A woman of questionable heritage, fortuitously schooled in female and theatrical arts at which she excelled, Miriam Leslie (one of her many surnames) rose from Bowery to the big time in the Gilded Age, a seminal period in America’s history when war was over and fortunes were being made. Betsy Prioleau presents Miriam’s life in fine detail, from her undistinguished birth to her remarkable legacy.

Miriam once said that she “never had any childhood,” referencing her father’s failed investments and desperate moves to foul and frightening neighborhoods, from New Orleans to the streets of New York City. She somehow “joined” her family --- no one knows quite how --- suspected to have been the child of one of her father’s slaves. She doubtless learned the ploys of women’s wiles from within her own small clan. An early and fateful meeting was with Lola Montez, a famed actress and spiritualist who, for reasons of her own, took Miriam under her wing.

"Prioleau frankly reveals Miriam’s unabashed lusts and self-seeking proclivities, while extolling her strengths, seeing her as a woman whom history unfairly forgot."

By the time she was in her early 20s, Miriam had definite notions of how she should present herself --- with a haughty exterior and fashionable finery, makeup designed to disguise her darker skin color, and an aggressive, egocentric stance in all matters, even those of the heart. In a time when women’s rights were in their nascent stages and females were expected to do as they were told and not enjoy sex, Miriam became a flag bearer for a totally different ethos. By the time she garnered her third husband, publisher Frank Leslie, she was ready to take a strong hand in his business. When it was almost on the verge of bankruptcy, she brought his Illustrated Newspaper to sudden prominence with photographic coverage of the assassination of President Garfield. 

Prioleau frankly reveals Miriam’s unabashed lusts and self-seeking proclivities while extolling her strengths, seeing her as a woman whom history unfairly forgot. One undeniable reason for a closer look at this paradoxical figure is Miriam’s final, substantial act. Her will left the bulk of her fortune to women’s rights activist Carrie Chapman Catt, to whom she referred as the “splendid general of suffrage.” This is despite the fact that in her journalistic career, Miriam could be disparaging or seemingly ignorant of newsworthy left-wing causes, often choosing instead to praise the financial magnates and their unalloyed power grabbing, in which she was often a participant. Arguably, men whose flaws mirrored Miriam’s were lauded in the annals of the Gilded Age --- since questionable morals were a masculine virtue --- and Miriam simply mimicked them to her personal and professional benefit.

Prioleau, who has gained fame as an author, radio personality and historian, feels certain that her protagonist merits our attention because she was “visible, engaged, fulfilled, and at the forefront.”