Ellen Atwell starts a fight, 1846

“One of the G’hirls.” Evening Mirror [New York, New York] 18 December 1846; p. 3.

At 1 o’clock this morning, a very nice young gentleman was taken from a porter-house in the 5th Ward, by Officer Eldridge, and escorted to the station house, he having been engaged in a regular set-to with some other young bloods. Upon arriving at the lock up, Capt. Perry, whose eyes are peculiarly wide open to all such juvenile operations, at a glance discovered that some dubiousness was wrapped up in the affair, and, on investigating the matter, it was ascertained that our youthful hero was none other than Mlle. Ellen Atwell, one of the lady boarders of Madame Adaline Miller, of 126 Church street! This monstrous development horrified every policeman in the office, and the fair cause of the disturbance was instantly locked up in one of the most secluded and darkest cells in the establishment! O tempora!

“Mdlle. Ellen Atwell.” Evening Mirror [New York, New York] 19 December 1846; p. 2.

This young fancy blood who was found in a porter-house in the 5th ward, night before last, dressed in male apparel, has, we learn, been for some months past, employed as an errand boy, in a fashionable Tailoring establishment in Broadway! She is a Baltimore demoiselle, fair but frail. We have no space for the entire story to-day, but—thereby hangs a tale.

“We have noticed.” Brooklyn Evening Star [Brooklyn, New York] 21 December 1846; p. 2.

We have noticed in the New York papers of last week two or three instances of females getting themselves into trouble and into the Tombs, by putting on male apparel, going into rum shops and creating disturbances. We find in the Herald the following, which we think pretty conclusive that when a woman sets herself out in earnest to “cut a swell,” she can beat the men any time:—

The attention of one of the policemen of the 5th ward was called towards a “muss” created in a porter house about 1 o’clock on Friday morning, between several young bloods, when from words they got to blows, and the aid of the officer was called into requisition, which resulted in the supposed ringleader being taken to the station house before Captain Perry; who soon ascertained that instead of being a male, it was nothing more than a female dressed in male attire, by the name of Ellen Atwill, a boarder with Mrs. Miller, 136 Church street. After being further examined in the private apartment designated for such purposes, she was locked up in one of the cells, to be taken the next morning before Justice Drinker. But on taking her to the police office she persuaded the officer to allow her to go to her boarding house, and exchange her dress. This the officer agreed to do, and allowed her to go up stairs, he following after to see that all was right. Upon entering the bedroom she soon changed her male dress for her own, and stepping towards the outside door, slipped out and drew the door after her, and locked it, leaving the policeman inside a prisoner, and herself at liberty; and making the best use of her legs, made good her escape. The policeman, after creating some noise was let out by the old woman who keeps the house, but too late to obtain possession again of his prisoner.

“The Beautiful Errand Boy.” National Police Gazette [New York, New York] 26 December 1846; p. 3.

A year or more ago, a young and attractive female arrived in this city from Baltimore. Her name was Helen Jones. Like her namesake of Troy, she was rather free with her favors, having had the reputation of a frail one before she made this city her home. After boarding in several houses in Leonard and Elm streets, during which, owing to a liason of some weeks standing, she assumed the name of Ellen Atwill, she finally took up her abode at a house in Church street. Here, during the early part of last summer, Ellen became one of the celebrated pantalette girls—Misses of apparently tender age, dressed in short neat frocks and pantalettes, who made Union Square and the Washington Parade Ground the theatre of their exploits by day.—There with hoop and skipping rope, they palmed themselves off as young Misses just escaped from school; and, during the evening, floated around the lower Wards—at Castle Garden and the Park—and driving a thriving business in the trade of prostitution.

While engaged thus ingeniously in her career of frailty and sin, Ellen was picked up, one evening, by the son of a fashionable tailor in Broadway, named W—n, and in a day or two, a young lad of prepossessing appearance, made application to the father for a situation in the store as an errand boy. Somewhat interested in the handsome youngster, the parent gave him employment; and, of course, the new comer soon became a vast favorite with the son. They were, indeed, scarcely ever separated, and for some months the tailor’s pretty messenger might be seen, each evening, promenading with the tailor’s son. This pleasant dream for both, continued until one night last week, when the dashing errand boy of the Broadway tailor, was arested by some of the Fifth Ward Police, for a noisy demonstration in Church street, and on being taken to the Station House, an examination a la Police, disclosed her to be the veritable Helen Jones, in male attire! Helen was locked up for the night, but on her journey to the Tombs the next morning, she, by some means, managed to inveigle her star conductor into her old quarters in Church street, where she gave the policeman the slip, and we have not heard that she has since been arrested. This tale of the “female errand boy,” goes far to prove that truth sometimes is as strange as fiction. Helen is one of the g’hirls still, though she has tried hard to be one of the bo’hoys.