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Part 2:
Being caught the first time didn't discourage Betsy Bigley. Charles Hamlyn, the Woodstock newspaper man, wrote this about the woman in 1904:

"On November 21, 1878, a young woman called at a barber shop in Brantford, Ontario, and asked to have her hair, which was hanging over her shoulders, cut off. This having been done, she asked for a false mustache. It was not until she attempted to raise money on a gold watch she had that the police were called in. Her father was communcated with, and she was taken home."

Later she purchased an organ, and tried to pay for it, in part, with a note signed by Reuben Kipp, a prominent citizen — except it was Betsy Bigley who forged Kipp's name.

This time she was arrested and put on trial, but was judged not guilty by reason of insanity, thanks to her antics in the courtroom.

Next stop: Cleveland
The trial was in 1879, the same year her father passed away. On her own, Mary Ann Bigley, her mother, may have had enough work on her hands without dealing with a disruptive daughter, a criminal who'd been ruled insane. Another daughter, Alice, had gotten married; she and her husband moved to Cleveland. Betsy asked Alice if she could live with them until she was settled in a new country.

Alice said yes, and Betsy repaid her by making Alice and her husband the first victims in the next phase of her life. There came a time Alice and her husband had to return to Canada for a visit.

"I left my sister Elizabeth in charge of the house," Alice told reporters in 1904, "and during my absence, she mortgaged all the furniture, giving her names as Mrs. Alice M. Bestedo. I came back and learned of her doings, but did nothing in the way of prosecuting her. She went to live in several rooming houses and even there borrowed money by mortgaging furniture that did not belong to her. From one house to another she went and repeated the operation, using different names. I paid many of he debts and squared matters for her. At that time I began to think that she was unbalanced."

New name, and a new con game
According to George Condon, it was at this point Betsy began calling herself Lydia, perhaps a play on "Lizzie," one of her nicknames from childhood. It wouldn't be long before Lydia Bigley became a clairvoyant named Lydia Devere, or De Vere, as several folks have spelled it.

In 1882, her luck seemed to change. She met a young man described by Condon as an "up-and-coming doctor named Wallace Springsteen," who fell in love and proposed to the woman who, during their brief courtship, successfully kept him from finding out about her clairvoyant business. Instead, she convinced Springsteen she was an heiress, owner of a large Irish estate willed to her by an uncle. Her apparent wealth may be why the Cleveland Plain Dealer wrote about the wedding that took place on November 21 before a justice of the piece.

Contradicting Condon's description of Dr. Springsteen is Thomas Crowl, author of the 2021 book, "Queen of the Con." Crowl says Springsteen was a 40-year-old widowed physician from San Francisco. Once again, take your pick.

I found this photograph (left) on Owlcation.com with the story, "Cassie Chadwick: World Famous Female Con Artist." It was captioned "Cassie Chadwick first marriage," though it looks like a still photo from a silent movie.

Also arousing my suspicion is something Alice York told reporters in 1904: "Elizabeth was married in my house to W. S. Springsteen."

On the other hand, Crowl says the wedding took place at the home of prominent local business man.

The above photo looks like the wedding setting is a chapel of some sort. The man performing the ceremony looks like a minister. Karen Abbott wrote that they were married before a justice of the peace. Conclusion: forget this photo. No matter, the vows exchanged by Lydia Bigley and Wallace Springsteen didn't matter.

A good thing they skipped the honeymoon
What happened next was anonymously — and inaccurately — illustrated for a syndicated newspaper series, "The Female of the Species," that on April 27, 1959, featured an article about Cassie Chadwick by Allen Riches, copyrighted by the London Express, and syndicated by United Features.

According to Riches, the bride refused to pose for a photo at the wedding, but a reporter managed to take a picture, perhaps the one above, peprhaps not. In any event, a photo appeared in the newspaper, and Lydia was recognized as the young woman who'd swindled several people, including the owners of all the furniture she'd stolen.

"A few days later," wrote Riches, "while the happy couple were at breakfast, a loud, rude knocking disturbed them. When the door was opened, indignant men, newspaper clippings clutched in their hands, thrust in, demanding payment for furniture mortgaged to them."

Condon described the scene differently, saying it occurred when Dr. Springsteen came home from work "only to find that he couldn’t even fight his way into the house, there were so many creditors jamming the porch, the hallway, the living room, and even, one presumes, the bedroom." One of Lydia's visitors that day reportedly was Alice York, who, until she saw the newspaper article, didn't know the whereabouts of her thieving sister.

Here is another conflict of information, obviously, since Mrs. York recalls the wedding as having been held in her home.

Crowl says the ceremony was delayed by the arrival of one of Ms. Bigley's creditors, a money lender named Hobday, who demanded payment, and if that's true, then Dr. Springsteen should have called off the wedding, because ...

The marriage of Dr. and Mrs. Springsteen lasted only seven days ... or ten ... or thirteen, depending on the story you read. Legally, it lasted three months, which is how long it took Dr. Springsteen to obtain a divorce. However, said Condon, the ex-Mrs. Springsteencame out of it a few thousand dollars richer, thanks to money she borrowed from lawyers she hired to obtain six thousand dollars she claimed the doctor had promised her. And it's likely correct to say she visited more than one lawyer, and asked each one for a loan. This was something she would do even after she worked her big con on the banks of Ohio a few years later. The woman went through more lawyers than Donald Trump.

According to the New York Sun (December 9, 1904), Alice York said that after the divorce, her sister "returned to Woodstock to live on the farm with my mother. There she took to writing letters to friends to say that Elizabeth Springsteen was dead. Many people believed her."

She didn't remain in Canada very long, though details of her life over the next few years are fuzzy, reported differently from story to story.

In 1883, she arrived in Erie, Pennsylvania, setting up an incident that is included in most versions of Cassie Chadwick's story. Whatever sent her to Erie is unknown, but while there she posed as the wealthy, but ailing niece of Civil War General William Tecumseh Sherman. She claimed her first name was Mazie. (Some sources say it was Marie, but Mazie received more mentions in the stories I found.)

The gist of her Erie scam is the same in every story. She feigned illness with a trick that caused her gums to bleed. She said she was on her way home to her big house in Cleveland, but wasn't well enough to resume traveling just yet, and, alas, she was temporarily in need of funds.

Folks in Erie were generous, and soon the young woman was well enough to leave. As days passed, the Erie people tried to contact her in Cleveland about being repaid. Instead of money, they received a note saying Mazie had died. As an extra touch, the con woman enclosed a tribute she had composed to the deceased.

The Chicago Daily Tribune (December 2, 1904) printed the note that was sent to the good people of Erie:

“Dear Mazie passed away March 27 at 2:30 in the morning. She carefully placed her full trust in God. Poor Mazie’s remains were taken to her native home in Canada for interment and were followed to their last resting place by a large and sorrowing concourse of friends.”

Detour to Trumbull County
Next, according to that Daily Tribune article, Mazie gave way to Madame La Rose, a clairvoyant, and briefly resided in Cleveland at 359 Superior Street, later moving to Prospect Street. Perhaps there she was visited by a Youngstown-area farmer named John. R. Scott.

In any event, there is agreement that, in 1884, Scott became her second husband.

According to the Daily Tribune, "A separation followed soon after the marriage, and Scott was minus his farm."

This is just a thought — I have nothing to support it — but I did find articles that said Mme. Lydia DeVere, one of Betsy Bigley's best-known aliases, was a clairvoyant who'd gotten into trouble in Painesville, a small city about halfway between Cleveland and Erie. I was unable to find any story that explained what that trouble might have been, but I suppose it's possible she felt the best place to hide for awhile was on a farm in Trumbull County, where she was known as Mrs. Scott.

One thing that seems clear in every story about Betsy/Lydia/Cassie is she was never broke.
It is the middle ground between light and shadow, between science and superstition and it lies between the pit of man's fears
and the summit of his knowledge ...You guessed it ...

Welcome to The Twilight Zone
There are periods in this woman's life that remain mysterious, and the one between her divorce from Scott and her move to Toledo is the black hole in the life of Elizabeth Bigley. All that is known for sure is she came out of this period toting around a boy named Emil, who almost certainly was her son, and even her sister, Alice, seemed to believe the father — and her sister's husband — was C. L. Hoover, variously described as a doctor, a very rich doctor, or a newspaper man, who most likely would not have been rich at all. This Hoover fellow may have been the only man who died during his wife's childbirth.

However, the Chicago Daily Tribune (December 2, 1904) offered this explanation:

It can be stated positively that the present Mrs. Chadwick was never the wife of Dr. C. L. Hoover. There is a Mrs. Hoover now living in Buffalo. Mrs. Chadwick, prior to 1880 lived with Mrs. Hoover, whose husband had died. Mrs. Hoover kept a boarding house at 123 Euclid Avenue, and Mrs. Chadwick was then known as Mme. Rosa.

The boy now known as Emil Hoover was born in 1886, and was the son of a well known attorney and Democratic politician, who died in Cleveland in 1898.

Several Chadwick biographers, including Ms. Abbott, say Lydia Scott, as Betsy Bigley was known for awhile, did marry a man named C. L. Hoover, who died in 1888. Ms. Abbott says Hoover left his widow an estate worth $50,000. Alice York indicated the same thing in one of her interviews in 1904.

However, most of the con woman's biographers, including Condon, say Emil Hoover was an illegitimate baby, and that his mother took the last name of a former landlady, and began calling herself Mrs. C. L. Hoover, claiming the boy's father, like the fictitious niece of General Sherman, had passed away. I assume the initial C stood for Cassie, though I've seen no explanation. Perhaps it was the landlady's first name.

I lean toward the illegitimate baby story, which could explain why she moved to Toledo. Since the father of her baby was said to be a married — and prominent — Cleveland lawyer-politician, she may have agreed to get out of town. She also may have blackmailed the father, or he voluntarily gave her a bundle of cash, which would explain how she received $50,000. Stories in old newspapers say she lived very well in Toledo, where she reverted to being Lydia Devere, a conniving clairvoyant whose name would soon become almost as famous in Ohio as her next persona, Cassie Chadwick.

According to Condon, Lydia Devere told various people she was the daughter of a British general, the widow of a wealthy earl who'd left her an annual income of $1,000, and the niece not of General Sherman, but of Ulysses S. Grant, the Civil War hero who'd recently been president. But her best lies were still to come.

However, next up for The Person Formerly Known as Betsy Bigley was her first prison sentence. It is one of the more documented periods of her life, and features a rather tragic figure, though some of the explanations for his presence are questionable.

For example, I don't believe Karen Abbott's contention that Joseph Lamb went to the clairvoyant named Mme. Lydia Devere and paid her $10,000 to serve as his financial adviser.

Others who've written about The Woman Who One Day Will Be Known as Cassie Chadwick, perhaps swayed by her appearance in 1904, can't seem to understand how the woman, even in her Lydia Devere phase, could have had such power over a man whose name invited ridicule and inspired many trite headlines. But Joseph Lamb foolishly allowed himself to be Madame Devere's puppet.

George Condon, mindful the woman, just 30 years of age when she met Lamb, was far more attractive than people would acknowledge years later, went for the obvious reason for their one-sided relationship:

"Eventually, Madame Lydia met a young, naive Toledoan named Joseph Lamb, an expressman, who found her irresistible. One of the lures that drew him close to her was her appreciation of the better things in life. The poor Lamb liked nothing better than an occasional session of fun and culture in the parlor of the enchantress. When their passion was spent, they would take turns reading poetry, and that was proof enough for him that he had found an extraordinary woman, as indeed he had."

Interesting, but probably overstated. The thing is, Lamb certainly was naive, but he wasn't young. When he met Lydia Devere, he was 42 years old, 12 years older than she was. He had a wife and five children, and was the manager of the United States Express Company's Toledo office. I believe their relationship was more innocent, but a lot more complicated than the Condon version. Lydia Devere simply took advantage of a very nice guy, who may have had some fantasies about her and felt a load of guilt. Meanwhile, she reeled him in slowly, pecking away at his good nature, his naiveté, and, most importantly, what little money he had.

I think what happened is explained in this story, which begins with Lamb under arrest, but no longer under Madame Devere's spell. He's finally seen the light, and tells all, though I wish the story included a reaction from the unfortunate Mrs. Lamb:

New York World, Monday, November 28, 1904
In his confession, he said he met Lydia DeVere several times on the street as he was going home in the evening. Then she came to the express office and sent a package of money to Cleveland. On this occasion she invited him to call on her. He did so and found her to be a modest, well-behaved woman. He was invited to call again and did so, always calling on his way home.

On his second call, she asked him to loan her money to go to Cleveland to see her sister, Mrs. Brown, who was ill. Lamb gave her the money, though he told her he could not spare it. She persuaded him that she was the widow of a wealthy man who had lived near Manchester, England, and left her an income of $1,000 a year. Later she told him that she had also married a young physician at Rochester, N. Y.

Lamb continued to call. She told him that she needed $1,500 for a surgical operation and asked him to raise it for her. He raised $1,000 for her in addition to $100 cash that he had on hand, and gave her his personal note for $275, which she cashed and bought a sealskin jacket with, he said.

He succeeded in raising $900 more, and the woman went to Philadelphia for six weeks for the operation, she said. On her return, he gave her $300, which he held as an election bet, and was later obliged to make it good with his personal note.

His affairs were now so complicated that she advised his giving her his notes for $500 and $700, on which she would raise money for him. He did so, and when the notes were presented for payment, she confessed that she had used part of the money to buy jewelry.

Lamb borrowed money from every one who would take his notes, giving the money to the woman.

Mme. DeVere told him she was Florinda G. Blythe, member of a prominent Cleveland family of that name and heir to a large estate.

Lamb’s reputation in Toledo was high, and Mme. DeVere gave notes to him to cash for her, among them the one for the making of which she was convicted. These notes, aggregating $40,000, purported to be signed by Richard Brown, of the firm of Cleveland, Brown & Company of Youngstown.

The finale came when the Brown notes were repudiated at Youngstown. Then there was the first angry scene between the two and Lamb said the woman lost her temper, and made it plain to him what a dupe and fool he had been.

In the trial, it was disclosed that Mme. DeVere had been a criminal since girlhood and had secured large sums by swindling in many parts of the country. She had been known variously as Mary D. Laylie, Mazie De Laylie, Lydia Brown, Lydia Clingan, Florinda Blythe, Lydia D. Scott, D. C. Belford, Mrs. Bagley and Mrs. Dr. C. L. Hoover.

Actually, her scheme was exposed by a bank in Cleveland, not Youngstown. In a lengthy piece on Cassie Chadwick, the Chicago Tribune (December 4, 1904) said, "The first intimation of the forgery came from Cleveland on January 12, 1890, when a message was received at Toledo that Richard Brown, a wealthy commission merchant of Youngtown, Ohio, went to Cleveland on a notice from a Cleveland bank that his note for $25,000 was due. This note proved to be a clever forgery. The First National and Northern Naional banks of Toledo each had notes of $5,000 for collection, both payable to the order of Florida G. Blythe. These notes were similiar to the larger one at Cleveland and the local bankers immediately became frightened and began an investigaion."

Madame Devere and Lamb were arrested, faced multiple charges of forgery, and went on trial. Lamb's attorney, Irvin Belford, then did something that had never been done before in a United States court. He admitted all charges, but pleaded that Lamb had acted while under "hypnotic influence."

Alice York, a sister of Betsy Bigley/Lydia Devere, may have thought all the hypnotism talk was nonsense, but the Toledo jury was convinced there was truth to it, and Lamb was acquitted. However, he lost his job with the express company, and spent the rest of his life making brooms and peddling them door to door. (He died of a heart attack in 1900 in the house of strangers while trying to sell them one of his brooms.)

As for Lydia Devere, her hypnotic powers did not work on the jury, and she was found guilty and sentenced to nine-and-a-half years in the Ohio penitentiary in Columbus.

Why she forged the name of an industrialist well known in Youngstown and Cleveland was puzzling. She may have had an interest in "iron masters," as the press referred to Richard Brown, because a few years later she'd go after the greatest iron master of them all.

But when newspapers, in 1904, looked back at the woman's career, they painted a picture of a woman who seemed to have it made in Toledo, and didn't need to mess with Joseph Lamb.

"She could be seen in the finest carriages driving about the city," said the Chicago Sunday Tribune (December 4, 1904), "and her entertainments were known as elaborate ... She began to secure large sums of money from various men. It is asserted that a prominent doctor gave up all and was completely under her control ... A bank president, since dead, was deceived, and how much he loaned her will never be learned."

Fourteen years earlier, in reporting on her forgery case, the New York World (January 15, 1890) wrote, "Her magnificently furnished house on Broadway has been constantly visited by the leading men of Toledo, and much apprehension is felt among them today for if the Madame were placed on the stand, she could tell much more than concerns Mr. Lamb's case."

Yet, years later, after Lydia Devere transformed herself into Cassie Chadwick, and her world suddenly collapsed, a reporter asked Irvin Belford about his one-time client Joseph Lamb and Lamb's relationship with Madame Devere, and the lawyer replied, "Lamb assured me there was never anything improper in their relations; that she was always in an invalid’s chair or in bed when he saw her.”

A prisoner like no other
From day one at the Ohio Penitentary in Columbus, Lydia Devere was a model inmate as she set out to secure her parole at the earliest possible date. Which doesn't mean she faded into the background. In Karen Abbott's piece, she says, "Even there she posed as a clairvoyant, telling the warden that he would lose $5,000 in a business deal (which he did) and then die of cancer (which he also did)."

She worked in the sewing department, making shirts for the male prisoners, dresses for the women. She also won friends and influenced people.

Mrs. Flora Kissinger of Columbus was a matron at the Ohio State Peniteniary in that city while Lydia Devere was an inmate. This is how she described the prisoner:

Deluth Evening Herald, December 14, 1904
"Cassie L. Chadwick, or 'Madame DeVere,' for that was the name I knew her under, was the mos remarkable woman I ever met in my life, and her escapades sice she left the penitentiary do not surprise me in the least. She was possessed of wonderful hypnotic powers, could bring to her men who were the cream of society, and by force of her power compel them to do her bidding ...

"Mind you, I do not say she hypnotized me, but I know she did others, and I was afraid of her. She occupied the assistant matron's quarters, held receptions for her gentlemen friends, when she would appear in the finest silks ... She always played the aristocrat, held herself above the other prisoners, and her power over the board of managers and other public men was so great that I was glad to get away from her.

"Alhough at times she was as fine a woman as one could meet, polite, kind and sociable. She had the most remarkable eyes I ever saw ... and a beautiful mouth. One minute she would be all smiles, and the next her face would light up with anger."

Mrs. Kissinger said Madame DeVere brought with her charms she used to create spells voodoo style while in prison. She said the inmate often covered a small icon with a black cloth, set it on fire in a small iron pan, and marched up and down corridors murmuring to herself. Perhaps she was putting a curse on a sister who lived in Toledo and had temporary custody of her son. Mrs. Kissinger said Lydia was particularly bitter about this sister, saying she kept the money that had been raised with the fraudulent checks.

Or maybe Lydia was casting spells on people she wanted to visit her in prison. The matron claimed several prominent citizens did just that soon after her performances.

She's paroled, thanks for a future President
The con woman must have had a few powerful friends, because she launched a letter-writing campaign, and after only three years secured her release, thanks to Governor (and future President) William McKinley.

Here's the kicker, though it didn't come as a surprise when I read it in the Rochester Democrat & Chronicle (December 9, 1904).

"Before a prisoner can be paroled, the law requires that someone must agree to give him employment. In Madame Devere's case, a letter from Alice M. York of Cleveland was presented, and it is now suspected that this letter, as well as most of the monthly reports to the warden which bore the name of Mrs. York were forged."

Another condition of the parole law is that a prisoner so released must not leave the state, yet Madame Devere spent significant time in Woodstock, Ontario. For awhile she worked as a traveling saleswoman for a millinery company.

But she settled in Cleveland and it wasn't long before she met the man who gave her the status she needed for a big-time con job.
 
Cassie Chadwick, Part 3
 
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