Big Ethel’s

Brothel performed public service in Keewatin’s early days

By Shirley Sandrel

Originally appeared in Kenora Enterprise July 13, 2003

Reprinted with permission

You won’t read about  in the history books but stories of Keewatin’s most famous brothel are still told. Sometimes, the tales are whispered. Occasionally they are accompanied by a wink and a nudge, but always they are told with the understanding that the raconteur of the moment came by these tales secondhand.

“Some of the boys admitted to losing a muffler on the dirt road to Big Ethel’s,” said one fellow, quickly adding, “When they were driving a friend out there.”

And in spite of the fact no one ever (apparently) visited Big Ethel’s as a customer, the brothel operated for more than four decades, north of the highway on the west edge of Keewatin.

According to the oral history, the brothel was built with support from the Keewatin Lumber Company and originally operated by a woman named Annie around the turn of the twentieth century. The police and the nearby village tolerated Annie’s presence because having a brothel to service the needs of the single miners and transient workers who flooded the area at the time ensured the safety of the ‘decent’ womenfolk.

Among the tales handed down is how Annie and her girls came to town for their weekly shopping excursion. Friday and Saturday were their busiest work days so the ladies shopped during the week. They always came out as a group and were said to dress, in the context of 1901 sensibilities, quite provocatively.

At some point, Annie was succeeded by Ethel Whitehead. Neither owner seemed to have any trouble recruiting help and, indeed, it appears Big Ethel’s may actually have been part of a working girls’ circuit. New women arrived by train from Winnipeg and were taken to Dr. Gunne’s for a checkup. If they were healthy they made the jaunt to Big Ethel’s. If not, they were put on the train back to Winnipeg. At the same time, ladies who had served their time at Big Ethel’s were delivered to the eastbound train where they would depart for Sudbury.

In those days, women turned to prostitution for very different reasons than they might today. In 1901, a malicious rumor, the death of the family’s provider, or a tarnished reputation could force an unmarried woman into the trade simply as a matter of survival. Often, the women used the work as an opportunity to better themselves. Girls worked at Big Ethel’s and then left having married or saved enough money to change their way of life.

The brothel was housed in a plain two-storey wooden structure built on a concrete foundation. There is a story it burned in the 1930s. If that’s true, it must have been rebuilt because without a doubt it still existed and operated into the 1940s. During the Second World War, Big Ethel’s shut down due to the drop in business and increasing public censure. Ethel Whitehead retired to Winnipeg to drive a streetcar.

Eventually, the building was torn down and the material used to build a house on Ottawa Street, which still stands today.

Crumbled Remnants

For many years, the foundation remained visible, but eventually the property’s new owner bulldozed it and all that’s left are a few crumbled remnants of concrete.

With the help of Lori Nelson, curator at the Lake of the Woods Museum, the Enterprise discovered one documented mention of Big Ethel’s. In the 1901 census, there is an entry for a household that included Anna Ethan. Ethan’s occupation is listed as ‘Social Evil Keeper’, while six other women are listed as ‘Social Evil Inmate’. Also listed are two cooks and a musician.

According to the census, the ladies averaged wages of $500 per annum ($1,000 for Ethan). That amount was on a par with prospectors and farmers and higher than cooks, musicians and teamsters.

For children of the day, Big Ethel’s was mysterious and forbidden. So, naturally they tended to gravitate toward the house. Caught trying to sneak a peek in the windows, Ethel would shoo them away, but was also known to hand out candy to the curious youths. Some were even recruited to perform odd jobs like chopping wood after school.

But she wasn’t popular with everyone. In fact, Ethel is said to have gotten into something of a cat fight – or cathouse fight – with one of her girls. The result was her employee established her own brothel in Pellatt.

Ethel herself is described as having been very clean, very big and very partial to strong, descriptive language.

Apparently, when she was preparing to leave town, she asked a furniture dealer for a price on the house’s contents. The amount the dealer offered didn’t suit Big Ethel and she let loose with a stream of profanity that impressed even the man who had driven her on her errand.

As a culture, we don’t like to rely on oral history. But the consistency – and in many cases – the reluctance with which the stories are told lend them legitimacy. But that reluctance also means Big Ethel’s was never documented in the same way as other early Keewatin businesses. And those who do remember are still hesitant to talk about it no matter how much time has passed, bound – no doubt – by the rules of decency with which they grew up.

It’s a shame really. Big Ethel’s is a colourful and substantial part of the history of Keewatin and in danger of being lost. And, even today, when the stories are told, mixed in with the winks and the nudges, there is also wonder in the teller’s voice for the daring and persistence of these women who, along with the miners, loggers and other pioneers, carved out a life for themselves in the wilderness.