculately dressed and accompanied by a maid or their Madam, and generous in their spending. These girls were graciously received almost everywhere they went, because everyone knew they had money to spend.
One of the greatest strengths of this book is its descriptions of the brothel houses themselves. Most have since been demolished, but a hand full are still standing, including the Antique Warehouse (the former Oleander Hotel), Havana Alley, and at least one house once owned by a madam “Mother Harvey.” That house has a lavishly decorated reception parlor and was featured on the 1992 Galveston homes tour. There are numerous photos in this book of several other houses, along with ledgers, calling cards and even a numerical tally of an evening’s receipts inscribed on a wall by a mathematically inclined call girl.
The author was not able to interview any former prostitutes or their madams, but she did interview some former customers. They recalled the process for entering the houses, selecting their girl for the evening and leaving via the discreet exits. These men, now senior citizens, decided to remain anonymous, although the author breaks their side of this colorful story wide open for the reader’s enrichment of days gone by.
By James P. Bevill, author of The Paper Republic, The Struggle for Money, Credit and Independence in the Republic of Texas, and Blackboards and Bomb Shelters, the Perilous Journey of Americans in China during World War II.
The author tells us that by 1880, the proliferation of the Galveston seaport was accompanied by four hundred and eighty-nine saloons and around fifty-five brothels. One of these was a massive, multi-room structure advertised as a female boardinghouse. The building had a sense of decorum and respectability. By the last decade of the 19th century, the popularity of this area on Postoffice Street had earned the nickname: “The Line.” This generic moniker for a row of brothels became embedded into the city’s brand-name district for decades. Before long, red lights were adopted by savvy madams as a symbol of sex for hire. Amid the proliferation of red-light districts across Texas, waves of resistance formed against their presence, steered by fervent church leaders, auxiliary ladies groups and religious minded politicians.
By the 1920s, it was thought that removing prostitution from the island was impossible and therefore controlling it was essential. Surprisingly, red light districts were never an issue of importance in any political race because the citizens were more concerned with the operation of the wharf and the port as well as attracting tourists to the island. By the late 1920s, the sandy beaches, highly publicized events and numerous conventions brought huge crowds to Seawall Boulevard. These factors continued to benefit the cluster of brothels tucked away in in the downtown area.
The economic impact of this business was a good one. The Great Depression seized the nation in its paralyzing grip in the 1930s. As legitimate commerce kept the city’s professional world busy, the well-established island economy of gambling, booze, and love by the hour kept residents somewhat sheltered and economically content. The next decade saw an influx of young women looking to escape the economic depravities of the depression. Consequently, the red-light district soon had a supply of prostitutes that outpaced demand. Low end brothels began to creep in and multiply, slowly choking out the few remnants of glitz and glamour from the late 19th and early 20th centuries. Gone were the days of elegant women in their evening attire being sought after by discrete gentlemen. The reality of competition forced them to advertise themselves on balconies with women appearing on the upper floor windows in shorty pajamas and nightgowns to lure potential customers inside.
Galveston never legalized prostitution, but city leaders were content to look the other way. Police raids on “The Line” were not uncommon. The newspaper would report a raid to demonstrate how the authorities were quick to shut down the activity. The young women and their madams were brought into custody, paid a fine, then released the same day. This created the public perception of intolerance by law enforcement against the brothels, while the women were free to resume their trade that evening. Customers were almost never arrested. The women who engaged in the trade did not protest or rally their cause or even demand that city officials legalize prostitution. These establishments continued to operate on the island into the late 1950s.
Prostitutes of the era were often well-traveled, because they were habitually on the move, bouncing between periods of tolerance and intolerance in any given city, chasing the newest district development or simply choosing this lifestyle because it suited them. “The Line” was the most profitable and economical work place for a “working” woman in Galveston. They were required to pay the Madam for their “crib” and about 40% of earnings. These expenses were offset in brothels where madams had established brands, reputation, and steady clientele. Most of the money stayed in Galveston. Shopkeepers delighted when they spotted a woman from “The Line” heading to their store. The women were immaculately dressed and accompanied by a maid or their Madam, and generous in their spending. These girls were graciously received almost everywhere they went, because everyone knew they had money to spend.
One of the greatest strengths of this book is its descriptions of the brothel houses themselves. Most have since been demolished, but a hand full are still standing, including the Antique Warehouse (the former Oleander Hotel), Havana Alley, and at least one house once owned by a madam “Mother Harvey.” That house has a lavishly decorated reception parlor and was featured on the 1992 Galveston homes tour. There are numerous photos in this book of several other houses, along with ledgers, calling cards and even a numerical tally of an evening’s receipts inscribed on a wall by a mathematically inclined call girl.
The author was not able to interview any former prostitutes or their madams, but she did interview some former customers. They recalled the process for entering the houses, selecting their girl for the evening and leaving via the discreet exits. These men, now senior citizens, decided to remain anonymous, although the author breaks their side of this colorful story wide open for the reader’s enrichment of days gone by.
By James P. Bevill, author of The Paper Republic, The Struggle for Money, Credit and Independence in the Republic of Texas, and Blackboards and Bomb Shelters, the Perilous Journey of Americans in China during World War II.
November 2, 2021
If you’re not familiar with Galveston, reading this would be pretty eye opening – I suggest looking into the city or finding another book that will give you a rundown first. This book focuses on prostitution in the neighborhood known as the Line, mostly during the city’s Free State era, and it’s full of insights into the brothel industry as well as the history of Galveston. It’s short, it’s all super interesting stuff, and Fountain’s a solid writer. Cool pictures, too.
May 1, 2020
I really enjoyed this quick peek into a business that once helped Galveston Island through economic slumps. The author really shined a light on the WHY anyone would want to work in the red light district in the first place. Very interesting and we'll written book.
September 29, 2018
Keen insights into the social climate that set the stage for the tolerance and intolerance.
May 9, 2019
I didn’t realize how most ppl were ok with this profession at first. It was a great insight to the pass
January 25, 2020
Great quick read on the history of prostitution in Galveston. Enjoyed learning about the madams and to see how the profession was so intertwined into the city governance, economy, and psyche.
February 26, 2020
Picked this up during a trip to Galveston, enjoyed reading about some local history.
March 9, 2020
Love reading about the history of cities I love. I’ll be looking at the buildings and streets very differently on my next visit.
February 17, 2025
such a good read!
I love that the books provides names and addresses where events took place! I am planning a trip to Galveston for a stroll down memory lane!
I love that the books provides names and addresses where events took place! I am planning a trip to Galveston for a stroll down memory lane!
May 6, 2025
An engaging review of prostitution in Galveston in the 19th and 20th centuries and its role in the island's cultural, economic, and political life.
March 12, 2020
I was really disappointed in this book. I was expecting to hear colorful stories and interesting facts. In actuality it read like a high school research paper. The pictures in the book were very low quality. Her chapter on notorious madams was especially disappointing. Angelina Dickinson was a survivor of the Alamo (as a baby)and later became a Galveston Madam. And one small paragraph was all the author could come up with???? Come on. Do some research and learn how to paint a colorful story with words.
Displaying 1 - 13 of 13 reviews