Henry S. Jacob's Cafe

Henry S. Jacob's Café

Location: 25 Graeme Street (a/k/a West Diamond Street), Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, USA

Open/Closed: c. 1914

As part of a fairly extensive research project, I have been looking into the history of the saloons and cafe's that used to exist around Pittsburgh's former Diamond Square (now Market Square). One of the best sources of information are the proceedings from License Court, which allowed citizens and other groups to contest the renewal of liquor licenses for various establishments. Imagine my surprise when I found the following complaints lodged against Henry S. Jacob's place. This report is from the Pittsburgh Daily Post, March 20, 1914:

Wow. Where to even start. During the same era, New York had its Café des Beaux Arts, a ladies drinking establishment opened in 1911. But the press emphasized that this was a genteel place. (Regular readers here will remember that saloons and bars of this era were nearly entirely identified as male-only spaces.)
Mr. Jacob's place apparently wasn't. It was somehow predominantly or primarily women, without appearing to be a genteel place for ladies. In fact, we're told that many of the women are of "bad repute" or "strange." But if they were "prostitutes" looking for customers, why go to a bar that's "primarily" women? After all, logically, you are not going to find many men there. And though detectives claimed that these "strange women" had "asked them to go out," you got to wonder what most of these women were up to....

Hotel Ritz Ladies' Bar

Fifty Million Frenchmen (1931)

Hotel Ritz Ladies' Bar 

Location: 15 Place Vendome, Paris, France 

Opened: The Hotel Ritz opened in 1898, the Hotel's first bar (the male-only bar known as Bar Cambon) opened in 1921. When the Ritz Ladies' Bar opened is not real clear, but it apparently began its life as the ladies waiting room next to to the Bar Cambon.

Closed: What is now known as the Ritz Bar (the bar that was formerly the male-only Bar Cambon) went coed in 1936.  The Ladies' Bar then became Le Petit Bar, and then Bar Hemingway. The Hotel Ritz (along with all its bars) closed for a two-year renovation project in 2012. 

This is yet another case of pure serendipity. I stumbled upon this story about the Hotel Ritz Ladies' Bar in an old newspaper article published in the Oelwein [Iowa] Daily Register, May 9, 1931. The context was the opening of a new movie, Fifty Million Frenchmen. This is some of what it said: 


When "steam room" is mentioned it brings to the average mind a picture of a Turkish Bath with sheeted figures wiping dripping brows in a dense fog. But to a Parisian, the steam room spells something entirely different--the ladies' bar!

Jed Kiley, prominent figure in Paris night life, owner of Cafe Boulevardier, and more recently technical director on Warner Bros. production "Fifty Million Frenchmen," showing at the Galaxy Theatre, Sunday and Monday, coined the phrase. He called the ladies' bar a steam room because at the cocktail hour in Paris, it is so hot and bothered with cigarette smoke that it resembles a steam room. The name stuck and from then on the women's salon of the bar was the "steam room."

An exact duplicate of the Ritz bar in Paris with its accompanying steam room was built on the Warner Bros. lot for the making of this rollicking farce adapted from the stage play of the same name.

Bar Hemingway, the former Hotel Ritz Ladies Bar

From what I can tell, the men's bar began in 1921. It was initially known as the Cambon Bar because the entrance was just inside the Hotel's Rue Cambon entrance.

Colin Peter Field explains the rest:

Just opposite the bar was a very small 'salon de correspondance' with lovely wooden walls. This became the ladies' waiting room, where ladies waiting for their husbands would while away the 'minutes'. (Ladies, at this time, were not allowed in the bars.) In 1936 the principal bar was transformed to receive both sexes, and at the same time a second bar was created. This was 'Le Petit Bar', over which Bernard 'Bertin' Azimont was to preside until his retirement in 1975. The little bar was to become Ernest Hemingway's favourite haunt. He had discovered the Ritz Paris in 1925 after meeting Scott Fitzgerald in the 'Dixies Bar', a drinking hole for ex-patriot American artists and writers. The Dixies no longer exists, but Le Petit Bar, now known as the Bar Hemingway, continues to thrive.

A Frenchwoman invades the male-only Ritz Hotel Bar (1931)

If you watch the first few minutes of 50 Million Frenchmen, you get a rare glimpse into how these various male and female spaces functioned within a high-class hotel of that era. I'm not going to summarize the whole film, but it begins with an American man managing to steal a Frenchwoman's money. She tracks him down to the Ritz Hotel bar, which is obviously male only. She barges in anyway in order to confront the man. The men within the bar treat her with utter derision and contempt. We later see a small sign by the entrance which states that ladies are not admitted. However, we see gentlemen passing in and out of the so-called Ladies Bar with no problems at all. In fact, there are at least as many men in the Ladies Bar as ladies. 

This conforms with what many women observed during that time period. And it's the same double standard regarding boundary enforcement that we still see around womyn's spaces today. 

The "Manless Saloons" of Market Square

Market Square (Market Street just off Forbes Avenue)

The "Manless Saloons" of Market Square

Location: Market Square, Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, USA

Opened/Closed: Around 1914--though maybe just in the vivid imagination of a certain City bureaucrat

Confession: I don't know for sure if the "manless saloons" ever came into existence in "real" time or space. A definitive answer may await us in a dusty archive somewhere in Pittsburgh, but it's not forthcoming soon.

At any rate, I still want to share this apparent "idea" of "manless saloons"--a proposal (most paradoxically) cooked up by a male city bureaucrat who was horrified by all the brazen hussies who were invading the men's bars around Market Square (they were male-only BY LAW). Not only that, they were freely imbibing liquor,  becoming intoxicated, and apparently engaging in (hetero)sexual encounters. The nerve!!!

So like many men who are freaked out by women doing their own thang, he decided to rein in those tipsy tarts and control them, especially their sexuality. (Sound familiar? This is a very, very old story. Particularly for certain gentlemen who hail from the great Commonweath of Pennsylvania, if you catch my drift.)

Charles S. Hubbard was Pittsburgh's Director of Public Safety in 1914. And according to Mr. Hubbard, his department had been inundated with complaints regarding these wasted wenches in and about Market Square. A February 14, 1914 article in the Pittsburgh Press fills us in on the juicy details:

Many complaints have been received at the department of public safety about the way women of all classes and sorts congregated in certain Market Square saloons, loitering there for hours at a time, meeting men there, and using the saloons as a means of rendezvous. Visitors to these saloons were pretty certain to find, at any hour of the day or evening, a bevy of women and girls assembled, few of whom acted insulted if they were asked to accept a drink.

It was claimed that this shameful practice began with the simple and hardworking rural women (the "huckster women") who peddled their wares within the general vicinity:

The custom had its origin, it is said, from the huckster women, and those having stands in the Market House, who, being obliged to leave home early in the morning, got into the way of dropping into one or another of the saloons for a bite of breakfast, a cup of coffee, or a glass of beer, or both. This has been going on for years, and other women than the country women availed themselves of the chance to buy meals and drinks, and finally got to buying the drinks without the meals. Then, progressing still farther, these hangers on sometimes just went to the saloon and waited until some kind man would volunteer to buy it for them.

Market House (1916)

That's some slippery slope! You start with an innocent country lass hawking bushels of apples or peaches at market. She parts with a penny or two for a cup of coffee--or perhaps a sweet bun--to ward off the morning chill. And before you know it, all hell has broken loose and Market Square is jammed with juiced-up Jezebels!

But the Good Citizens of Pittsburgh needn't have feared, because the ever-capable Mr. Hubbard was onto the problem and already crafting a solution. As he sternly warned, if the saloon proprietors continued to violate Pittsburgh liquor laws, he would pull their licenses. The conversion of these "places of business" into "veritable places of assignation" would not be allowed under the vigilant Mr. Hubbard's watch. 

So naturally, all ladies would be banned from patronizing the saloons. Even the huckster women. Because we can't have "disreputable" women congregating there to "meet men with whom they have engagements, or meet strangers and make engagements with them." 

Market Street at South 12th Street (1910)

However, an exception was made for ladies patronizing the cafes (i.e. not the saloons) who were properly escorted by an authorized male family member. In other words, this rule basically targeted single women, or women in the company of other women:

Director Hubbard explained that this move is not intended to interfere in any way with men and women drinking together in cafes, so long as they go there together. A man will still have the privilege of taking his wife, or his sister, or somebody else's sister, to a cafe. But the woman will not be permitted to go without escort.

Naturally.

But then Mr. Hubbard hatched An Idea. Here he explains it in his own words:

"I have been considering the advisability of permitting women to use two or three of the saloons; they must use them exclusively, and no men must use the saloons patronized by the women. It has been suggested that we install women waiters and bar tenders.

I am imperative on one point, and that is, that no men shall use those saloons. There must be no intermingling of men and women where drinking is going on. That will remove the temptation, and save many a woman from a fatal misstep."

We shall now take a short break, so as to allow our lesbian readers to stop gasping for air. Or whooping with laughter.

Classic Lesbian Invisibility, is it not?

But it's also a fascinating example of what the foreign policy folks call "blowback," and what the philosophers call dialectics. By taking a certain action, you actually create the conditions for its opposite to spring forth. Let's explain this further. In the official rush to contain unauthorized (hetero)sexuality, by segregating women within their own drinking establishments, we carve out a space where women can mingle, laugh, and hoist a few brews amongst themselves. And by doing that, we create a place where woman-to-woman intimacy, passion, and connection--and yes, sexuality--can take root and flourish.

So basically, the prudish Mr. Hubbard outlined a prototype for a lesbian bar--and all before the U.S. entered the first World War. Probably NOT his intention in the slightest. But that's the beauty of blowback. Your wishes or aspirations have nothing to do with the final result.

It is revealing, however, that the unnamed journalist who reported on all this did not receive it within the spirit of Mr. Hubbard's dour and puritanical intent. As he declared with great incredulity, "whoever heard of a manless beer saloon?" His response: No one!

Women picketers on strike (1914)

Just think of man, the lord of creation, in the temporary absence of the suffragettes, espying a saloon, hastening thither to quench a dime's worth of thirst, or maybe a little more, and finding himself barred from entrance, by a sternly uncompromising legend reading "For Ladies Only, No Men Admitted!" Think of him peeping through a crack of the door and seeing the room filled with contented looking she-persons comfortably quaffing beer or other light stimulants, while trim looking waitresses whisk about the room taking orders, and getting them filled at the bar, behind which a couple of elderly female bar-tenders hold forth!

Could he believe his eyes? Hardly!

But he had better, and he would do well to tip-toe away from the Adamless Eden without starting any demonstration a-tall, else he will come into violent collision with the law as administered by Director of Public Safety Charles S. Hubbard and his cohorts.

Needless to say, our unnamed journalist did not interpret the "manless saloon" as a commendable state effort directed toward controlling women and their sexuality, but as a grand offense against men as a group and their collective right to police women as they saw fit. All the standard male reactions to women-only space are here in full display: the obsession with surveillance and spying on women's activities, the association of women apart from men with militant feminism or at least a lack of acceptable femininity, the full-blown anger at being "excluded" from women's presence--even though as men they routinely exclude women from their activities or spaces with no apology or reservations.  Our unnamed journalist didn't utter the word "lesbian." He may not have been fully conscious of what lesbianism was or what it meant. But he was aware--if only dimly--of something "lesbian-like" in this imaginary scene, and it really pissed him off.

Even if Mr. Hubbard was completely obtuse to the implications of his proposed "manless saloons," other men were not. So I suspect that Mr. Hubbard would have encountered huge political roadblocks in getting these "manless saloons" set up and running.

But that part of the story still needs to be uncovered before it can be told.

Postscript: Seems this story got a litttle bit of play around the country--even as far away as the west coast. See accounts in the Mansfield Shield (Ohio), the Daily Republican (Cape Girardeau, Missouri), the Oxnard Daily Courier (California), and the Eugene Register-Guard (Oregon).

The White Lion

The White Lion  (l967-68)

The White Lion

Location: 51 Grange Road, West Kirby, Merseyside, England

Opened: Dates back to the 17th century, became "ladies only" in 1975

Closed: Apparently still open. But it ceased to be "ladies only" sometime in the early 1980s.

By the looks of it, the White Lion is one of those classic Olde English pubs, the kind where you toss back a pint or two with your mates. In other words, a thoroughly laddish affair. But for a time in the mid 1970s, it was staked out as a womyn's space. The announcement that the White Lion was now "ladies only" even got picked up as an Associated Press story in March 1975:

A 17th century inn here has made history with a new sign outside one of its bars: "ladies only."

The White Lion Tavern in this northwest England town claims to have the only bar in Britain from which males are banned. The click of knitting needles has replaced the thunk of darts, and martinis perched on tables once splattered with the foam of ale.

Not surprisingly, the White Lion's owner is a woman. But Margaret Richardson doesn't claim to be a women's libber.

A visit to a London bar convinced the 36-year-old drama teacher that she wanted to open a place where women could go for a drink without being "humiliated, ogled or assumed to be an easy pickup."

The ladies bar, Mrs. Richardson admits, doesn't make money.

But she says she isn't worried. It is enough "that I've provided a place where respectable women can have a civilized drink without harassment," she says.

"When I went into that bar in London," she recalls, "my reception was such that I left without finishing my drink, and I was determined to provide a place where women could drink without fear of insult."

So with the support of her accountant husband, Mrs. Richardson turned the White Lion's games room into a female preserve.

It's fascinating how carefully this "ladies only" space is coded as heterosexual. All the way from the prominent mention of the knitting needles (in the 1970s?!?) to Mrs. Richardson's marital status and her "women's libber" denials. Was this a deliberate attempt at camouflage, or was Mrs. Richardson really intent on reserving this as a place for "respectable" wives and mothers? Did lesbians manage to claim this space regardless? The whole tone of this article comes across as remarkably disingenous for the time, as if this little English village pub existed in some pristine bubble that history forgot.

But the bubble finally pricked and it all came to an end regardless. A 2002 piece in the Liverpool Echo picks up the tale over 25 years later:

The White Lion stands on the hill that glides down into West Kirby's town centre, with Hilbre Island seemingly floating in the late December sea of slate grey sky. A return to harsh reality came with the realisation that the Lion has no car park - but the muncipal at the next major turning right provided a cheap (30 pence for three hours) and accessible (less than five minutes walk) alternative.

The inside is a traditionalist's dream more like a warm cave than a boozer. Lanterns shed dim light across the stone floors and walls, a pleasant musky smell from the coal fire beside the bar adding extra savour to the welcoming atmosphere and the excellent quality of the ale. And being a trad pub there is strictly a 'no young kids allowed' policy. We parked ourselves on wooden benches around the long oak table in a raised alcove facing the pumps dubbed the Royal Box by Christine Stokes licensee/manager of a decade-plus. "That's what we call the naughty table - it's always very noisy and rowdy up there'' explained Christine later, aware that perhaps we'd found our spiritual home. The Royal Box is also home to a potted history display for this building which has been serving ale for much of its existence since the 1600s.

Special prominence is given to a period through the late 70s and early 80s when it became the focus for national press attention as an early bastion of Girl Power.

The former licensee Margaret Richardson declared one of the alcoves a Man Free zone where women could drink without harassment. It has, however, been consigned to the knicker drawer of history because as Christine stated: "It's not necessary any more; women are far more confident these days than to need such things.''

Ah yes. The women-don't-want-womyn's-space-anymore line. They've outgrown it. After all, male harassment ended, um, around 1980, right? Doesn't exist anymore! So have some more Kool-aid, er ale, girls. Bottoms up!

Ladies' Cafe (Springfield, Ohio)

14 North Fountain Today

Ladies' Cafe (Springfield, Ohio)

Location: 14 North Fountain Avenue, Springfield, Ohio, USA

Opened/Closed: c. 1902-1903

Ladies' Cafe - Springfield, Ohio (1902)

Sometimes I stumble upon a lost womyn's space for which there is very little (readily available) information. Though I haven't found out much about the Ladies' Cafe in Springfield, Ohio, it still manages to intrigue me--partly because there is no reference to it being attached to a (male) restaurant or drinking establishment. But until we can find something more substantial--like maybe a photograph or biographical data on J.J. Clancy the proprietor--we'll just have to voyage back in our imaginations. 

The following ad appeared in the Champaign Democrat through 1902 and 1903. It's hard to read, so I'll retype the content below.

Ladies' Cafe

14 N. Fountain Ave., Springfield, Ohio.....

Fine Wines, Beer and all popular Refreshments served from Car in adjoining building. A pleasant cheerful place to meet your friends and chat. Cloak Room, Toilet-Rooms and Lavatory provided.

J.J. CLANCY, Prop.,

16 North Fountain Avenue, Springfield, O

Don't you wish you had a time machine just about now? If you get there before I do, could you order me a Red Head beer? Seems it was a well-known local brew of the time....

Important historical point:  New York City's Cafe des Beaux Arts Ladies Bar (founded in 1911) is typically credited with being the oldest "ladies bar"-- at least in the U.S. I think that with some confidence we can now say this is NOT true.

March 28, 2012: Just out of curiosity, I did a little genealogy research into J. J. Clancy (sometimes called James J. Clancy). He was born in England of Irish parents in 1859 and immigrated to the U.S. as a child. He became a naturalized citizen in 1880 and married a woman named Bridget Flannigan in 1891. They eventually had two children, Catherine and John. The first Springfield City Directory reference to Clancy having a "saloon" on 16 North Fountain Avenue occurs in 1894. Beginning in 1900, we see this place referred to as the "New Sample Room." By 1903, we see that Clancy's business has expanded to include14 North Fountain Avenue, where we know the Ladies Cafe was located. However, the City Directory makes no mention of the Ladies Cafe--not that this is terribly signficant, as the City Directory is limited to just bare-bones information. It appears that around 1908, Clancy may have consolidated his business to just the 14 North Fountain Avenue address. Does this mean that the Ladies Cafe was dropped about this time? Difficult to say without additional information. Then for a few years, his saloon is listed as being at 12 and 14 North Fountain Avenue. The saloon disappears from the City Directory sometime between 1917 and 1920, about the time Bridget apparently passed away. Of course, these were also the years when prohibition triumphed in the U.S.; the Eighteenth Amendment and the Volstead Act both passed in 1919, and weren't repealed until 1933.

But what we still don't know--and may never know--is why Clancy opened a Ladies Cafe, and what factors influenced his decision. Did his wife Bridget play a role in this? Or his daughter, who apparently never married?

Nor do we know what kinds of ladies patronized the Cafe, what they ate or drank, how they entertained themselves, what they talked about, how they felt about the place, or what relationships developed there. All that remains a mystery wrapped in an engma....

But as I look further into Springfield history, I can tell you one thing: we can safely assume that none of the patrons at the Ladies Cafe were African-American. Especially during the era in question, Springfield was a hotbed of white terrorism:

On March 7, 1904, over a thousand Springfield residents formed a lynch mob, stormed the jail and removed prisoner Richard Dixon, a black man accused of murdering a police officer. Richard Dixon was shot to death and then hung from a pole on the corner of Fountain and Main Street, where the mob continued to shoot his lifeless body. The mob then proceeded to burn much of the black area of town. In February 1906, another mob formed and again burned the black section of town known as “the levee”.

Realize that the lynching spot where Richard Dixon was tortured and murdered was just half a block south from the Ladies Cafe....

Winnepeg Beach women-only beer parlour

Winnepeg Beach

Winnepeg Beach women-only beer parlor

Location: Lake Winnepeg, Province of Manitoba, Canada

Opened/Closed: Winnipeg Beach was open from 1902 to 1964; the women-only beer parlour was open for just a few hours in 1928 before being shut down by the authorities. During this same time period (1902-1964), male-only drinking establishments flourished and in fact were typically protected as male-only space by law.

Winnepeg Beach was a beachside amusement park, a self-styled "Coney Island of the West." In its heyday, it drew up to 40,000 visitors a day. And like New York's Coney Island, it served as both a center for leisure and (heterosexual) courtship.

Nevertheless, though the dance halls, promenades, and beaches were gender mixed --given that they were the proper domain of courting (heterosexual) couples--some spaces were strictly segregated and reserved for the men. One of these areas was the male-only bar or beer parlour. As historian Dale E. Barbour observes, public drinking establishments were exclusive male territory from the very beginning:

In the early years of Winnipeg Beach, the hotels would have offered a place for men to drink. The Empress Hotel, for example, was famous for its "lavish bar." Women were discouraged from taking place in this male-oriented drinking.

Barbour later concludes:

Clearly, alcohol was considered to be within the male domain and the men going to the hotels were engaged in male sociability. This public sociability was ended in 1916 when prohibition was enacted in Manitoba. The rules were relaxed in 1923 to allow for the sale of liquor in government run stores and then again in 1928 to allow public drinking in licensed male-only beer parlours. The male-only beer parlours, and Winnipeg Beach did have one on its Main Street after 1928, make clear that liquor regulations were a gendered affair, with regulations predicated on fears that mixing men, women and alcohol would lead to immoral behavior. It would not be until 1957 that mixed-gender public drinking establishments were allowed in Manitoba.

So there can be little doubt that beer parlours were male-only spaces--by both social custom and legal statute--for nearly 60 years. No girls allowed!

Except for a few short hours in 1928, when a remarkable act of resistance occurred:

In 1928, Winnipeg Beach was home to Manitoba's only women's beer parlour -- which lasted just a few hours before being closed down over licensing issues. The men's-only beer parlour operated into the early '60s.

I'm still looking for information on who organized this women's beer parlour, and what women chose to come in and make this their home for the few brief hours of its aborted existence.

This is the kind of history that people forget when comparing contemporary "men's bars" and "women's bars"--or even male and female public spaces in general. Public female spaces--especially women's drinking establishments--have never enjoyed the same legal, political, and social protections as the men's spaces; they've never even come close in a rough equivalence. That's one reason they continue to be vulnerable and easily destroyed. That's why those who pressure the miniscule number of women's bars (or clinics or shelters) to be more "diverse" or open to all comers typically have a complete ignorance of  (or indifference to) the actual historical record. Within the larger scheme of things, men's spaces have not been subject to the same pressures, and in many cases, were actually protected and sanctioned by the State. Given the monopolistic control that men have had on public space from the very beginning (whether "mixed" or male-only), it's perhaps not surprising that even the right to female-only public restrooms or locker rooms is increasingly under siege in some quarters, especially in Canada. When a couple of gals can't even hoist a few brews together for more than a single evening (before the heavy hand of state intrudes and shuts down the bar), we can certainly see why no women's space--not even a toilet stall--can be considered truly safe or beyond challenge in the male-dominated political realm.

Cafe des Beaux Arts Ladies Bar




Cafe des Beaux Arts Ladies Bar

Cafe des Beaux Arts Ladies Bar

Location: 80 West 40th Street, New York, New York, USA

Founded: The Cafe des Beaux Arts was founded in 1901, but the Ladies Bar within the Beaux Arts Cafe dates to 1911.

Closed: The Ladies Bar closed in 1921, though the Cafe de Beaux Arts apparently did not close till somewhat later on. I am unable to verify the exact date.

Cafe des Beax Arts was one of the great "lobster palaces" of  turn-of-the century New York. Unlike the old-fashioned saloon which catered almost exclusively to working-class men, the newly glamorous cafe (and later the cabaret) was designed with the "smart set" man AND woman in mind. (Think Lillian Russell and Diamond Jim Brady. In fact, it was at the Cafe des Beaux Arts that the two had their legendary dining duel. The deal was this: if Lillian could match Diamond Jim course for course, he would grant her a big diamond ring the very next day. Lillian shrewdly removed her corset before the start of the contest, and apparently won handily.)

The creation of a mixed-gender setting for after-hours socializing was actually an innovative move at the time, as urban night life until then did not include "respectable" women (those women who did appear in bars were assumed to be prostitutes or otherwise "loose" women). Nevertheless, there was still a great deal of public anxiety over women consuming alcohol in the company of men, as bars were very much considered "male" spaces. For example, the Cafe Martin, which opened in 1899, did not admit women unless escorted  by a man.

Louis Bustanoby, owner of the Cafe des Beaux Arts, devised a rather ingenious solution to all this: the first known "ladies bar," which was regarded as "a freak" when it opened in 1911.

From the New York Times, October 12, 1913:

DRINKS CHOSEN FOR COLOR, NOT TASTE, AT WOMEN'S BAR

Milady Wants Tipples Which Will Match Her Gown or Her Eyes--Does Not Care So Much About the taste--Rainbow Rivaled by Products of the Drink Mixers to Meet Feminine Demand

There is a place in New York where there is a bar for women--just a regular bar, like the one the male person drops into to get his morning's morning. It is run exclusively for women, and no man can buy a drink there unless chaperoned by some member of the other sex.

This bar is patronized not by women of a doubtful class, but by women of social standing and assured position. It is the Cafe des Beaux Art, at Fourtieth Street and Sixth Avenue, of which Louis Bustanoby is the proprietor.

It differs from the bars run for men in certain particulars, one of which is that whereas night is the best time for business in a man's bar, the afternoon is the time when the woman's bar does its most rushing business.

The reason? Simple enough. The afternoon is the time for shopping and also the time of matinees. When Milady has made her rounds of the department stores, or has come out of the theatre, she feels the need of a little freshener and drops into the Cafe Des Beaux Arts and rests her dainty foot on the bar rail while Francois and Gabriel, the two bartenders, ask her whether it shall be a cocktail or a highball.

Sometimes she comes alone; sometimes she comes with a lot of women friends; sometimes she comes with her husband or some male friend, who could not get served if he did not come under her protective wing.

Then in the evening, after the theater, she is likely to drop in again with her escort; she has now become his escort, and she steers him up to the bar and asks him what he will have. But it remains broadly true that the afternoon is the best time for business at the bar.

The other day a SUNDAY TIMES reporter spent an afternoon and an evening at the Cafe des Beaux Arts getting revelations. He had been a little skeptical about the quality of the trade that the cafe drew, but a few minutes spent in the cafe removed his doubts and convinced him that the woman's bar is patronized by the best people in New York.

The Times reporter went on to make several interesting observations about the apparent differences between a women's bar and a men's bar--observations that are certainly curious nearly 100 years later.

First of all, despite the reader's first impression that it was mostly middle-aged matrons that were frequenting the Ladies Bar, that assumption turns out to be somewhat misleading. In fact, the same unnamed Times reporter goes on to mention that it was actually the "high-school girls" who came "in droves"--and they were seldom accompanied by young men. With a rather patronizing (anxious?) admiration, the Times reporter remarked upon the "practiced" way in which these young women would swing themselves on to the barstools and drop their feet on to the foot rail at the bar. Perhaps it is to be expected that he explicitly associated the casual ease with which these girls comported themselves with masculinity: the "matinee girls line up at the bar after the experienced manner of a crowd of male Broadwayites." Not surprisingly, he seemed determined to locate some sign of reassuring femininity in all this, which in fact soon appears:

It's a bar just like any other bar, but there are some things you see there you wouldn't see in a coarse masculine bar. For instance, five minutes after the THE TIMES reporter came into the place a nice-looking middle-aged lady took her place at the bar, called for a cocktail, and while Francois was making it she proceeded to power her nose. You never say that in a man's bar, did you? No, of course not.

She took her hat off, patted her hair and straightened it, and reached for her powder puff. By the time Francois had mixed the Manhattan she had her nose neatly powdered and her hat back on her head. She drank the cocktail, tossed the price haughtily over to Francois and departed.

Francois, the head bartender, explained to the reporter in extensive detail how fussy the ladies were with their drinks, but how they expressed a true appreciation for the artistry of a well-made "New Orleans Fizz or a Sazerac cocktail."

However, the owner maintained that the ladies weren't so much concerned with the taste of their drink as its other vaguely aesthetic--or even metaphysical--qualities:

"The women," said Mr. Bustanoby, "differ from the men in this--they don't care so much about the taste of their drink as they do about the color of it. They want it to match the color of their costumes, or the color of their eyes.

"The toughest experience we ever had was when a woman came in and wanted a cerise drink. That fairly staggered Francois, who is not easily staggered.

"They wanted pearl-colored drinks, amethyst drinks, opaline drinks, and it keeps the establishment busy trying to think up new color combinations."
 
"That application for a cerise drink," said Francois, "was not the really the worst experience I ever had, Mr. Bustanoby. I think the limit was reached when a woman came in and asked for a drink that would match, not her costume nor her eyes, but her soul. She said she had a baby-blue soul and she nearly drove me to desperation trying to prove to her that it was impossible to make a blue cocktail. She said it was the color of her aura."

A baby-blue aura? The ladies bar certainly attracted some, uh, interesting patrons.

The preference for distinctly "feminine" drinks carried over into the women's food preferences as well. While their husbands might content themselves with the standard "free lunch" bar fare of the day--the usual "corn beef and cabbage and the swiss cheese"--the ladies desired concoctions that were almost surreal in their originality: "Salted almonds which are boiled in deep sea water, ripe olives, and miniature sandwiches of pate de fois gras." The ladies' apparent inclination towards "cheap" perfumed cigarettes was also noted. This suggests that the ladies pointedly rejected any cultural pressure to conform to "masculine" bar culture norms, but felt free to invent and create new cultural norms as they saw fit.  

But for all their good-natured complaints, both Francois and Gabriel seemed quite protective of their lady patrons and their "space": "The only time either one of them gets stern is when some man approaches the bar and tries to buy a drink. Then he is firmly told that he cannot buy unless he is chaperoned by a lady." In addition, it seemed that the ladies could be quite territorial about their place within the bar. As Louis Bustanoby related:

"There was a mild-looking, middle-aged woman who used to come in here and insist on having the same chair every time--she wouldn't go to the bar, but always took her drink to a table. The chair came to be known as 'Mother's Chair.' She has stopped coming here now, but to this day if you ask the waiters where So-and-So is they will cast a glance around and reply, 'she is sitting in Mother's Chair.'"  

In that same vein, it was not unusual for the women to have their own "private glasses" reserved for them. Hearing a summons along the lines of "Jacques, get one of Mrs. Jones's glasses" was not uncommon.

Another interesting observation from the time is that the women tended to treat more, and were more inclined towards drinking as a social activity. As Louis Bustanoby explained:

"You hardly ever see a woman come up to the bar and take a lonely drink, as many men do. They want to drink in a crowd. You will hear them say, 'This round is on me,' and insist on it, and when the check is put down you will see them fight for it. Women put more value on being regarded as good fellows than men do."

However, in other respects, the ladies bar was remarkably similar to its male counterpart. Again, as Louis Bustanoby finally conceded:

"There really isn't any difference between between a man's bar and a woman's bar, except in minor details. Why, when a lot of women are sitting over at a table, and some one they know comes in, there will be a scream of 'Oh Bessie, come over here and have a drink with us,' just as you would see in a man's bar." 

However, the egalitarian comradery within the ladies bar did not carry over to the world at large, where women's lives were still tighly regulated and policed by men. And the customers knew it. However, the women also exercised their own form of resistance. According to Louis Bustanoby, "most"  of the lady patrons carried "breath killers" so "as to make their husbands and fathers believe they had not been drinking." These "breath killers" took the form of "scented chewing gum" and in some cases, "ripe olives"--"the best breath killers known to women."

Generally, the Times gave the impression that this new ladies bar was nothing more than an innocuous and harmless entertainment for bubble-headed society females after a strenuous afternoon of Broadway theater. That is not how all quarters of New York society regarded it. In fact, the Bustanoby brothers almost lost their license over this silly ladies bar idea. And it was only because they had a good lawyer--Jimmy Walker, the future mayor of New York--that they prevailed.

Why? The spector of female sexuality, of course--the promotion of "immoral tendencies." We see a hint of this in the Times article, when Louis Bustanoby was asked if there was "cabaret dancing" by his "women patrons." He pointedly denied it and insisted that if "they want to dance I let them go down [to] the cellar and do their dancing there."

In fact, the Cafe des Beaux Arts was not only famous for inventing the "ladies bar." It is also credited with inventing the "gigolo"--the attractive young man (or "lounge lizard") who was paid to dance with the ladies. As the American Weekly noted in 1942,

"The ladies bar at Bustanoby's, the first of its kind, attracted idle but gay women who had nothing better to do than dance with the gigolos the proprietor thoughtfully provided--the first of whom was Rudy Valentino."

Of course at the time, Valentino was nothing but a "penniless youth" with a flair for the tango. But the tango was widely considered an "obscene" or "lascivious" activity at the time.

Though there are lots of hints as to repressed heterosexual desire among the "neglected wives" at the "ladies bar," I have found no direct references to sexual attractions between the ladies per se. That does not mean they didn't exist. Historically, bars and taverns have promoted erotic contact between customers as part of the general revelry. So it's difficult to believe that as a prototype for the lesbian bar of the future, the ladies bar did not allow some women to find love for each other over their "forbidden fruit" cocktails.

Unfortunately, the ladies bar was an early victim of Prohibition, so we don't know whether it would have survived on its own or eventually gone co-ed. In July 1921, Andre Bustanoby filed for bankruptcy (his uncle Louis had died in 1917), and the Cafe des Beaux Arts went into receivership. The old "Bohemian element" had long departed, and the Cafe's "traditions of gaiety" just couldn't be sustained without "liquid refreshments." According to the Cafe's manager, the atmosphere at the ladies bar was "now that of a lunch counter."

How to experience the Cafe des Beaux Ladies Arts Bar at home: Why not invite some lady friends over for some old-fashioned turn-of the-century cocktails? I wish I could give you the recipe for a "forbidden fruit" cocktail, but that's no longer possible, as "forbidden fruit"--a brandy-based liqueur with a light citrus and honey character--is no longer made.However, you could always try a New Orleans fizz or a Sazerac cocktail. Failing that, you could settle for a somewhat less adventurous Manhattan. Now settle back with your drinks in hand and watch the glorious Rudoph Valentino strut his stuff.

Read more:

http://www.bustanobys.com/history.htm

Photo: The Cafe de Beaux Arts Ladies Bar. Photo is identified as being from 1907, but this is apparently from 1913 or around the time of the Times feature on the ladies bar.