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As Detective Tricklebank crouches down in the front bushes of his latest stake-out, he can hear nothing but the distant sound of the tramcars travelling up and down The Parade. Although it's only just after seven o'clock in the evening, the streets of this small seaside suburb are quiet and deserted. Strangely, though, an unusual number of men, alone or in small groups, can be seen stealing up the dark streets. They all appear to be hurrying in the same direction, to one house in particular on Freeling Street, the very house that Detective Tricklebank watches with his partner, Private Detective Munns. Keeping their eyes trained on the front door, they wonder if the rumours are true and, on this decent little street in Island Bay, a house of ill-fame is polluting the neighbourhood.
N.Z Truth - The National Paper Logo
Freeling Street in World War I (top left). The Parade is in the foreground, and Cornwall Street, (now Medway Street) in the centre right. Detail from postcard mailed 1918.
Suddenly, a young woman, Mary Morgan, comes out the front door. She is not alone. The two detectives watch as a man accompanies her out onto the street. Judging from reports by local police, their suspicions are immediately aroused as to the nature of their relationship. Tricklebank signals to Munns that they should follow. Creeping out from their hiding place, the two detectives discreetly trace the pair, following them down Cornwall Street [now Medway Street -Ed] and to the Parade. They watch as the man gets on a tram to town and Mary, barely waving goodbye, walks across the road to a local shop. Two men, one of them a uniformed [armed forces] officer, wait for her outside. She greets them briefly, obviously in a hurry to head back. The detectives follow the threesome back along the Parade and to Freeling Street, and watch as they enter the house and go into a front bedroom. The lights go out.
Ten minutes later, Detective Tricklebank, unable to see from his position in the bushes, moves closer to the house and peering through a window he sees a scene that is enough to confirm the shocking rumours: an officer, a civilian and another woman are in a bedroom together. The woman, Gertrude McEwan, is in bed. Throughout the evening, the detectives witness at least eight men and women, none of whom are married to each other, in the front bedroom, either in pairs or small groups. They hear bottles being opened and lewd remarks ring out. On this quiet street in Island Bay, there is a house of ill-fame.
On 3 November 1917, the NZ Truth published a lurid article about a 'sensational" police raid at a private house on Freeling Street, Island Bay and the subsequent trial at the Wellington Magistrate's Court. The police and private detectives watched the house over a period of weeks and 'had seen many men, soldiers and civilians, persons who were in no way connected matrimonially or otherwise with defendants, arrive at the house' (NZ Truth, Issue 646, 3 Nov 1917: p. 5). The house was alleged to be a brothel.
Detective Tricklebank was in charge of watching the house almost every evening for two weeks, in order to gather evidence of 'gross misconduct that would prove this house was being used for the purposes of prostitution. The atmosphere was social, the occupants lively, with frequent evening visitors. Eight out of the fifteen nights that he was on watch, various men came and went. Liquor consumption was a regular occurrence and sometimes Tricklebank could hear singing and music from his hiding place outside. Young women walked around in dressing gowns, with their hair down, welcoming these strange men into their bedrooms. The detective kept a record of the disgraceful behaviour that was happening night after night. For example, one evening at 8.40pm, 'Collier went to the front bedroom with a man named Wilson. Witness later saw Wilson kiss Collier.'
Map of the area
Following the stake out, on 19 October at 10:45pm, Detective Tricklebank executed a search warrant with local police. The report in the NZ Truth of his evidence captures the drama of the moment:
“They [the police] entered the house at the back door... then Sergeant Wade entered. The girl Morgan screamed out. Sergeant Wade read the warrant over to Collier, who replied: "Pity we can't have a few friends here without this trouble.”
The result: five young women were arrested and jointly charged with a serious breach of the War Regulations. Under the War Regulation Amendment Act 1916, it was illegal to keep or assist in the management of a house of ill-fame, or in other words, a house that was for the purposes of prostitution. Gertrude McEwan, aged 26 and married, was charged with being the keeper of the house between the dates of 4-18 of October. Rene Manley, also married, and two single women, Thelma Collier and Mary Morgan, were charged with assisting in the house's management and Vera Malcom was charged with nothing other than simply living there. All five of these young women pleaded not guilty. Indeed a lot of the evidence that was presented against them seems not to suggest prostitution, but rather general socialising. The girls seem guilty of nothing more than drinking, smoking and playing the piano to entertain their ‘friends'. Perhaps, these young women were guilty of nothing except having fun. In fact, this is exactly the defence their lawyer, Mr. O'Leary, used to try and get them off the charge:
The position they were in was the result of indiscretion and was not a deliberate attempt to commit any offence. They had been a bit sportive, maybe, and had allowed their friends to call and there was music and liquor, and maybe impropriety took place on occasions. They were all young, McEwan the eldest, being only 26.
Supposedly the impropriety the detectives witnessed was not a case of prostitution but completely innocent (although not entirely wholesome) behaviour. Mr O’Leary even claimed there wa a difference between a ‘house of ill-fame’ and a ‘brothel that was run for financial gain’
Mr. O'Leary then addressed his Worship. He said that in view of the fact that the court had already found that the house was a house of ill fame, he would submit that there was every indication that the house was not run as a brothel for the purpose of gain... Maybe on one or two occasions there was immorality, but that did not make the house one of ill-fame.
However, Mrs. McEwan certainly knew of a reason to tip toe round in the neighbourhood. On 9 October at 10:10pm, Detective Tricklebank got close enough to her back door to hear a conversation between her and one of the visiting men:
... one man told her [Mrs. McEwan] that he would have to catch the last [tram]car. She said, 'Come along any afternoon. You will find somebody home. There are only four of us staying here, and I have only my personal friends out here. You have to be very careful these times owing to the war regulations. I never allow anybody here without [us knowing] them personally.
Also, there's the fact that a range of men sneaked up to this house regularly from the tram stop in the main shopping area on The Parade. Some would loiter outside the house or on the street waiting to be accompanied inside by one of the girls; others would go straight round to the back door and knock, asking to be let in. On 11 October, at about 8pm, Detective Tricklebank watched as Collier stood in the front door and looked down the street before leaving and returning with two men. The next night, two men arrived at the house themselves, just after 8pm.
Donnelly brought a bottle of whiskey with him. Donnelly asked the girls if they would have 'a wine’. At 8.40 pm Donnelly said to his friend, 'You had better take a walk'. The girl Morgan and the man then left the kitchen and went to the front bedroom.
In the late 19th and early 20th centuries, the New Zealand Government's policy towards prostitution was one of tolerance and regulation. Laws were enacted in order to control the sex industry, not to eliminate it altogether. However, this policy of control was clearly gender biased, aimed solely at the women who were prostituting themselves and not focused in any way towards their male clients. It was women who were subjected to the invasive legal measures that resulted in violation, punishment and a loss of freedom. The government was obviously concerned at specifically controlling female sexual behaviour.
In New Zealand, the first major oppressive prostitution reform was the Contagious Diseases Act 1869, which empowered police to subject any woman to a genital examination whom they suspected of being a 'common prostitute'. The examination was compulsory and carried out by a police surgeon, by force if necessary. If the examined woman was found to have a disease she was detained in a 'lock hospital', a jail-like hospital ward. Thus, not only were these women physically violated, but their personal freedom could be taken away.
This Contagious Diseases Act was the result of anxiety over the spread of venereal disease in society, yet it targeted only the sex workers and not their male clients. In fact, in a way, it was seemingly beneficial to the clients. By attempting to prevent the spread of disease, the government appeared to be making 'paid for casual sex' a safer pastime for men, or at the very least legitimising a double standard of morality.
Prostitutes were believed to be dangerous predators, the breeding grounds and transmitters of venereal disease. It's no surprise that the Act was controversial and suffered severe opposition from women's rights groups. These women fought desperately for the elimination of this sanctioned double standard and their efforts were not in vain: the Contagious Diseases Act was repealed in 1910.
Other legal reforms were enacted during the late 19th century which again punished prostitutes, but allowed their clients to walk free. The Police Offences Act 1884 introduced punishments for any 'common prostitute' who loitered or importuned in a public place for the purpose of prostitution. Likewise, the Criminal Code Act 1893 established punishments of up to two years hard labour for people guilty of owning or keeping a place of any kind whatsoever that resembled a brothel. However, this Act did not include a house occupied by one woman who practiced prostitution alone and consequently there was a large increase in one-woman brothels. All of these legal reforms were subject to individual interpretation by magistrates and police constables.
Legislation such as the Contagious Diseases Act 1869, though repealed before the Freeling Street case, sets the background for judgement of prostitutes one hundred years ago. In fact, evidence used in defence of one of the accused, Mary Morgan, was a medical examination:
Doctor Gilmer was called, and said that an examination of the girl Morgan showed that she had very little if anything to do with men. Dr McEvedy gave similar evidence.
While there is nothing to suggest this examination was carried out in the manner of forceful, compulsory, police investigation, it demonstrates the seriousness of the charge and what was required by women to prove their innocence. It can be assumed that in 1917, the prevalent attitude in New Zealand was that prostitutes were both corruptors of society and corrupted victims of the evil profession.
After 1901, there were no legal reforms until WWI when the War Regulation Amendment Act was established in 1916. The object of the relevant clause was to prevent brothels from being established, 'especially during war times'. Anxiety over prostitution grew stronger during the war, mostly out of concern for the health of the soldiers, but also due to families and households having been disrupted enough by the difficult times. Once again, women took the blame and measures were taken to control prostitution, in order to keep the men, especially the heroic soldiers, fighting fit. Indeed, in the case of the Freeling Street brothel, none of the male 'clients' appear to have suffered any negative judgement, either legal or moral. It was purely the five young women who were targeted and criminalised.
Therefore, a century ago, it was not so much about the illegality of the profession but the collective attitude of society towards this 'social evil'. Prostitutes were stigmatized as morally reprehensible. The Magistrate, in the case of the Freeling Street occupants, was most concerned with the consequence of such a charge for respectable young women. Prostitution was a stain on the reputation, a moral stigma that would have ruined the lives of these young girls, especially Rene Manley. Manley was only 21 and her husband had recently left for the front. More importantly, her father was the Mayor of Carterton. Her case was taken first and included character witnesses:
Witness had known Rene Manley, the defendant, since she was a little child. She had had the advantage of a good education and careful upbringing. During all the time witness had known her, her conduct had always been exemplary. She had a frank nature and had perhaps been a little bit spoiled by her parents, but witness could not understand how she came in her present position. The news came as a thunderclap to her friends in the Carterton district.
Manley, herself, was astonished at the charge made against someone in her position. When the police arrived to arrest her along with the other four women she protested, saying "Fancy a mayor's daughter being arrested for this?. The guilty charge had to be supported by proof that she knew prostitution was taking place at her residence. Her defence lawyer claimed that even though she might have known about immoral conduct taking place, “she was an innocent girl who did not know it occurred for hire. She was simply boarding in the Freeling Street house and when Mrs. McEwan was taken ill, she looked after her two small children”.
Counsel entreated his Worship not to impose any penalty which would practically ruin the future of this young married woman. Her husband was fighting for us at the front. In this matter she had acted with extreme stupidity.
However, neither the prosecutor, Inspector Marsack, nor the Magistrate believed her to be completely ignorant of the ill-fame. As the Magistrate argued, 'I do not think anyone could have lived in the house without noting what was going on.' Likewise, three of the other accused women, Collier, Morgan and Malcolm were otherwise respectable. They had jobs in the city or received board money from their separated husbands. Prostitution was therefore unlikely in their cases because it 'was well known that when a woman started on wholesale impropriety she abandoned any other work'.
It was a 'painful situation' for any of them to be in. And the Magistrate felt it was a situation that would have too negative an impact on these four young women, if they were imprisoned for it. Manley, Collier, Morgan and Malcolm were therefore convicted but discharged, with the condition that each woman received reformation by their respective families and behaved themselves.
A house of ill-fame at Island Bay
Gertrude McEwan's case, on the other hand, was a different story. Unlike the others who had evidence of steady incomes or allowances, she was separated from her husband and the court was unsure of how she managed to support herself in the past months. It was certainly plausible that she was earning a living through prostitution and brothel-keeping. She was the only one whom the Magistrate felt it necessary to imprison for the maximum penalty of six months:
His Worship: I look upon Mrs. McEwan's as the worst case, and I think she has gathered these young girls around her for the purpose of effecting their ruin. I have no difficulty in dealing with Morgan and Collier. It is very sad to see young girls living in this way.
A month after the court trial, the NZ Truth published another article on the life of Gertrude McEwan, detailing the divorce proceedings pending against her (NZ Truth, 1 Dec 1917: p. 5). Mrs. McEwan had apparently left her husband in Wanganui and therefore the charge of prostitution was even more shocking because it meant she was technically committing adultery.
And so, just under a century ago, the quiet streets of Island Bay were momentarily disrupted by a scandal. Crowds of people filled the courtroom to hear the Magistrate bring the case to a close with a statement, that perhaps voiced what they all were thinking: "It is very sad to see young girls living in this way.
Sources:All quotations in this article are taken from this NZ Truth article, unless otherwise statedEldred-Grigg, S. (1984), Pleasures of the Flesh: Sex & Drugs in Colonial New Zealand 1840-1915 (Wellington: Reed). Macdonald, C. (1986), 'The 'Social Evil: Prostitution and the Passage of the Allen & Unwin), 13-34. NZ Truth (via http://paperspast.natlib.govt.nz)
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