Century of Butte Stories

Jew Jess - Butte's Premier Pickpocket/Prostitute

By John Astle

(Stories celebrating the millennium and featuring stories from Butte's newspapers during the past 100 years.)

During the early 1920's, according to news reports, Butte was the home of one of the country's incomparable pickpockets. It was universally agreed by big city police officials, who came to town to pick up prisoners, that the world's "smoothest dip" belonged to a woman of Butte's red light district. She was known as Jew Jess,' a prominent madam/prostitute who reportedly was born and raised in Butte. Jess had fingers that moved with lightning swiftness.

One well-known Butte man, before a crowd of a dozen friends, bet the price of a champagne dinner that he would go to Jess' place with a $5 bill pinned in a fob pocket and a loose silver dollar in his hand, to purchase a bottle of beer. He said that the notorious woman would not be able to steal the $5. He returned minus the $5 bill and the silver dollar. The dinner cost him $150.

Another man about town who wagered $50 that Jess wouldn't be able to pick his pocket, returned after buying a bottle of beer minus the $10 he had in his hip pocket. "I sat on the bill and she still lifted it," he said. "probably when I first entered the place." He shook his head, "I've seen a magician pull 20 rabbits from a derby hat, but he was a dirt farmer compared to Jess."

Frank Hickman, who ran the Success Cafe until it closed in 1924, recounted a story about a sheepherder who came in one day and bought a sandwich. He left the cafe and walked east on Galena Street when he was stopped by a frail woman, who, holding a cigarette in one hand, asked him for a match. As the sheepherder gave her a match she lifted his wallet from the inside pocket of his coat with a movement so deft and swift as to defy observation.

The woman, Jess, then slipped the wallet to another woman. The second woman bungled the wallet, the sheepherder saw it, pulled a pistol and shot at her feet. The woman dropped the wallet and ran. He didn't even suspect the little old lady who had asked him for a match. Meanwhile Jess disappeared as though the sidewalk had swallowed' her.

Another story told of Jess being brought before a police magistrate on the usual charge of petit larceny and vagrancy. The evidence was weak. The man who accused her of picking his pocket was not able to prove the charges, and the judge was forced to let her go. Jess, in gratitude, threw her arms around the judge and hugged him. Embarrassed, his honor finally disengaged himself and tried to rearrange his disheveled clothing. Shortly after Jess left, he discovered his watch, wallet, tie pin, and lodge emblem were missing.

A policeman was sent to arrest her, but not a trace of the missing articles could be found. Jess, indignant, asserted her innocence, and with no evidence to convict her, the judge was forced to release her again.

Jess became so famous, or infamous, that the police refused to allow her to rent any place in the restricted district. Hounded by the police and known to thousands, Jess continued to work under these handicaps.

Then one day, like the young gunfighter come to challenge the fastest draw in the west, a young woman arrived in Butte from Idaho and started as a box rustler at The Casino. She was known in Wallace, Burke, Gem, and other Idaho towns as The Virgin.' Within a week she had dipped' customers, bartenders, and even lifted money from the other women in The Casino.

The reason she came to Butte was revealed by a policeman from Wallace. A big burley miner got half drunk at Jake's Dance Hall in Gem, Idaho where The Virgin' was working. She had a reputation throughout Coeur d'Alene as a smoother dip' than even Jess. The miner bet he could buy the woman a drink and not have his pocket picked.

He went upstairs to her room and bought a drink for her and for himself. "We'll have another," he said and reached for his money. His pocket was empty. The Virgin' started for the door. The miner grabbed her by the hair. "I've lost the bet," he shouted, "I don't give a damn about the money, it's my pride." He pulled out a gun and shot. The Virgin' ducked her head and he shot his own fingers. She ran outside, got a ride to Wallace, and took the first train to Butte.

After a couple of weeks, the Butte police decided that it was too much work trying to keep track of both Jess and her competition, so they gave The Virgin' a floater out of town