Illustration from “Cincinnatians As We See ‘Em”
So, you might suffer under the delusion you have attended some wild parties in your life.
Really?
Have any of those wingdings ever made the front page of the newspaper? For three weeks of coverage? Did any of your social events ever require a statement from the archbishop? Or threaten to upset the mayoral election? No? I thought not.
Meet Moses Goldsmith. He was born into poverty. His parents were German Jewish immigrants, and Moses, born 1848 in Cincinnati, was the oldest of their four sons. As a teenager, Moses peddled shoestrings, popcorn and other items on the streets of the city. He saved his pennies and bought a storefront at Findlay Market from which he sold notions, toys, stationery and fireworks. The shop was quite profitable and Moses invested in real estate, eventually accumulating a portfolio worth around $500,000 by 1900 ($20 million in today’s dollars).
In 1897, Moses constructed a fine stone mansion at 836 Beecher St. in Walnut Hills. It was here that Moses invited some friends to a party in 1903.
The menu was substantial, with courses of halibut, beef tenderloin, roast duck, chicken croquettes and stuffed squab, accompanied by oyster cocktail, and asparagus. Palate cleansers and desserts included ice cream, Charlotte Russe and bonbons. Camembert cheese and coffee supplemented cigars. Libations ranged from punch to fine German wines to sherry.
A mandolin club of 22 young women, a minstrel group, two full orchestras and a handful of soloists provided the musical accompaniment. Every guest received a basket containing French lace handkerchiefs and a bouquet of orange blossoms. The Enquirer [March 22, 1903] was mightily impressed:
“The guests heartily applauded all of Mr. Goldsmith’s devices for their entertainment, and it was the unanimous verdict that the affair, in all its features, was the most elaborate and costly ever given in Cincinnati. It was a feast that the epicures of all Rome might have attended with pride.”
Who were Mr. Goldsmith’s guests? Boss Cox headed the list, George Barnsdale Cox himself, and the rest of the list were high-ranking associates of the Cox gang. Within 48 hours, the “Goldsmith Incident” as it became known, was the juiciest scandal in Cincinnati.
It wasn’t the food or the music that outraged the Queen City. It was the two women dressed as Catholic nuns who greeted the guests as they arrived. The Cincinnati Post [March 23, 1903] explained:
“The two girls who impersonated nuns are employed as substitutes in the ballet at a local theater. Both girls are extremely handsome, and made a decided hit later in the evening, when they danced an Oriental dance in costumes less saintly than those prescribed for women who have renounced the world.”
The Post described the habits as those worn by the Sisters of Mercy. The Enquirer described them as belonging to the Sisters of Charity, but both papers agreed the women were dressed as some sort of nun, and Mr. Goldsmith was quite pleased with the effect. According to the Post, he said:
“Yes, it was a new idea. Thought I would give my guests a taste of church first and then show them the houchee couchee.”
The Goldsmith party took place Saturday evening, March 21. Cincinnati’s mayoral election was set that year for Monday, April 6. Boss Cox supported incumbent Mayor Julius Fleischmann for reelection. Opposing the Cox machine was a bipartisan “Citizens’ Committee” comprised of Democrats, Socialists, and liberal Republicans. Moses Goldsmith handed the Citizens’ ticket a delicious campaign scandal, and he handed Cincinnati’s newspapers fodder for the front page. The ink-stained wretches ran with it, publishing every burp of outrage and denial on the front page for two weeks.
From "Cincinnati Post", March 28, 1903
The political opposition accused Goldsmith of staging an orgy and the Cox party of endorsing blasphemy. This message resonated with the city’s growing Catholic population. Dr. Thomas P. Hart, editor of the Catholic Telegraph newspaper, let fly with a scorcher:
“What sort of man is he who, maliciously and without the semblance of an excuse, casts a reflection upon the pure Catholic sisterhoods, whose members have, at all times, shown themselves to be the good guardian angels of humanity, whenever and wherever their services were in demand.”
Between the lines, Hart made sure his readers understood that Moses Goldsmith was Jewish and so was Boss Cox’s favored candidate for mayor, Julius Fleischmann. The electorate turned its baleful gaze upon Cincinnati’s Jews, prompting Rabbi David Philipson of the Mound Street Temple to proclaim:
“Unfortunately, and as a usual thing, no Jew can do anything reprehensible but that the fact of his being a Jew is called attention to. We have protested against this time and again, but the world has not yet learned the lesson that the individual Jew who offends should be judged and denounced as an individual and not as a Jew.”
The Cox machine, watching this religious prejudice slop onto their candidate, appealed behind the scenes to Cincinnati’s Archbishop William Henry Elder to say something, anything, to defuse the mounting antisemitism. Henry C. Wright, in his 1905 book, Bossism In Cincinnati, reports that the archbishop complied:
“An appeal was made to Archbishop Elder to make a public statement that Fleischmann’s father had befriended the Catholic Church, and the incident had no bearing on the candidacy of the son. He would not speak at first, but later published such a statement. This smoothed the troubled waters somewhat, and eased the consciences of the Catholic voters who wanted to support Fleischmann.”
The Citizens’ ticket was led by Melville E. Ingalls, president of the Big Four Railroad and major investor in the 16-story Ingalls Building, the first skyscraper in the world. Ingalls was scandal-free and a Unitarian and he largely avoided mentioning Goldsmith, his guests, or the ersatz nuns, in his campaign speeches.
Moses Goldsmith’s guests, however, spent a great deal of energy in what would later be called “damage control” or “spin.” Early on, several were quoted as denying there were any women dressed as nuns at Goldsmith’s party. Those women were dressed as nurses, obviously. Someone undoubtedly remarked that nurses dressed in white, while the “houchee couchee” dancers were clad in black. This led Mr. Goldsmith’s guests to actually buy an advertisement in the papers with a new theory:
“As the early guests reached the house the front doors were opened by two female attendants, attired in dominoes, and not the garb of a Sister of Charity. The host may have intended to represent this order, although he disclaims any sort of intent, but if he did so none of his guests had any knowledge of it.”
A “domino” is a character in the Italian commedia dell’arte, clad in a luxuriant black dress and wearing a black half-mask. Hardly convincing, but at least the color was correct.
Having unleashed a scandal into the political arena, Cincinnati’s newspapers found themselves forced to defend their coverage. The Cincinnati Post, in a front page defense on April 2, actually quoted their competitor, the Enquirer, which reminded readers that Moses Goldsmith proudly called the newspapers’ attention to his bogus nuns and bragged about it.
Boss Cox, cornered by the Enquirer [March 27, 1903] a week after the event, claimed absolute ignorance of anything that may, or may not, have transpired at Moses Goldsmith’s house on the prior weekend:
“I can’t tell you because neither Mrs. Cox nor myself was present.”
When the votes were counted, the entire affair was exposed as a tempest in a teapot. Fleischmann was reelected with a plurality of 15,000 votes. Ingalls and the Citizens’ Party carried only a few heavily Catholic wards in Price Hill and the West End.
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