Belle Cora was by now the leading den mother in San Francisco.  She was also clearly the most well-dressed in the city with her handsome and stylish Charles by her side. Their establishment, The Cora House demanded the highest fees in the entire industry, nation wide. As a result, her customers were the creme de la creme of society. The best of the best.

“Like Cleopatra, she was very beautiful, and, beside the power that comes with beauty, she was rich. Flaunting her beauty and wealth on the gayest thoroughfares, on every gay occasion, with senator, judge, and citizen at her beck and call. She was what she was, and God only knows how or why.”

When a guest of her establishment, you drank the finest champagnes imported from France. At her table, you would eat the finest foods you had tasted. And but of course, you would also enjoy the company of what many considered, the finest woman in the state. You were to be treated like royalty. Judges, Mayors, Politicians and aldermen from across the country, traveled to the city to join in on the fun, alongside most of the city’s most prominent members at The Cora House. 

As if by a curse, disaster soon struck again. It happened exactly just before The Cora House had their one year anniversary. Just like their first business, The New World Saloon in Marysville, Belle’s three story wooden parlor house in San Francisco had burned to the ground. She was left again, to start from scratch. Inside, she felt a familiar pain as her heart fell into pieces. Belle however, chose to show no weakness to her employees as she began delegating the tasks of a new rebuild. She thought of her friend Charity, and the last time she saw her. Time is money.  

Off of Pike Street, there was a grand two story brick building that was newly built there on Waverly Place. There were other houses of prostitution in this area, and Belle intended to move in, and dominate them all. She quickly settled on choosing the location, and began importing furnishings, fine liquor the finest linens and draperies. Once things were up and running, the gold once again, flowed in like a river.

There was no residence more opulent in San Francisco. Even the Methodist minister, Reverend William Taylor, who had repeatedly attempted to humiliate the local prostitutes, spoke of Belle Cora’s place with high regard. “Magnificent without, beautiful within, it was furnished with Brussels velvet, silk and damask. Heavy furniture of rosewood, and walls hung with beautiful paintings, and music from a pianoforte, melodeon, and harp, no house more prominent or beautiful for situation in the city.”  The new Cora House was the most extravagant of any of her previously owned lavish dens of vice, without rival.

Belle hosted numerous events for the highest class of clientele. If she was throwing a party, it was the number one place to be and be seen for the high society. There was an understood social acceptance of the purpose of her home there on the Barbary Coast. Sins were glorified, even celebrated at the balls thrown in The Cora House. And that was they way these rich white men liked it. One summer evening after a late party, Charles again proposed to a drunk Belle, and again, she denied him. “Must you keep asking?”  Growing up as an American female, Belle was raised to believe she would be bound to the man she married, with no legal access to her own money or property. She would indeed surrender her rights to her future husband. The Married Women Act passed when she was seven years old, but even then women struggled in attempts to be socially and financially independent. It all had now left a bitter taste in Belle’s mouth. She was still unmarried, yet had become quite wealthy on her own, and she was proud of this act of independence. Business went on as usual in the city. Eventually, a committee was formed to investigate prostitution in the area. They found exactly one hundred houses offering in the surrounding blocks of Broadway, Stockton, Kearney and Clay. The Cora House though, was overlooked. Her clientele included some of the hired men on the team. 

In these men’s eyes, her immaculate house was different. It was of a better quality. The Cora House played an important role in the city and Belle had an important part. She had now gained social and even political power in San Francisco. Holding the ability to whisper in the ear of many legislators in California, and they surely enjoyed her sweet voice.

Charles and Belle’s wild lifestyle continued without a hitch for the entirety of the booming years of the rush. The couple continued to gain riches beyond imagine. That was, until one chilly night in the fall of 1855. Hurt feelings would trigger a chain of events that would forever change the future for the woman of confidence, and in fact, San Francisco. It would take days before Belle Cora would realize this.

At The Cora House, excitement was brewing. Belle hurried around the home, preparing for her biggest party of the season. She lit the candles and chandelliers around the room and looked over her ladies. The gorgeous woman that were hand selected by Belle, looked perfect, wearing the finest gowns in the city. She thought back to her first days, lost and destitute, sewing gowns in the brothel in New Orleans, she truly had come so far.

On the other side of town, the U.S. Marshall, William Richardson and his wife were sitting at a large dinner table, most of the seats were empty. The couple was hosting their own soiree that evening. The roasted chicken was drying out as it  grew colder on the table. His wife nervously looked to him, and to his friend Dr Mills. He was the only guest in attendance.

Back at The Cora House, over fifty members of high society had swamped the rooms, the party was going wild. Live music shook the walls, the crowd’s dancing shook the floors, they sang loudly, and spilled the booze, the women, half dressed by the night’s end. A night that would never be forgotten by the guests of Belle and Charles.

Mrs. Richardson sat at her silent dinner table, horrified to realize, no one else would be walking through their door tonight. She looked to the many bottles of expensive champagne that were waiting on ice. As the hours crept by into the night, and no one arrived, she began growing angry. Shelving the unopened bottles hastily, she thought, how could this be? She had been planning this dinner party for weeks. 

Dr. Mills, the best friend of the Marshall was a man in the know. The doctor pulled Mrs. Richardson into the kitchen. He told the anxious woman of the party being thrown at The Cora House on this same evening. Perhaps, maybe, the guests had instead gone to the party, for a more frivolous night? 

The god fearing Richardson was so infuriated she became nearly homicidal, crying on her front steps. She tossed her champagne glass into the street, and drank from the bottle. How dare these upstanding citizens prefer such a disgusting spectacle than her morally sound dinner party? She drank herself into a stupor, murmuring throughout the night to her husband, “that fucking Cora hussy”.

The New American Theatre was in the center of town and it was the first palace of dramatic art in San Francisco. A large brick and wooden building, on Sansome, between the streets of California and Sacramento. On Thursday night, November 15, just a few nights after the Cora’s wild, and the Richardson’s non existent parties, the New American theatre was sold out. All of the town's society was in attendance. The beautiful venue had boasted grand white pillars, and above, an ornate oval domed ceiling with an enchanting golden sun revolving around it. It was the opening night of the show “Nicodemus, An Unfortunate Fisherman”, and it was starring The Amazing Ravels, the greatest pantomime artist in the world.

The large orchestra pit held lower priced seats. Behind it, was a box, draped with velvet curtains. There, the female guests who in society’s eyes, were not proper ladies, were placed. The high society flocked to the first balcony, with even more seating was found in the higher balconies above that. The theatre held 2000. 

Belle and Charles, made their grand entrance into the main parlor, stopping to visit with their acquaintances. Talking their way to the bar. Entertaining the theatre patrons that gathered around them with their elaborate stories. Under the intricate crystal chandeliers that held hundreds of glass pendants, catching the light of scores of oil lamps, Charles led Belle by the hand to a corner. 

He pressed her up against the velvet draperies that were swinging from the ceiling. Ruffling the curtains that were held in place by the golden beaks of hand carved eagles. Charles Cora kissed Belle, the love of his life. Everything was perfect with her. As they stole each other’s kisses, and sheepishly gazed into one another’s eyes, the US Marshall Richardson with his wife and her friend entered the New American theatre. They crossed the main parlor and made their way to the balcony that held the most expensive seats in the house. 

The audience was then notified that the show was about to begin. Charles and Belle made their way back to the bar for one more round of whiskey, asking to be escorted to where they would be sitting. An usher led the love struck couple away and opened the curtain to the first balcony, where Charles was told would be the best view for his beloved lady. As they made their way to their seat, a few nosey men in the orchestra pit had noticed Belle, and began to make a commotion. Soon, nearly everyone on the floor beneath them was looking up at her, smiling and winking.

Sitting in front of Belle and Charles, was the US Marshall with his wife, Mrs. Richardson and her friend. The Richardson’s had not realized the Cora’s had entered the box. The two women were now peering into the crowd, who was full of men, looking up at the balcony. The ladies sat pink cheeked, and grinned from ear to ear at each other. It was unusual for the Marshall’s wife to draw such attention. She was clearly eating it up. Her friend was massively impressed with the admiring gazes. It soothed Mrs. Richardson’s recently bruised ego until, she realized, they were in fact not in awe of her, but that fucking Cora hussy, who was sitting behind her.

Mrs. Richardson, shaking, leaned over and whispered in the Marshalls ear. The hair stood on the back of his neck as he then turned around to look up at the Coras. He was steaming. His wife had been scandalized by this criminal couple, once again. He stood up, and stormed out of the box to find the manager of the New American theater.  

The show had begun before Richardson had found the man in charge. He demanded the Cora’s be thrown out of the theatre. Or at least be sat in the pit with the scummier patrons of the town. He screamed furiously, as the manager escorted him back to the balcony. The US Marshall made his demands and the manager, who still, was remaining calm, insisted they would in fact stay. This handsome couple are regular patrons of the arts, he explained, Belle and Cora chuckled in their seats. 

The argument grew louder, and soon, the pantomime act was disrupted by the yelling. It had stopped completely and the audience’s attention was toward the balcony, once again. A humiliated Richardson was then escorted out of the theatre with his wife and their humiliated friend. As they were pushed out, the U.S. Marshall hurled a nasty insult at Belle Cora, who hushed the man with her finger, and turned back to the audience and gave them a wink.

Two days had gone by, Richardson and his wife sat at home in shame. Boiling. They had not shown their face outside of the home since the evening at the The New American Theatre. Mrs. Richardson, devastated that her and her friend were not even able to see the performance of Nicodemus. That fucking Cora Hussy.

William gathered the courage to go for a walk. He needed to finally get some fresh air. As he strolled down Montgomery Street, he noticed a little too late that Charles Cora was walking in his direction. As the men passed each other, Charles locked eyes with Richardson, and before he could look away, a drunk Cora blurted out, Ma’am, your pussy is showing.

Richardson, being out of practice after sitting at home in silence with his wife, was dumbfounded. He was unable to come up with a comeback, nothing came out of his mouth, he did not even slow his pace. Charles continued on his way, winning that time. The Marshall began to walk faster. He tried to think of a good comeback as he headed back home to get himself ready for what would be a long night. 

At the Cosmopolitan Saloon, Dr. Mills was playing a game of backgammon with Charles Cora.  Richardson, entered, and saw his friend sitting with his new enemy. Pushing his way to the bar, he ordered a bottle of champagne. He uncorked the bottle and approached the gambling men. Dr. Mills, who did not like to see a quarrel, officially introduced the two men. Cora and Richardson reluctantly shook hands and together, downed the entire bottle of champagne, and then some. 

Drunk, the two men then went for a walk in the foggy sea air. What started as a friendly conversation, turned into a slur of backhanded comments from Richardson. Charles stopped and turned to the Marshall, and once again called him ma’m, and once again told him his pussy was showing. Cora I should slap you in the face. Charles laughed, and walked back into the saloon. 

Richardson hastily followed him back into the bar. Stumbling, he made his way to the center of the room and called everyone’s attention. After the men finally looked his way, he made an announcement to the crowds of drunken men. Gentlemen, I have just promised to slap Charles Cora in the face, and now I shall do it in front of all of you fucks. The men in the bar pulled William out of the bar and walked him home for the evening. 

Back on Montgomery Street the next morning, Richardson paced up and down the street, waiting to run into Charles Cora. He was tired of being publicly humiliated by the Cathloic Italian man. He sought to finish the feud once and for all. From gambling hall to gambling hall, he roamed for hours into the late afternoon. Promising revenge on Cora to all who crossed his path. 

The Marshall walked down Kearney street, then made a turn at Clay. It was then that he finally saw Charles Cora walking towards him with Ragsdale, a mutual friend. Cora reached out to William to shake his hand and once again, curiously, the men shook on it, and went in for a drink to seal the deal. Inside of Hayes Saloon the two men made a toast to new beginnings. They drank there for a few hours, and later made their way back to the Cosmopolitan for another bottle of Champagne.

  After later going their separate ways, Charles was gambling in the Blue Wing Saloon. A man who he had recognized, but did not know, told him he a friend who was waiting outside, and he wanted to talk to him.  Charles made his way outside, and never returned. 

Back at The Cora House, Belle watched for Charles all evening and had finally given up on the idea of waiting up for him any longer. She turned down the lamps to go to sleep, lonely, and already missing her lover.