Letters to the magazine "London Life" 1924-1941

Forum rules
Communication only in English!!!
Messages in other languages will be deleted!!!
User avatar

Topic Author
Bazil
Старожил
Posts: 514
Joined: 01 Sep 2017, 23:35
Reputation: 283
Sex: male
Has thanked: 698 times
Been thanked: 630 times
Russia

Re: Letters to the magazine "London Life" 1924-1941

Post: # 24894Unread post Bazil
03 Feb 2018, 12:04

London Life May 30, 1931 p. 35
Handicapped But Not Crippled
Dear Sir, — I have just seen the letter from "Very Interested", and I am sure he did not read my letter too correctly, as in it I said that I can wear a 5 inch heel but I cannot walk on it for more than the width of a room, which is the few paces I referred to in my letter. I cannot walk with a five inch heel even with the aid of two crutches, and it is utterly impossible with only one.
I do not know how "Single High Heel" and "Single Crutch" can walk in 5 inch and 6 inch heels with one crutch. I have been trying to do so for five years.
I am sorry I have not written before, but I have had another visit to the hospital, and the cause will be ample answer to "Single Crutch's" last question.
During a heavy snowstorm in March I went to the door whilst using a single crutch and a 3 inch heel and I slipped on the ice on the step. As is usual, the first part of me to touch the ground was my stump. I have found out that it is always the same in a fall, as every fall I had in the first few months of my one-leggedness caused me to fall on the shortened limb.
The outcome was that my stump had to be shortened, and now it is only 8 inches from my trunk.
So I advise all my limbless sister readers to refrain from using really high heels in wet or frosty weather.
However, I am now assured that I can wear an artificial leg which will be absolutely natural in its action and appearance, but I am afraid that it will only be another case of the leg of Miss Kilmansegg — which went thump, clump, as she walked.
The coloured peg leg of "Hery Interested's" wife is a fine idea, and I think I will try it as soon as the stump has heeled.
I will send a photo of myself and heel in my next letter. Will any of you follow suit?
I should like to know how "Single High Heel" gets her one shoe at sample prices, as I have to pay full price for mine each time; but I can support her statement about the single stocking — they go twice as far.
I am afraid planter will never see me in the street wearing a four inch heel, as apart from the attention I should get I am never going to risk another fall such as the last one.
If you are not tired of hearing from me, dear Editor, please say so, and I will tell you some of my earlier experiences in crutch manipulation — and the earlier ones are amusing even to me.
But never, please, refer to me, as some people do, as a cripple, as I am certainly not one — I am handicapped in having only one leg, but I am as active as many of my two-legged sisters.
Yours truly, Helen Fivetoes

London Life May 30, 1931 pp. 44 — 45
Confessions of a Limbless Girl
Dear Sir, — You have published in your papers various letters at various times from legless girls, as well as stories dealing with cripples of various kinds. All these have treated the loss of a limb or limbs as an interesting experience and not as a handicap, so I think it might interest your readers exactly what it feels like to be a cripple. I am one myself, and I have innumerable cripple friends of all kinds and ages owing to having visited most of the big cities of Europe and America and having been in touch with various institutions and clubs for cripples.
First of all, it may interest your readers to know the mind of a person of physical abnormality is almost always abnormal also. Nearly all cripples are obsessed with an idea of their own inferiority. They are reserved, introspective, and frequently very sensitive about their disability, which makes them of melancholy and distinctly unattractive character.
This applies less to those who were born crippled than to those who lost a limb of faculty later in life. Frequently the former are delightful companions, especially those who are really seriously handicapped.
I remember a girl of 22 or so whom I met in Berlin. She was born completely without a right leg, while her left leg was no more than a foot in length and practically paralyzed.
She could only walk with the aid of a rigid steel instrument on her one leg, using crutches, of course, while she wore a special corset fitted with a saddle and prop on which to rest, rather as you would sit on a shooting stick.
In spite of the fact that she was unable to walk more than a few yards at a time, while the simplest everyday action, like sitting on a chair, was, for her, a real effort, she was one of the most cheerful people I have ever met. We used to talk frequently about the minds and characters of ourselves and our crippled friends.
Her conviction was that her body didn't matter — that by its being so malformed it set her mind free from all the material things of life. But she, unlike me, had never known what it was to be a normal girl with hopes of marriage, a home and children, and all the normal desires of a girl.
Here I had better tell you that I am 29, and was quite an ordinary person till I was 18, when a car accident deprived me of my right leg at the thigh and my left at the ankle. With an artificial foot and a pair of crutches I can get about quite well, though many of the things I do with apparent ease are really a considerable effort.
Like all other cripples I loathe sympathy and being a help when I can manage myself. I am quite hardened to stares — I get plenty of them — and have taught myself, after a great mental struggle, to talk quite openly and easily about my disability.
Incidentally, unlike most cripples, I realize that some men find physical disability actually attractive — I can tell them by the way they look at me.
I know a l5-year old girl of great beauty who has a withered leg which necessitates her wearing a boot with a 6 inch cork sole and irons both sides of her leg, who tells me that she is frequently accosted by strangers. But she is exceptional in that she is good looking. Most cripples are not.
They generally dress badly, and take no trouble with their looks. In addition, they wear a look of resignation to their fate which only arouses sympathy in the beholder — the last thing they want. For some reason, this is especially the case with those who have to use crutches.
Now, walking on crutches is a strain till you are thoroughly used to it, though I have proved that it needn't appear on your face. But unfortunately, it is impossible to prevent your shoulders becoming raised and thickened. I try and prevent this. I used to sleep in a most severe shoulder brace every night for years, but it was no good. Another disadvantage of crutches is that they rub your armpits sore sometimes and wear out your clothes.
To get over the former I wear a special camisole fitted with tiny sleeves and chamois leather under the arms; but I cannot prevent my clothes wearing, anyhow. For those who can use elbow crutches I suppose it is alright, but I don't feel secure on these with only an artificial foot to stand on.
I should also like to say that artificial limbs are by no means comfortable things to wear. The corset has to be laced very tightly, for one thing — to ease it is to run the risk of chafing the stump.



User avatar

Topic Author
Bazil
Старожил
Posts: 514
Joined: 01 Sep 2017, 23:35
Reputation: 283
Sex: male
Has thanked: 698 times
Been thanked: 630 times
Russia

Re: Letters to the magazine "London Life" 1924-1941

Post: # 24895Unread post Bazil
03 Feb 2018, 12:05

In hot weather I sometimes feel I could cry with the continual clinging discomfort of the corset that encases my stump from ankle to knee, especially as I generally wear a boot on my leg to hide, as far as possible, my shortcomings. And a change of the weather often seems to make my poor stump so tender that walking even a short distance is horribly painful. But this is enough, I must not whine, for after all I had relatively little real pain when I suffered my amputation.
A Danish friend of mine was less lucky. She used to be a pretty maiden— haired girl till she was involved in a tram car smash. She was pinned down in the wreck, her feet crushed beneath a piece of steel carried frame. Fire broke out, and for some time she lay there, the wreck burning nearer and nearer her poor imprisoned feet, and the steel grid getting hotter and hotter.
Finally the rescuers were driven back by the flames before she was released, and she was abandoned to her fate. It was night time, and no doctor had arrived — not that he could have helped her had he been there — and there she would have burned to death. But for a young forester who, as the flames enveloped her feet, rushed in and, with one or two blows of his woodman's ax severed her legs from her body at the thighs and dragged her to safety.
She says she fainted as the second blow fell — I hope for her sake she did. But, in any case, her skin is now white, and her face and eyes bear the trace of her ordeal as she sits for ever in her wheeled chair with not even an inch of stumps where her legs should be.
She is the most pathetic cripple I know, though there is another I have met whose story is nearly as horrible.
It started with a very small thing, — simply a gun going off accidentally which damaged her foot and necessitated the amputation of her first and second toes. She had missed them, but when she had practically forgotten the incident she felt one day an uncomfortable feeling in her foot, and as it persisted she went to a doctor about it. He diagnosed gangrene, and had to have her foot amputated.
All went well for a while. She learnt to walk with an artificial foot and then, just after I met her, she started to feel a curious numb sensation in her stump. For some time she said nothing about it, possibly fearing another operation.
Amputations are far from painless by the way. And then one day she asked me what she should do.
I had a look at her stump and though not a doctor, I saw something was very wrong by its color, and the upshot was that she lost her leg at the knee. But she had waited too long. The poison was in her blood; and hardly had she learnt to use her artificial leg before a discolored patch appeared on her remaining foot, and that had to go as well.
A year later I had quite a cheery letter from her, saying that she was in a nursing home after having both legs removed at the thighs, and some time later she wrote to say that she was learning to use her left hand, as her right had gone. Since then I have not heard from her; now, if she is still alive, I should not be very much surprised to hear that she has anything but four stumps instead of limbs.
But to return to rather more cheerful things, I must tell you an interesting fact that is not generally known. After you have lost a limb, you have a sort of ghost of it, and it feels as if it still were there. In fact, you can tell in what position your limb would be if it were not missing. Thus I can swing my amputated leg and waggle the toes of my absent foot.
Incidentally, I do this as I walk about as if I had a perfectly normal pair of legs. This is often very awkward before you are thoroughly used to the absence of a leg, and led my friend into a very laughable situation once.
She was very fond of "showing off" and doing things just as if she had not lost a leg at the thigh. One day she was punting a party of friends on the river when her pole stuck, and in the stress of the moment she snapped back on to her leg that wasn't there.
They pulled her out none the less for her ducking and she solemnly swore not to show off again, an oath which she breaks about twice a day.
But this is rather an exceptional case. Usually we try to hide our disabilities as much as possible, and for those of us who can do so successfully it sometimes lead to awkward situations. A certain friend of mine is a case in point.
She has a rather common hip disease that causes her hip joints to become dislocated when her weight is on her feet; but, having spent most of her childhood strapped flat on her back on a special couch, having her legs pulled down by weights hung from her feet, she can now prevent the dislocation by wearing a surgical corset joined to thigh sheaths which are so steeled and jointed that they keep the joints from slipping.
Of course, with her hips so firmly bound up in this appliance her activities are seriously hampered, and though she can walk quite naturally it is very difficult for her to climb stairs or even step on a bus.
She is so sensitive about her disability that many of her acquaintances know nothing about it at all. Consequently they are often slightly annoyed when she flatly refuses invitations to dance, play tennis, and so on — things she would love to do, if she could.
She is always complaining that she loses her friends, and when I tell her that she had much better pocket her pride and tell them the truth, she cannot bring herself to do so, and so she has a pretty rotten time.
I really believe that people are nice enough not to look down on cripples, and it is quite possible for even a seriously disabled to mix with normal people on a level footing if they care to do so; but this foolish cripple's pride is always standing in the way. I taught myself to forget my pride, but it is a hard lesson to learn.
Cripples, on the whole, are dispassionate people who conceal their feelings so much that they are generally supposed to have none. Believe me, they are far from insensible, but they can simply not imagine that anyone can have any feeling for them except pity, which they dislike.
Nevertheless, I have discovered that there is a certain type of person who finds the disability of others attractive. In illustration of this, there used to be in Paris a much sought after one-legged beauty. Perhaps the peculiar French type of morbidity was responsible for her popularity, but from my own slight experience I think not. In any case, there is the fact, and there was also a rumor current in the same city while I was there, to the effect that a certain wealthy merchant had a flat in a obscure street where he kept a singularly beautiful dancer from the Moulin Rouge.
Certainly the lady disappeared, and the story went that she had been persuaded, for an enormous consideration, to suffer the amputation of both her hands and feet.
There is no proof of this tale, and I find it hard to believe that the most mercenary girl would consent to such a drastic deprivation of the means of doing anything for herself for the rest of her life.
But this letter is much too long. I have tried to tell you something about the mentality of cripples. Perhaps this may lead to a greater understanding of these unfortunate people.
Yours faithfully, Lop-Sided Lady



User avatar

Topic Author
Bazil
Старожил
Posts: 514
Joined: 01 Sep 2017, 23:35
Reputation: 283
Sex: male
Has thanked: 698 times
Been thanked: 630 times
Russia

Re: Letters to the magazine "London Life" 1924-1941

Post: # 24896Unread post Bazil
03 Feb 2018, 12:08

London Life June 27, 1931 p. 25
A Happy Couple
Dear Sir, — As a reader of your paper for some months, I have been struck by some of the queer things some of your readers write to you about. My wife and I have been very interested in the two or three letters from one— legged lady readers. What jolly sporting letters.
Perhaps it will interest your readers to know that both my wife and I have have only one leg (each, I mean). I lost mine in the war and have since worn an artificial leg.
Three years ago I met the girl who is now my wife. I had been invited to a dinner, and owing to a mistake, I was late in arriving, and the dinner had commenced. My seat had been left vacant next to a lovely fair girl, who proved throughout the dinner to be most charming.
Afterwards followed speeches and toasts and, of course, with the rest I rose in response, as also did my companion. Still I did not notice anything different about her, and it was when we rose to go to another room for a concert that I had the shock. Turning to me, she said, "Would you be so kind as to get my crutches, please — they are in the corner behind us?"
I looked at her in astonishment, wondering what such a fair vision could want with crutches, and looking down, saw that only one silken encased leg was revealed below her pink evening frock. She noticed my surprise, and jokingly made some remark about it. I apologized and reached for a dainty little pair of elbow crutches, on which she proceeded to swing gracefully across the room, followed by a good many more admiring eyes than mine.
Well, to make a long story short, that girl is now my wife, and although she now wears an artificial leg, generally she discards it when we are at home alone together. We have some great fun together by hopping about the house. My wife is very smart at this, and can hop all over the place, usually wearing a rubber-soled tennis shoe. Although she can hop a short distance in a high-heeled shoe, I do not like her to do this, in case she falls and gets injured.
I always like to wear her high heels, and she has several with 4 inch and 5 inch heels which she wears in the evening without the artificial leg. For walking outdoors when wearing her leg she can manage 2 1/2 inch to 3 inch heels quite comfortably. In fact, nobody who did not know could tell that she is one-legged, she walks so well.
I am in a good position and can afford a maid, so that my wife does not have a lot of heavy housework, but she does all her own cooking and manages quite well.
In conclusion, we hope other one-legged readers will write their experiences. In fact, it would be a good idea to have a one-legged number.
Yours sincerely, A One-Legged Pair

London Life July 18, 1931 p. 30
Interested In Limbless Ladies
Dear Sir, — Many thanks for replying through your columns to my last letter "Limbless Lady".
I have just read with great interest the letter from "A One-legged Pair", and would like to support them in their appeal for a "One-legged number".
We have heard a lot lately about girls who have lost a leg. What about those who have lost an arm, or both arms? There must be several, and I am sure they could be just as interesting as the one-legged young ladies.
Perhaps you would publish this letter, and then we might have some.
Yours truly, Doubting Thomas

London Life August 8, 1931 p. 27
Engaged Through "London Life"
Dear Sir, — This is mainly a letter of thanks for printing my letter to you and a letter of appeal, as I wish to second most heartily the suggestion of "One-legged Pair" in their request for a one-legged number.
I have became engaged since my second letter to you, and this is how it happened. A young man saw me buying my copy of "London Life", and followed me for some distance before speaking to me and then asked if I was "Helen Fivetoes".
I admitted that I was, and in the moment we became friends and whilst I was in hospital for my second amputation he came to see me as often as possible, and when I was permitted to return home he came and took me out every day in a bath-chair, because for some time I was not permitted to walk.
He finally asked me to marry him, and when I pointed out my deficiency, he said it was because of it that he was attracted to me. So, Mr. Editor it is because of your kindness in printing my letters that I have realised something I never hoped for.
Each time I went out in the bath-chair I wore a heel 4 inches high.
Since I have got stronger and have been able to get about myself again since my engagement I have been using only one shoulder crutch, as the left one gets in the way, and his arm is much more comfortable.
The letter from "One-Legged Pair" was particularly interesting to me, as the paragraph about hopping sets my mind at rest, as I often hop about and I thought I was an oddity for doing so.
I received compensation for the loss of my leg, and it brings in a small, but useful income, and so I shall not need to do any heavy work either.
We are to be married in a few months time and perhaps I shall write again and tell you more about this later.
Once more many, many thanks.
Yours truly, Helen Fivetoes



User avatar

Topic Author
Bazil
Старожил
Posts: 514
Joined: 01 Sep 2017, 23:35
Reputation: 283
Sex: male
Has thanked: 698 times
Been thanked: 630 times
Russia

Re: Letters to the magazine "London Life" 1924-1941

Post: # 24897Unread post Bazil
03 Feb 2018, 12:09

London Life August 22, 1931 p. 11
A Welcome Criticism
Dear Sir, — I have just returned from my honeymoon, which I will describe in detail in my next epistle. I have just finished reading your beautiful Summer number, and would like, if I may, to offer my opinion on it.
First let me thank for publishing Guy de Maupassant's "Mother of Monsters". This is, of course, the story to which I referred in my recent letter against tight lacing. If anyone can still offer any argument for tight lacing after reading that terrible story, they must be very unimaginative or else be mentally perverted. Thank you again, Mr. Editor.
I enjoyed all the other stories, too, except the one by Wallace Stort. A crippled person should evoke nothing but sympathy. They are so dependent upon others, and miss so much that life has to offer. (I talk from experience, as my brother lost one of his legs on the Somme.) I think therefore that to try to thrust s*ex appeal upon women whose bodies lack limbs is positively disgusting. It is unnatural and horrible, and I condemn it as the worst possible taste.
Let me add my voice to the appeal for more Continental and fewer American photographs. Miss Stanton and His are your best artists. I have a complete album of both their work, which I value immensely, and which is extremely popular with my husband's male friends.
"O. K." draws some wonderful backgrounds, but his maidens really look ludicrous dressed as children of eight or twelve in short skirts and tiny socks.
Geoffrey tells me that I ought to be "0. K.'s" model, as my figure is just his type. My waist is 26 inches, hips 37 inches, bust 39 inches, but I do not dress in the clothes I wore twelve years ago.
I trust that you will publish these little criticisms, and can promise you a very interesting contribution in my next letter. My friend "Sporty Wife" will have to look to her laurels!
Yours truly.
Forward Minx (Matron)

London Life August 29, 1931 p. 43
The Accidents Of A One-Legged Girl
Dear Sir, — I am afraid my last letter to you was rather disjointed, so I am writing again.
First of all, I lost my right leg five years ago. A brewer's dray was turning a corner when one of the barrels fell off and caught my leg midway between ankle and knee.
I saw my leg just before I was picked up, and I fainted.
I was awarded 1500 Guinea compensation.
I was a cashier in a shop, and although I am still able to do the work the sight of my crutches causes all the employers I have seen to say I am unsuitable.
I was broken-hearted when I knew that my leg was gone, but I soon made up my mind to let it make as little difference as possible.
The first time I saw my stump I nearly fainted again, as the scar looked terrible. But it soon changed to a faint white line, and before I am married the scar of the second operation will have faded too.
Some of my accidents of the first few months of my one-leggedness are funny even to me. I will tell you a few of them.
The first was when I was getting on a bus. I used to put my crutches on first and pull myself up by my arms. One day I had put my crutches on the bus and was just getting on when the bus started and I was left standing in the road. As I had not learned to hop, I had to stand precariously until a policeman had chased the bus and returned with my crutches.
Another happened soon after I had began to use a peg leg. I was walking along looking at the other side of the street, and walked on to a grating. My leg slipped through the bars and jammed and I was stuck fast until someone went below and forced my peg up again.
I am also very wary of mats — they slip so easily.
"Limbless Lady" remarks on how she can feel the missing toes waggle. I can feel mine itching sometimes. Her remarks about the tightness of the corset are quite true. If it is too loose blisters are formed, and if too tight the pain soon becomes unbearable.
I always wear mine a little too short, and I find I have a much more easy and graceful walk if it is the correct length. But of course each different height of heel required a different leg, and for that reason I soon gave it up. Its stiffness, too, was against it, as owing to the length of my stump I could not wear a jointed leg, and I had a fearful habit of tripping people up, and when I sat down it shot up and the rubber foot on it rapped hard on whatever it happened to meet.
Now I am told that I can wear either an artificial leg or a jointed peg leg, and we have decided on the peg leg to start with, and as I have now got a natural pad on the end of my stump it will be much more comfortable.
The stump is already nearly healed and is filling out nicely.
I still love wearing ultra-high heels, even though they are only ornaments, as I cannot possibly walk more than a few paces in them.
I used a crutch-handled stick indoors at first, and with the aid of chairs I got about quite easily, until I suddenly found myself hopping more and more. I was surprised at first, until it was explained to me that the sense of balance becomes so developed that it becomes second nature to hop; but it is very unsafe to do so in a high heel, and whilst working in the mornings I wear a low-heeled shoe.
Can any of your readers please say if the previous stories by Wallace Stort are still obtainable and where?
My husband-to-be is very fond of high heels, and I feel sure I have some very pleasant surprises in store in this respect. Next month we start furnishing our house, and I will be able to write again.
Yours truly, Helen Fivetoes.



User avatar

Topic Author
Bazil
Старожил
Posts: 514
Joined: 01 Sep 2017, 23:35
Reputation: 283
Sex: male
Has thanked: 698 times
Been thanked: 630 times
Russia

Re: Letters to the magazine "London Life" 1924-1941

Post: # 24898Unread post Bazil
03 Feb 2018, 12:11

London Life August 29, 1931 p. 44
High Heeled Monopedes
Dear Sir, — Congratulations on your excellent Summer annual. It was indeed a literary treat and worth every penny. The story by Wallace Stort was very intriguing and interesting, especially as it followed up a fair amount of correspondence from one-legged girls. Please let us have more of his efforts.
I notice that our old friend "Helen Fivetoes" has become engaged, and I think that all your readers will congratulate her.
I noticed that some weeks ago a correspondent signing himself "Very Interested", doubted if your one-legged girl readers could walk on a 5 inch heel, and I must say that I was disappointed to find that nobody took the challenge up. Now then, you high heeled monopedes, rise up in your might and answer! It might interest your readers to know that while I was on holiday this year a one-legged girl was staying at the same boarding house as myself. This young lady invariably wore a 4 inch heel and walked quite easily on her slender crutches when out of doors. Indoors, however, she dispensed with one crutch and generally wore a lower heeled shoe.
I might say that the loss of her leg did not handicap her very much, and almost every day she was to be seen in a very smart bathing costume going down to the sea on her crutches for a bath.
Finally I should like to second "One-legged Pair's" appeal for a "One— legged number", illustrated with photographs of your correspondents.
Yours truly, Four Years Reader

London Life September 12, 1931 p. 27
A Reply To "Forward Minx"
Dear Sir, — This letter is a protest against the criticism in the letter from "Forward Minx" in the current number of your paper.
Sympathy is the last thing a cripple wants, and they hate to be dependent on others, and need not be. I am referring to one-legged people, of course.
The characters in the story referred to Tina and the Princess are quite impossible, but it must be remembered that it is a very bizarre fiction story, and if a person was so terribly maimed he or she would be far better dead. But "Forward Minx" quotes her one-legged brother as her authority, so she must therefore include one-legged women.
Because a girl loses a leg, must she in consequence lose everything that life holds good — hopes of marriage, children, and the company of a man that loves her?
I cannot dance or play games, but then neither can many two-legged persons. She has just been married. Her body is perfect, according to the measurements she gives. Because mine has lost half of a leg, is mine hideous?
She should remember that this world is — luckily — made up of all sorts of people, and if there are men who can love a one-legged woman must they then be unnatural, horrible, disgusting, and of bad taste?
I write this letter not only for myself, but for the many girls who are happy, married and one-legged.
Be fair, "Forward Minx", and let we who are either short of a limb or who are attracted by the deficiency, have what little pleasure we can get from reading about the subject.
I do not consider that the loss of a leg makes one a cripple, but the loss of two, or hand or arm is far too serious a loss to permit a girl to accept the love of a man; and a person as limbless as the two characters I refer to could not and should not marry.
I am writing this not in anger, but simply out of a desire to see fair play for everybody.
Yours truly, Helen Fivetoes


London Life September 19, 1931 p. 23
Advice To "Helen Fivetoes"
Dear Sir, — I am a new reader of your excellent paper, having only taken it in since the Summer annual.
I was agreeably surprised, when reading the correspondence, to find that I am not alone in being immensely attracted by one-legged girls. I had always thought it was a peculiarity of my own, and must say I can't resist an attractive monopede, especially when wearing a high heel.
I may say I eventually captured one all for myself, and we have been married ten years; and a better and smarter wife no man ever had.
To "Helen Fivetoes", who is about to get married, I say, wear your smartest shoe, etc, and if he is anything like myself your husband will always be your devoted slave.
Yours truly, New Reader

London Life September 26, 1931 p. 42
Wallace Stort Replies To "Forward Minx"
Dear Sir, — May I be permitted to say a few words in reply to the letter of "Forward Minx (Matron)" in your issue of August 22nd, in which she criticises very adversely my stories of limbless beauties? I should like to say at once that I quite understand and sympathise with her own personal reactions to these stories. They are certainly not of universal appeal, and they are not intended to be.
"London Life" happens to be a periodical that caters for a very special public interested in the more unusual aspects of life. I take it that readers of this paper do not read the correspondence columns, for example, in order to discover ordinary and everyday affairs. The letters contributed to these columns are concerned with the little interesting and fantastic "kinks" that affect the human mind. Each little "kink" has its group of enthusiastic adherents, and I have no doubt that each group considers the "kinks" of the other groups quite uninteresting and silly.
Personally, I cannot see what possible interest there can be in wet macintoshes. Nor am I particularly intrigued by tight lacing; while muscular and wrestling women are positively abhorrent to me. But each of these topics appeals to its special group, and I am tolerant enough to allow these groups to be as enthusiastic as they like about their respective "kinks".
Now, although "Forward Minx" finds my stories of limbless beauties abhorrent to her, nevertheless it has become quite plain during the past few years that there is a very large number of readers to whom the particular "kink" with which they deal makes a very strong appeal. It has been proved by the very many letters that have been contributed to the correspondence columns from all over the world.
There is no doubt at all that this curious and inexplicable "kink" exists and has a large number of adherents quite apart from readers of "London Life". And, though it will appear incredible to "Forward Minx", a pretty one-legged girl, or even a pretty girl without limbs at all, does possess a very definite appeal for certain types of men.
I am really very sorry that "Forward Minx" does not like my stories, and as I have said, I completely understand her attitude. But I feel that perhaps these stories may have brought some romance into the lives of the many one— legged lady readers who have written so enthusiastically about them, and that in that lies their possible justification.
One other fact — these stories appear only at very long intervals, and so are not thrust upon those readers who may not be interested, too frequently.
May I take this opportunity of thanking you, sir, for the excellent way you produced my last story, "The Sign of the Black Butterfly", and also Miss Stanton far her very charming illustrations? I have only one criticism to offer of these drawings — and that is a regret that there were only two of them!
With all best wishes,
Yours very sincerely, Wallace Stort



User avatar

Topic Author
Bazil
Старожил
Posts: 514
Joined: 01 Sep 2017, 23:35
Reputation: 283
Sex: male
Has thanked: 698 times
Been thanked: 630 times
Russia

Re: Letters to the magazine "London Life" 1924-1941

Post: # 24900Unread post Bazil
03 Feb 2018, 12:12

London Life October 17, 1931 p. 20
One-Legged Swimmers
Dear Sir, — As I promised I am writing again. The furnishing of our house is complete, but as there are no fittings out of the ordinary I will not describe it. It is a one-storeyed bungalow with no stairs, thank goodness!
I have just paid my first visit to Dick's people in the South of England, and on the way back we spent a day in London.
Dick went swimming every day. And here perhaps your readers can help me again, as before my accident I could swim fairly well. Do they know of any girl who can swim with one leg?
I know that the obvious thing to do is to try, but I do not like to do so in public.
Just before we went to London I received the copies of "London Life" with the stories by Wallace Stort in them — the first two episodes of "The quest of Anthony Drew" and "The Confessions Of A One-Legged Bride". They are wonderful and ever so much better than the third one.
You must really worry Mr. Stort to write more often.
Our visit to London was for the purpose of visiting an artificial limb manufacturer, and I was measured for a peg and an artificial leg. They are both to be made of duralumin, and will be ready for our wedding, which is to take place very soon after this is printed.
I did not, of course, see my own leg, as they are all made to measure; but those I did see were wonderful, both in shape and action, and they are so light. Instead of the usual corset, they are made with a bucket, which is also metal, and the attachment is by means of a light web belt which is worn just above the hips.
The peg leg is to be jointed, and the peg portion is to be detachable, so that it can be changed instantly. I have ordered two — one for a 3 inch heel and one for a 4 inch heel. Both pegs are no thicker than an ordinary walking stick.
Whilst I was being measured for the legs, Dick, of course, was absent, but I understand he was very interested in the crutch department; but he will not tell me what he was doing, so I must wait and see.
I will write and tell you about the wedding, and also how I manage with the new limb.
Yours truly, Helen Fivetoes

London Life November 28, 1931 p. 80
One-Legged Swimmer's Interesting Experiences
Dear Sir, — Miss Helen Fivetoes enquires if any readers of "London Life" know of any girl who can swim with one leg. Perhaps Miss Fivetoes and others would be interested to hear of my experiences, for I am a one-legged swimmer.
I can scarcely remember my first introduction to the water. My father, being a keen swimmer himself, believed in my learning to swim at a very tender age. It was at the Isle of Man, at the age of three, where I first encountered the waves. In those days it was a case of much persuasion and long howls on my part before I could be induced to enter the water, but there were even louder howls and more forcible persuasion before I would come out again. In other words, I took the water like a duck.
My father used to swim a considerable distance out with me on his back, and soon I became very confident. One day I ran, fully dressed, into the sea. My nurse ran after me, calling to me to come back. Child-like, the quicker she ran after me, the quicker I ran, until I was well out of my depth and had to be rescued by some gallant hero. At that time I did not think he was a hero, nor was I at all pleased with his actions.
A few month later I developed hip disease. For quite twelve years I did not go into the water, and during that period I spent five years and seven months on my back on a spinal carriage. It was extraordinary that I ever started to swim again, for I was looked at as a complete invalid, hopping about on crutches.
We were staying at Anglesey, and I used to long to join the others when they went bathing. One day my mother said, "Why not?" I was carried into the water and was able to float almost immediately.
In a day or two I was doing backstrokes and moving about quite easily; but I was never able to stand up in the water — which I have always thought since is the reason why I cannot understand people saying that they dread to be out of their depth. Depth of the water has never concerned me — the deeper the better.
I enjoyed several years bathing, then came the time when I had to have the left leg amputated: and I thought that swimming, as far as I was concerned, was a thing of the past. However, my doctor thought this was the only exercise it was possible for me to take, for not only was I minus a leg, but also had an ankylosed hip-joint, which meant that I could not successfully use an artificial limb and, consequently, much walking would be too great a strain on the other leg. I began to swim again.
About five years ago I met a professional swimmer, who became a great friend. It was then that I began to think seriously about swimming. My friend taught me the correct strokes — or, to be more accurate, I ought to say the correct strokes to the best of my ability. We also did many tricks and stunts together, and took the Royal Life-saving Proficiency certificate and Bronze Medallion.
In 1928 my friend persuaded me to try a long-distance stunt, with the idea, if I was successful, of attempting the Morecambe Bay swim. It was arranged that I should swim from the North Pier to the South Pier at Blackpool, a distance of about two miles. We set off in a small rowing boat, and it was not until we reached the end of the North Pier that we realised that neither of us had given a thought as to how I was going to get into the water.
I could execute a fairly decent dive from the bath-side, but I could certainly not balance myself on a rowing boat and dive in. I was afraid to risk sitting on the side or stern of the boat and dropping in, because I might hurt my back in doing so. Things were really becoming desperate. There was a crowd at the end of the pier waiting to see me start. I was becoming hysterically nervous. At last the boatman enquired if I would object to being thrown in. It was certainly a rather undignified commencement, but the only solution to the problem.
We progressed favourably for a quarter of a mile, then I encountered adverse currents and felt myself being literally held back and making no progress at all. The next ten minutes were not pleasant ones.
No, I would not give in! I put every ounce of strength into my arms, and when almost on my last gasp I found myself making headway. The rest was easy. I accomplished the swim in ninety minutes, which was considered good doing. It was too late in the season to enter for the Morecambe swim.
In 1929 I had a slight operation on my throat, which prevented me doing serious swimming that year.
After that I started to do a little regular physical training to get really fit for the twelve miles across Morecambe Bay. In July 1930 I decided as a final test, to swim from Rossall Point to Blackpool, actual distance six miles, but taking into consideration the necessary dog-legging, about nine miles swimming.
The weather was ideal, even too much so — the glare of the sun on the water was very trying for the eyes, and the sea was so calm, that there was scarcely any helping current. It meant slogging the whole way. I shall never forget that swim. In less than two hours I was in agony with the pain and soreness of my eyes. I had never liked wearing goggles, and had started without them.
I managed to don the goggles somehow, and resumed swimming. After a few minutes I thought to myself, "This is a funny business. The goggles act splendidly for my right eye, but not a bit of use for the left one." It was useless to try on under these circumstances. I ordered the boat to stop and flung the goggles back to them.
It took four hours and ten minutes to cover the distance. I sprinted the last few hundred yards, just to show them I could do it. I admit I was tired, a little stiff, and suffering horribly with my eyes, but I was far from physically exhausted.
Now for the sequel to the goggles. It was when we were back at the hotel and I was getting dressed, that my friend asked me, "How did you come to lose one of the glasses in your goggles?"



User avatar

Topic Author
Bazil
Старожил
Posts: 514
Joined: 01 Sep 2017, 23:35
Reputation: 283
Sex: male
Has thanked: 698 times
Been thanked: 630 times
Russia

Re: Letters to the magazine "London Life" 1924-1941

Post: # 24901Unread post Bazil
03 Feb 2018, 12:13

No wonder they had been no use to me! Evidently in putting then on, the glass for the left eye had fallen out.
Six weeks later came my great test, the Morecambe Cross Bay race. The weather was most unfavourable and quite a rough sea. I did not feel all happy during the crossing from Morecambe to Grange, and I'm sure that if my trainers had a single word about giving up my attempt I would have done so. However, they did not say anything of the sort, although I learnt afterwards that they were both very nervous and if there had been any trouble they had not the least idea how they would have got me out. It was too rough for the boat to get close to the swimmers without danger of bumping. In fact, there were times when the swimmers were flung above the gunwale of the boats on top of the waves.
Breathing became difficult, one gets to a rhythm which becomes impossible, as very often one's head is completely under the wave. More often than not one's strokes are useless; instead of getting a purchase the water, one's arms were aimlessly waving in the air.
The following day I found myself bruised from my left shoulder to the waist, caused by the buffeting of the waves. I had no inclination during the swim to give up, although the boat once stopped to inquire how I was feeling and, in spite of being none too comfortable, I yelled back "Carry on, it's great!"
I was absolutely unconscious of the fact that I had been actually vomiting for the last few moments!
The difficulty in swimming Morecambe bay are the sandbanks. The tide runs out so quickly that there are many banks left high and dry. It is a desperate race to get over the banks before they are dry. I knew that I had the endurance, but was not sure that I had the speed. I saw my boat going ahead and my trainer shouting to me to put on all speed. I knew that we were coming to one of the dreaded banks. In a few moments I could feel my finger tips touching the bottom, and my hope sank. For just one weak moment I cried out, "I can't do it!"
My boat went aground, I had not the sense at the time to tell them that I was getting into deeper water. The pilot and my trainer ordered me to get into the boat immediately unless we were likely to be there all night.
In a flash I was in the boat. My trainer jumped out and pushed us off. We were actually on the very edge of the bank, and two minutes later in deep water! I am confident that I could have managed to get over it, for spite of being a bit breathless after the last spurt I was very fit and not the least tired. I had only been swimming two hours and twenty minutes and covered a good three parts of the way.
Yours truly, Margaret Harrison

London Life December 26, 193l p. 28
Confessions Of A One-Legged Girl
Dear Sir, — There have been several letters in your paper in the past year from one-legged ladies, all of which I find difficult to believe.
I can truly say I am one-legged from choice, as I was born with a terrible deformity of my left foot — a huge club foot, which made it impossible for me to walk without the aid of one crutch, and I was also troubled with a wasting complaint which attacked my left leg.
I was told in time my leg would be quite powerless, but without pain; as my club foot was so hideous and useless, I asked if I could rely on the removal of the lower leg curing the wasting disease and permit me to wear a false leg.
No guarantee was given and I decided that one good leg and crutches and no unsightly foot was more attractive than one good and one helpless leg, plus one crutch and a huge foot, and I asked for the leg to be taken off, and after a great deal of trouble in finding a surgeon to do it, the leg was removed at the hip, leaving me not a vestige of a stump. That was ten years ago.
I have never known what it is to walk unaided, but I do know that is infinitely easier to walk without the cumbersome foot I had to drag about, and because I have no stump.
As some of your readers can testify, the most peculiar part about a missing leg is the absence of its weight. Until one is thoroughly used to it, at least.
I have several friends who have lost legs. I went to a cripples' school. It was amusing to us all to see the weird way they used to walk whilst learning to use a false leg, as the leg is so much lighter than the real one, and the tendency is to use as much force in moving the false one as they did the real one, with the result that the false leg went forward to the full extent of the hip-joint.
I used a heel 2 inches high and one crutch for outdoors, and indoors I can wear a 3" inch and a 4 inch heel without any fear of falling, and I never use two crutches.
I have kept in touch with many of my old school friends, and some of our talks would provide Mr. Wallace Stort with much material for his stories.
I have said that I find it hard to believe all your writers — I should have said two of them. It is quite impossible to walk on one 6 inch heel and one crutch. I have given up trying.
One word of advice. If any of your readers — male or female have recently lost a leg, do not experiment with a peg leg until the artificial leg is ready, as it causes one to walk with a very stiff action which is never got rid of.
May we have some more stories like "The Confessions Of A One-Legged Bride?" There was nothing really impossible in that at all.
Yours truly
Once A Cripple



User avatar

Topic Author
Bazil
Старожил
Posts: 514
Joined: 01 Sep 2017, 23:35
Reputation: 283
Sex: male
Has thanked: 698 times
Been thanked: 630 times
Russia

Re: Letters to the magazine "London Life" 1924-1941

Post: # 25322Unread post Bazil
10 Feb 2018, 10:18

1932

London Life April 30, 1932 p. 54
A Crippled Readers Experiences
Dear Sir. — I have just resumed reading your fascinating little paper as being out of England for two years. In those days I was a normal healthy young man who thoroughly enjoyed life.
About two years ago you used to publish letters by legless or one-legged readers. These letters always fascinated me. Now, through an accident, my right leg has been amputated at the hip, and so I have no possibility, they tell me, of ever using an artificial leg.
I walk with one crutch. First of all I used two, but after a little practice I found I could walk as fast as a normal person with one, and long distances, too. I do not like snow and ice, as I am always afraid of falling. I can ride a bicycle with a fixed wheel carrying my crutch strapped to the bike. In summer I swim in the sea. I have got quite used to people looking in curiosity.
If I am alone I take a special wooden crutch (no padded crosspiece) tied by a light cord to my waist, walk to the water and swim, pulling the crutch after me. Thus I have both arms and my leg free. I can swim two miles.
A girl with no feet sometimes bathes too. Her friends carry her into the water to swim. When she leaves the beach she walks with dainty shoes on. She has tiny artificial feet.
If any of my friends are bathing, even the girls will help me to get to the water, so I don't need the undignified crutch. I have noticed that girls like to make a fuss of a crippled boy such as myself.
I am 23 years old, work in an assurance office. You must have lots of legless or one-legged readers. Don't they write? I love to read their letters.
I do not mind my crutch so much now, though I thought I should die of shame when I first went out on crutches. The biggest blow was not being able to dance any more. I used to live for dancing, and even hearing a dance band makes me long for a dance.
Once, in a cafй, a dance band struck up a fox-trot, and I struggled crutchless from my seat; and not until I nearly fell and caught the table for support I did remember I had only one leg and that the substitute for the other was lying hidden on the floor.
When first crippled I forgot once or twice I couldn't walk without my crutch, more than once while in the house I tried to get up crutchless. Now, of course, I don't use a crutch so much in the house. I hop about.
Yours truly, One-Legged


London Life July 16, 1932 p. 9
A Happy One-Legged Girl
Dear Sir, — It has been such a long time since I last wrote to you, but I should like to take this opportunity of congratulating you on your number dated June 25th. It is indeed a most interesting number. The stories, articles and letters on the subject of high heels were most fascinating. Please print some more on the same subject.
Some time ago you published stories about one-legged girls which were thrilling and fascinating.
I lost my right limb and left arm in a motor accident ten years ago. I always wear a shoe with a heel at least 4 inches high, and a beautiful peg leg.
Having only one arm makes the use of a crutch an awkward job, as I cannot use my hand for anything else, so I favour a peg leg.
Please publish some more articles on one-legged girls and high heels.
Wishing your paper every success, and hoping to see other letters from happy one-legged girls shortly,
Yours sincerely, High-Heeled Monoped.


London Life August 6, 1932 P-1932 p. 25
Charming Though Crippled
Dear Sir, — I should like to say how very pleased I was to read the letter from "High-heeled Monoped" . There must be hundreds of girls who have lost one or more limbs and who are proud of the fact that they are still as charming as (or maybe more charming) they used to be when in possession of the normal number of limbs.
"High-heeled Monoped" seems very fond of the fact that she has lost a leg and an arm, I should love to meet her and discuss experiences. What a thrilling meeting! Well, who knows.
I have only one leg, my right leg being completely absent. I have been so for the last seven years, owing to a motor-cycle accident. After recovering from the shock I found I have a new desire to be able to do most everything equally as well as a normal girl.
By perseverance I can now do most things with a graceful ease which amazes me.
About two years ago, whilst helping my boy with his motor-cycle I accidentally got both hands caught in a chain which was running. By a strange coincidence, I had to lose four fingers through this — the second and the third on my right hand, and the first and the fourth on my left hand. Oddly enough, the remaining fingers were not damaged except for cuts, etc. All four fingers were taken completely off at the hospital, and both hands were left in a very novel condition. The fingers missing on one hand were present on the other and vice-versa.
At first it seemed very strange to dress myself, but in time I grew accustomed to it and found I had discovered a new thrill in having only four fingers as well as only one leg.
I have always worn a shoe with a very high heel, and I take a keen delight in doing so. My usual dress for indoor wear is as follows: A beautifully cut sleeveless frock, tight-fitting and reaching to about an inch below my knee; a flesh-coloured silk stocking and a black patent one-bar shoe with a 5" inch heel. My outfit is completed with a pair of elbow-length kid gloves, made specially with only two fingers in each, and a pair of slender black crutches.
I also have a special shoe which I wear at home. This is made of red kid, and has a heel 7 inches high. With this I use only one crutch, which I keep for the purpose.
Please, Mr. Editor, try to obtain some more stories of one-legged girls. Yours seems to be the only paper which caters for everybody. Bravo!
Wishing you every success and hoping you will meet my wishes shortly,
Yours sincerely, One High Heel.


London Life August 13, 1932 p. 25
One-Legged Boxing And Wrestling Matches
Dear Sir, — I was thrilled by the one-legged girl's letter in your number dated July 16, as I am also minus my left arm, which ends at the elbow, also my right leg is amputated at the knee.
"Two beautiful stumps," said the doctor, the day I was discharged from hospital. And he was right, for in a short while they were quite scarless and very firm and strong.
Funnily enough, the one-armed and one-legged fascinated me long before my motor-bike accident — in fact for as long as I can remember. Little did I know that I was destined to possess the empty trouser leg and limp jacket sleeve of the maimed.
I prefer a crutch to stump bucket peg, which is so heavy, the former enabling me to swing and stump along in a delightfully irresponsible way. And I have trained my arm stump to do its bit of crutch work with the aid of a strip of leather nailed on the crutch, into which I thrust it to get a grip.
I expect "One-legged Girl" would be thrilled to see me attired in my glossy velvet corduroys — a material I love — and hopping about the house. I seldom use a crutch indoors. The gas mantles I've broken in the rooms downstairs when hopping about upstairs with my hobnailed boot on!
I always have the right leg on my smartly cut corduroy breeches sewn up into a shining little velvet cord bag, with which I wear a highly polished legging. My empty jacket sleeve I prefer to leave as it is, the thick, stiff corduroy of which is very "handy" for punishing my one-armed friend when we have a friendly tussle together.
Perhaps the following incident will interest "One-legged Girl". My one— armed chum arrived the other evening attired, as usual, in his rich suit of nigger-brown corduroys — he is a corduroy fan — and he brought a couple of pairs of boxing gloved with him. After putting gloves on our one arms and stumps, we let it rip.
How "One-legged Girl" would have chuckled seeing me hopping round my chum trying to get in a knock-out, while he made feints at me with his stump, which is shorter than mine.
Soon we clinched, and the fight developed into a wrestling match. In spite of my one-legged handicap, I manage to trip him up and to keep him down with my leg stump firmly planted on his chest.
Yours truly, One-Legged One Armed.


London Life September 3, 1932 p. 26
Husband Adores A One-Legged Wife
Dear Sir, — I came across some very old copies of your own paper a few days ago. Amongst them was the copy in which you published a story called "The Confessions of a One-legged Bride".
I wonder if any of your readers will be interested in these experiences of mine?
About two years ago I was travelling North in an express from King's Cross, and just as the train left, a girl entered my compartment, which was empty except for we two. She was well dressed, very pretty, above average height, and about 25 years old.
I had been looking out of the window and had not seen her enter, and paid no attention to her until the train steamed out.
Here let me say that I have been greatly attracted, but quite unknown, to lame girls — which I put down to the fact that my mother lost her right limb some months before I was born.
On turning round, I took stock, as it were, of my fellow-traveller, and noted the particulars I have quoted, plus a very neatly turned ankle and calf enclosed in a light stocking and a lovely black patent shoe with a heel rather above the average height.
It was some seconds before I realised it was only one limb and I'm afraid I gurgled like a stranded fish, and blurted out, "You have lost a leg!"
The girl laughed and asked if I had found it. After apologising to her, we entered into a conversation, during which I confessed my attraction to lame girls, and learned how she became one-legged.
At the age of 14 she fell and injured her kneecap, and after many months and several operations her limb was removed just above the knee.
She normally wore an artificial limb, but on this occasion was using a light black crutch, shod with a very light rubber foot.
Our journey lasted for over five hours, and started a friendship which culminated in our marriage.
At a junction where we changed, she rose, took down her crutch from the luggage rack, seized a handbag, and was on the platform before I could assist her. We went to the tearoom. I was quite fascinated by the easy gliding sway in which she walked.
Even now it is quite incredible to me that of all the places we could have gone to, we should both have been bound for the same town.
After a very little time I asked her to marry me, and had quite a task to overcome her objections. Within six months we were married, and have been preposterously happy ever since.
My wife, as I have said, usually wears an artificial limb, which is made entirely of metal and is so light and natural that it is absolutely impossible to tell that she has only one limb.
She is fond of pretty shoes, and wears with ease a pair with heels just under 3 inches in height whilst wearing her artificial limb, and also wears a pair of well fitting corsets, but is not in an easy sense wasp-waisted; but she knows that I love to see her on her crutch, and many evenings each week she discards her artificial limb and uses the crutch. She never worries about moving from one room to another without it, as she is quite expert at hopping, and moves up and down stairs quite freely, and does so by hopping, keeping her crutch firmly under her arm, but supports herself on the banister, when coming down.
By dint of great practice she is able to dance the more common dances, and walks miles without undue fatigue.
She is not at all sensitive about her loss, except at the seaside during our annual holiday, when she sees other girls bathing, as she will not consent to swim and show the maimed leg in its entirety.
I should be delighted to see letters from other admirers of one-legged girls or, better still, from the ladies themselves, also some fresh stories by the same author.
Yours truly, Roy The Second.



London Life September 3, 1932 p. 26
Still Ridiculously Happy
Dear Sir, — It is now many months since I last wrote to you, and it is with great regret that I have noticed the falling-off of letters from one-legged ladies, and also the cessation of stories and articles on them.
I am still ridiculously happy, and am still as fond as ever of high-heeled shoes; but in a few months' time I shall have to stop wearing them — for a little while, at least — and there are no prizes for guessing why.
Dick has been very good to me ever since we were married, and has done ever so much to satisfy my own natural desire to overcome my handicap; but it is only fair to say that it is also his greatest pleasure to see me walking as naturally as possible while wearing the highest heel I can manage.
I must admit that the peg legs which I had made on my visit to London have not been used very much lately, as the artificial limb is much more comfortable and natural, and also permits me to use a pair of shoes with 3 inch heels all day long.
But in the evening and on very hot days I discard it, as the corset is rather uncomfortable, and I use now a single padded crutch, in deference to my husband's wishes, as he says it is ever so much nicer to see me swinging along on one crutch than it is on my elbow crutches.
I must say that I consider him right to a very great extent, as with the pair of crutches, both hands are fully occupied, whereas with only one I can carry things in my other hand or use Dick's arm as an additional support.
As I told you in my last letter, both my peg legs and my artificial one are made of a very light metal alloy, and they are very comfortable to use.
I have had some lovely shoes as presents of Dick, and in all cases except one the heels are as high as I can possibly manage. And some of them I am quite unable to walk in even with the aid of two crutches.
One of them has a blocked toe and a heel 7 inches high, and is only meant as an ornament. I wear it in the house in the afternoon or evening, and when it is necessary for me to move Dick just picks me up and carries me.
Soon I shall have to give my heels up, and probably have to take to my bath-chair again for a month or so.
Can you imagine the stares I shall get when I go out wearing my peg leg and push the pram?
Sincerely yours, Helen Fivetoes


London Life September 17, 1932 p. 26
One-Legged And Charming
Dear Sir, — I should like to take this opportunity of congratulating you on your very interesting paper. I am particularly interested in the correspondence pages, especially letters referring to one-legged girls and high heels.
Some of your readers may be interested to read the following unusual story about myself.
When I was seven years old I sustained a fall when playing with some other children and, as a result, my right leg became paralysed. From that time I had to use a crutch to enable me to get about. I had become quite used to my predicament, as you my imagine, by the time I was 17, but I always found my paralysed leg a severe handicap to my movements.
One day I was staying at home, as I often did, when I had a surprise visit from one of my former girlfriends. The last time I saw her she was full of life and up to all sorts of tricks. Now, of course, she had grown older, and at 18 looked very beautiful. You can well imagine my astonishment on seeing that, as she stood in the doorway, she was supported by a dainty crutch.
On looking again I had a still greater surprise, for Winnie was standing on but one leg, her short frock showing only too plainly that the beautifully shaped leg was the only one she now possessed, and looked very charming with her. She was beautifully dressed, and looked very charming with her short frock showing the wonderful shape of her lovely leg. I also noticed that she was wearing a charming black patent shoe with a 4 inch heel.
After recovering from my shock and exchanging greetings, I demanded an explanation.
I was informed that she lost her leg in a motor accident some three years previous, and since then had endeavoured to become just as charming as she would have been if the accident had not occurred, and it was my expressed opinion that she had realised her ambition.
To cut a long story short, as a result of her visit and conversation, I entered a hospital in the course of a few weeks, and returned some time later feeling very thrilled and minus my useless leg. I have been able to get about much better since my leg was amputated, and I have had some thrilling experiences, of which I may write later.
I always wear a shoe with a heel not less than 3 inches, and I find much pleasure in doing so.
Please publish some more letters from one-legged girls, and try to obtain some stories about them.
Yours sincerely, One-Legged By Choice.


London Life September 24, 1932 p. 49
One-Legged High-Heeled
Dear Sir, — I should like to add my name to the list of one-legged girl readers of your ever-interesting paper.
I noticed some time ago a letter in your pager signed "Matron" which ridiculed the idea of one-legged girls possessing s*ex appeal. I was too busy at the time to reply, but I should like to say now that "Matron" could not have come into contact with any one-legged girls, or she would not have made such a statement.
I have been the proud possessor of only one leg for the last fifteen years — since I was five years old — and I am still thrilled with the idea. I do not attempt to conceal the fact that my single shapely leg is all I have in the way of nether limbs. On the contrary, I make it quite plain to most casual observer.
I have just bought a most beautiful shoe — black patent, with a dainty ankle-strap and a red heel 6 inches highith this I use only one crutch, as I think a one-legged girl looks much more charming when dexterously manipulating a single crutch, and is able to cause a thrill by the effortless swinging which accompanies the use of one crutch.
Life is a long thrill for a girl who wears a 5 inch heeled shoe on her one and only foot. (I speak from experience.) I should like to see more letters from "High Heeled Monoped", "One High Heel", and others, in your interesting paper.
Wishing you every success and hoping that you will publish another one— legged romance shortly.
Yours sincerely, Single Crutch.


London Life October 29, 1932 p. 54
Fascinating Though Limbless
Dear Sir, A few months ago a boyfriend of mine showed me a copy of your novel and interesting journal. On opening it and reading it I was deeply surprised and most interested to see amongst the correspondence a letter from a young lady reader who only possessed a single lower limb.
I asked my friend about this, and he told me that quite often such letters appeared, and he showed me quite a collection of them which he had kept for curiosity, and also several stories written by Wallace Stort, which I read with deep interest.
I have at last plucked enough courage to write about myself. I am entirely legless, having lost both my legs from above the knee. When I was ten, necrosis set in in my left leg, which necessitated its amputation at the point which left me with a small plump stump about 4 inches in length from the hip.
When I lost this leg I was, of course, rather too young to appreciate my misfortune to any great extent, and I managed to get about quite well on a pair of crutches, and after a few years of constant practice I was able to ignore my loss completely and accept it as quite a natural thing.
I took just as much care, as I grew grew older, of my remnant limb as I did of any other part of my body, and, in fact, I became quite fond of it, although this may seem strange to readers, especially girls, who still possess two legs.
Then came a terrible blow. When I was 18 my right leg became affected by the same malady that cost me my left leg, and this, too, had to be amputated. This time the amputation was carried out about two inches above the knee, leaving me with a rather long stump.
My second stump is not such a pleasant sight as the other. It is very long, thin and bony, but it serves one useful purpose, and that is I am able to use an artificial leg on it.
When I left hospital for the second time I was wheeled about in a bath— chair for nearly a year afterwards, but it was eventually suggested that I should be fitted with at least one leg.
I was taken to a well-known maker of limbs, and after stringent tests he made and fitted me with a beautifully constructed limb for my right stump, as he said that with the passing years my left stump had become practically useless for that purpose, and the right was the longest and gave more leverage for lifting the dead weight of an artificial limb.
I still have to use crutches, but after having used them for ten years they do not bother me in the least, so that although I am actually completely legless I still appear to the uniformed to be still one-legged.
I rather enjoy being one-legged, but I am not in love with being totally legless; but I nevertheless still get a kick out of life, and I am not a burden to my parents, as I am employed as a typist in a local office.
I am considered to be quite pretty, having naturally brown wavy hair, and quite good features. I manage to dress in the prevailing fashions, although I have my dresses made shorter, as I have found from experience that a long frock is rather an encumbrance with an artificial leg.
I have just bought and read your latest double number and read the letter by "Single Crutch", and saw her reference to a letter by "Matron", who evidently doubts the fact that we limbless girls are attractive to the eyes of some men. I have not read this letter, and would be grateful if you could let me know in which edition of your paper it appeared.
Trusting that I have not taken up too much time,
Yours sincerely, Greta No Toes.


London Life October 29, 1932
Maimed, Merry, And Married
Dear Sir, — I read with great interest the letters from "Helen Fivetoes" and "Roy the Second" in your fine magazine — which I have been reading regularly since 1929 — and have a fine album of stories, etc, about and from maimed girls, and have at last plucked up sufficient courage to write to you about myself.
I am 29 years old, have been married eight years, and have been crippled for twenty-four years, so that I can claim to know what crippledom is.
I was barely five when a railway smash deprived me of my right leg below the knee, and my right eye, so you will see that I cannot remember what it is like to be formed in the normal way.
I have at various periods used all the substitutes for leg crutches, peg— legs, and the various artificial limbs — and I assure you that the forerunner of the present splendid limb had to be worn and suffered to be realised.
I wore a peg-leg until I was 17 — first the usual "broom-handle", and then rather an unsightly but very useful circular peg made of leather with a wide round base about three inches across — and then artificial limbs of various makes, until the present light metal limb was brought out.
Perhaps because my knee-joint is left to me I have been luckier than many of the one-legged people, as I most certainly can do almost anything except get chilblains on my right foot. I can even run a little, play games, dance, and get about without fatigue or pain, swim fairly well, and show very little sign of my missing limb.
I met my husband in very unusual circumstances. I was at a party, and the games began to get a little hectic, and my corset string — the stump corset, of course — snapped, and my leg became detached and was only kept from falling on the floor by my stocking and suspenders, and I looked very silly, as I had taken great pains to conceal my infirmity; and a gentleman who had been seated throughout the whole of the time came to my assistance, and it was quite obvious that he had only one leg — his right — and he was wearing one of the old-pattern limbs. It must have been a case of like calling to like, as within a very short time we were married.
Since then we have vied with each other in being as nimble as possible, and he is almost as active as I, although his stump is only a few inches long.
I am able to wear quite high heeled shoes, and I firmly believe that a girl on two crutches is able to wear a heel, that a two-legged girl could hardly stand on, simply because her whole weight can be born by the armpits, as my ultra-modern sister wears shoes with 5 inch heels for dancing and with the aid of my trusty old crutches — kept for use on both nights, as one must discard a false leg in a bath — I can get about with her high heel on my left foot much quicker and easier than she can on her two size 5 feet.
My glass eye is a different proposition, as I cannot and never shall be able to conceal that; but I go a long way towards doing so with the aid of a smart pair of eyeglasses.
Yours truly, Crippled Wife.


London Life November 12, 1932 p. 24
Making The Best Of Misfortune
Dear Sir, — A certain amount of interest seems to be springing up in your magazine with regard to girls who have lost a leg or an arm. They all seem to take a good deal of pride in the fact that they get about on the daintiest of crutches and wear high-heeled shoes, and do not seem at all unhappy because they are crippled.
I wonder if they were formed as I am, if they would still be proud?
My right leg stopped growing soon after I was nine, as a result of a long illness, and since then I have been hopelessly crippled. I do not complain, as it would not be of the slightest use; but cannot say that I am proud of my crippled leg, and certainly make the most of what little charm I am blessed with; but I never hope to be married, as my deformity is too great for that.
The result of the illness is that while the rest of my body developed at the normal rate, leaving me, at the age of 26, with a height of 5 feet 6 inches, a slim figure, a well developed bust, and a face that is most certainly not ugly — many of my friends say that I am pretty.
My right foot fails to reach the ground by just over 14 inches. The whole leg is no bigger than it was when I was a child of nine, and it cannot be used properly as the muscles have become atrophied, with the result that I cannot walk on it even with the aid of extensions.
I use a hoop-iron extension bolted to my right shoe, and with its aid I can stand unaided by my crutch, which is a great aid in carrying out my household work; but when I go out in the street, unless I am going to stand still for any length of time shopping, etc, I leave it off and use the crutch, a well padded one of the armpit type.
The extension being of such a great height is very awkward and heavy, and requires a considerable effort to move it with my withered leg; but it is far more useful than one made of cork or wood would be.
When wearing it I have, of course, to wear a low heeled shoe on both feet, but I love to wear a nice heel whenever possible. But my heels are never of the height written in your paper, as the highest I have ever possessed is barely 3 inches high, as my foot is so small I have to buy a single shoe, size 4, for my left foot, and a child's size for the right foot, and even my stockings have to be of different sizes.
I have been advised several times to have the leg amputated, but as the stump, if I were left with one, would be too small and weak to bear the weight of an artificial limb, I should be worse off than I am now, as the bad leg is able to support my weight when standing still, so I just make the best of a bad job; and as I have never known what it is to be a normally shaped woman, I suppose I do not feel it so much as I should if I had become crippled later in life.
I always dress as smartly as I can, and I know that I attract a great deal of attention when I am out in the street, as I realise the difference that the use of a lipstick, powder and pretty clothes make; but I wish I could meet a man who could take an interest in me, as our friend "Helen Fivetoes" has done. I know there are many such men in the world, because of the number of times men have stopped to look at, and even follow me in the street.
I have written this letter in an endeavour to point out the difference between a person who is one-legged and one who is really hopelessly crippled and who has no possible hope of ever being otherwise. But do not think that I am crying against my fate, as there are certain advantages in being as I am, which partially balance the inability of being unable to walk anywhere without the aid a crutch and a yard of hoop-iron.
Yours truly, One And A Half


London Life November 26, 1932 p. 74
Limbless, But Not Helpless
Dear Sir, — "Crippled Wife" and "Greta No Toes" who contributed letters to your recent double number, may be interested in a curious experience of my own.
About two years ago I went North for the Christmas holiday, and among other things I attended a jolly Christmas party. Though a private affair, it was on a biggish scale and was held in the Assembly Rooms of a well-known restaurant.
Dancing had already started when I noticed a little group arrive, only one of which I knew, the rest being strangers. There were four couples in the group, and the odd thing was that one of the girls was being carried into the room by one of the boys.
The group settled down quite near me; but, curiously enough, the girl who had been carried in, when she slipped out of her partner's arms, stood for a while chatting with a number of friends who had come up.
I say "curiously enough", for it at once became quite plain that the girl had only one leg and was standing very easily balanced on her foot. She was a very pretty girl, hardly out of her teens, and the shortness of her flimsy dress was noticeable in a room full of long dresses. It was as if she were proud of her one leg and liked to show it off. It was certainly very neat and slim, and I saw she was wearing a small, very open satin sandal slipper without a heel.
If I was surprised at a one-legged girl appearing at a party, you can think how surprised I was when the young fellow who had carried her put his arm around her and led her on to the dance floor. Of course, she did not really dance, but she hopped about quite gaily, screaming with laughter all the time as she passed her friends.
She "danced" several dances like this at intervals, and it was interesting to note that whenever she wanted to greet her friends in various parts of the room she just hopped across the room quite easily and without any embarrassment.
But I haven't yet revealed the most astonishing thing about her. Very soon after her arrival I was just going to ask my lady friend, who knew her well, why the girl did not use crutches, when I suddenly saw the reason for myself. It was a curious thing that I did not see it right away but the fact is I didn't.
With her very flimsy, lacy dress she wore loose transparent sleeves. These were specially made to fall gracefully to the waist, where they were gathered in and became part of the dress. As she stood near me I thought I had an odd impression that there was something very unusual about the way those sleeves were gathered in, when a sudden movement near her shoulder caught my eye.
The truth became at once so plane that I wondered why I hadn't noticed it before. The girl was not only one-legged, but positively had no arms. Or, I should say, instead of arms, all she had were two little stumps about 3 inches long, each from the shoulder; and it was the sudden movement of one of these that I had seen.
Well, to cut a long story short, I learnt all about her during the evening. She was married to the young fellow who had carried her in, and the marriage had been a most romantic one.
The girl was a Belgian, and about two or three years ago had come to England with a German manager on exhibition. She was born with no arms and only one leg, her left, and (as I was able myself to prove later on in the evening, for during the fun she "danced" with me and also playfully sat on my knee) without any stump at all of her missing right leg. She was quite willing to talk about herself.
It was while she was on show that the English boy saw her and fell in love with her at first sight. I understand that there was a lot of trouble with the manager, but as the boy was of well-to-do parents he was able to compensate the man handsomely for the loss of his principal "star". They were married quietly and, in spite of all the head shakings, the marriage has turned out a very happy one.
The girl is of most cheerful, vivacious disposition, and the extraordinary thing seems to be that, so far from grieving about her condition, she has a curious pride in her beautiful yet trained body. Stranger still, perhaps, her husband is not only passionately fond of her, but makes it quite plain that he thinks her limblessness the most attractive thing about her, and likes her to show off her one-limbed body as much as possible.
By the way, an interesting point about the night I met her. During the supper, at which they sat near me, her husband fed his limbless wife, but I learned that though in public they felt it advisable to do this, she always fed herself at home, using her toes as easily as a normal person uses her fingers.
I was privileged to see her toes and, in fact to "shake hands" with her. Her silk stocking was cut away at the toe, leaving her toes bare. They were long and delicately formed, extraordinarily like fingers and, of course, beautifully kept.
On the big toe she wore a big, flat cameo ring, and on the fourth toe miniature engagement and wedding rings. The little toe, oddly enough, was missing, and she only had four toes.
Her leg was so flexible that she could (and did, for my benefit) run her toes, as another woman does her fingers, through the curls at the back of her head.
I can vouch for the facts of everything I have here related, and I hope I haven't gone to too great length.
Yours truly, Spectator


London Life December 31, 1932 pp. 22 — 25
The Strange Experiences Of A Lover 1-3
Edited by Wallace Stort
(See stories...)


London Life December 31, 1932 p. 47
The World's Most Amazing Woman
Dear Sir, — Truth is always proving itself stranger than fiction — even my sort of fiction! While out in the States recently, I went into a "Wonder Museum" in Philadelphia, and there I saw on exhibition probably the most amazing woman now living, a sheer impossibility, if one had not seen her with ones own eyes. She was about forty-five and quite handsome in a big, Junoesque manner. She was billed as a "Beautiful Living Torso", but she wasn't even a complete torso.
Her body finished a little above her line of the waist, and she was thus not only completely without legs, but without the normal lower part of the body. Her magnificently modelled shoulders, which were left quite bare, merged into two large but well shaped bulbs, actually not stumps of her missing arms, but the rounded-off shoulder-ends.
She was, of course, German — practically all the limbless women I have seen on show have been, for some extraordinary reasons, Germans — and we were told that she had only two ribs on each side instead of the usual number, and that her stomach and the accompanying organs, all of which functioned normally, were placed above the waist, and her heart right up in line with her shoulders.
Her body was neatly finished off at about the waist line, without any scar or deformity, and was furnished with a natural cushion of soft flesh, on which she rested comfortably. She was, of course, completely helpless, and relied entirely on her pretty, uniformed nurse.
She rested while on show on a pedestal, on the cushioned top of which she was afterwards carried round among the audience to prove that she was really a living human being — though even that hardly made one believe one's eyes!
She was loaded with showy, artificial jewellery — three or four heavy necklaces, long, hanging, diamond earrings, pendants, glittering diadems in her stylishly dressed hair, etc. Her face was brilliantly made-up, and her bare, armless bust was carefully rouged and powdered. And her whole attitude, whether real or assumed, was one of immense complaisance and pride in her unique appearance.
The amazing thing was that this incredible fragment of a woman — so we were informed — had not only been married three times, but had actually been divorced, a lover having stolen her from the house of her first husband! Surely a nice problem in sexual psychology for the medical experts!
It is probable that this amazing woman will be exhibited in London during the X-mas holidays.
Yours faithfully
W.S.
(Perhaps the best-known limbless woman of modern times was Sarah Biffen, who became famous as a miniature painter to Queen Victoria. She was born entirely without limbs, and was originally exhibited as a "Limbless Wonder" in country fairs. She was well educated, and was taught to draw and paint, which she did by holding a brush in her mouth. For many years she earned her living by painting miniature portraits, and died at the age of 75 in 1859. In "Nicholas Nickleby" there is an allusion to Miss Biffen by Mrs. Nickleby. — Ed.)

Location: Amputee-story Message: 29 Subject: London Life April 30, 1932 p. 54 From: "Oleg K" <kolga@...> Date: Dec 20, 1999
Location: Y-Gr Amputee-story1 Folder: Files > Devotee magazines > London Life Magazine File: London Life 1932 AS1.rtf (Parts 1-14 just letters, without stories) Posted by: zigadenus_apg98 Text: Kolga1's compilation of the "London Life" letters and stories from 1932 Date: Mar 15, 2008



User avatar

Topic Author
Bazil
Старожил
Posts: 514
Joined: 01 Sep 2017, 23:35
Reputation: 283
Sex: male
Has thanked: 698 times
Been thanked: 630 times
Russia

Re: Letters to the magazine "London Life" 1924-1941

Post: # 25323Unread post Bazil
10 Feb 2018, 10:19

1933

London Life January 28, 1933 p. 47
Interested In One-Legged Girls
Dear Sir, — I should like to hear again from "High-heeled Monoped", "One— legged Phyllis", "One-legged by Choice", who promised to write later giving some of her thrilling experiences. "Single Crutch", "One High Heel", "Crippled Wife", etc. Perhaps each of them would relate some of their experiences they have encountered due to being one-legged. Perhaps also we could prevail upon them to send a photo of themselves wearing a high-heeled shoe.
Mr. Wallace Stort never spoke a truer word than in the New Year's Eve number, that trying to find a one-legged girl was like looking for a needle in a haystack. Personally, I think they are charmingly unique.
Hoping that you will publish this appeal to the one-legged girlies, and hoping they will respond. Now, girls, get your pens and paper and give us that experience of yours.
Looking forward to a response to this appeal.
Yours truly,
Admirer.


London Life January 28, 1933 pp. 12 — 14
The Strange Experiences Of A Lover (continued)
by Wallace Stort
(See stories!...)


London Life February 25, 1933 pp. 20, 21, 33
The Strange Story Of The Courtship A Monopede
by Wallace Stort
(See stories!...)


London Life March 25, 1933 p. 57
High-Heeled Monopede's Congratulations
Dear Sir, — Hearty congratulations on the growing excellence of your most delightful weekly. The stories by Wallace Stort are a credit to the excellent fare which your paper has a name for providing. Being a one— legged girl myself, I take a keen delight in reading of the adventures of other girls of a similar type.
I was introduced to your paper by another girl who has but one leg and who lent me several back numbers containing Wallace Stort's stories and cuttings from letters from one-legged girl readers.
I was very surprised at the number of one-legged girls who read "London Life", but it goes to prove that people will insist on having a weekly paper which caters for them. Bravo! Mr. Editor, please keep it up!
I am also interested in articles and correspondence on the subjects of high heels and tattooing. I have several designs tattooed on various parts of my body, the one on which I am most proud being a lovely spray of roses done in colour on my one and only leg. It reaches from my instep to just below my knee, and is shown up to perfection when wearing a short skirt and a low-cut shoe with a 6 inch heel.
A 6 inch heel is surprisingly easy to manage when using a pair of crutches — but when I wear my peg leg I find the highest heel I can manage with ease is 4 1/2 inches. I am quite proud of my shapely single leg, and delight in showing it to its best advantage by combining a short skirt with ultra high heel.
Could you possibly reprint the article mentioned in a letter by "Roy the Second" entitled "Confessions of a One-legged Bride", as I am to be married in summer, and I should esteem it a great favour if this could be done? If not, is it possible to obtain a copy of the issue containing the article entitled "Le Moignon d'Or"?
Wishing you every success and hoping to see more articles and letters on the fascinating subjects mentioned.
Yours sincerely,
High Heeled Monopede.


London Life March 25, 1933 pp. 22 — 23
The Strange Experiences Of A Lover
by Wallace Stort
(See stories!...)


London Life April 15, 1933 p. 23
The Cruel Plight Of A Crippled Girl
Dear Sir, — I have read with great pleasure the stories by Wallace Stort in your interesting magazine, and trust that you will supply us with many more in the same vein.
A great deal has been said on behalf of the crippled girl who likes to be as she is, and I wonder if you could find space to print this letter from one who does not like to be a cripple.
To put the case in a nutshell, I have only one useful leg. The other is still with me but, as the result of a bad fall, the knee joint has contracted, and the lower half of my leg is fixed immovably at right angles.
I was engaged prior to the fall, but when it became known that I was to be a cripple the man thought it best for us both that we should part.
I am blessed with a fair share of the world's good things and am independent, and am also decidedly not bad looking; but the sight of my useless leg and crutches was sufficient to turn at least one man's love into dislike.
I have, of course, to wear two crutches, as the only alternatives are amputation or a "kneeling" leg, which, incidentally, I have tried.
The leg was a peg, with a kind of tray for the shin to rest in and was quite impossible to put up with, as it meant the use of a very full shirt — and even that was too revealing, even in these enlightened times, apart from the fact that it was hopelessly in the way whilst sitting, and it was far from comfortable, on account of the hip and thigh straps.
I have seriously contemplated amputation, as I am assured that I should be left final, and I should never be able to call the leg back again.
While I am sitting there is absolutely nothing to call attention to my infirmity, as my leg is still quite healthy, but I understand that in the course of a few more years the leg will wither, as I am only able to use the muscles of the thigh.
I am, and always have been, fond of pretty clothes, and even though I am now a useless cripple I see no reason for giving up the things I like. I still wear, for instances, pretty shoes, even if one of them is never soiled, and I spend a good deal of my time looking on the pleasures I once took part in — a thing which has caused a good deal of embarrassment at different times. I am often asked to take a turn on the dance floor or make one of a team at tennis, and I know that strangers often think that I am "stuck up", because I have to say "No"; and it is not till they see me move away that they realise that it is not altogether my fault, as I never keep my crutches in evidence when I am seated. I hate the sight of the things, and although I have been told by many people that they are my best friends, I have not been using them long enough to realise that.
Perhaps in time I shall get over my horror of being a cripple, but it seems very hard to be young and good looking and fairly well-off, and yet so useless.
Judging from my remarks, it may perhaps be thought that I do not think it possible for a girl to actually like being a cripple, but such I know not to be the case, as one of my oldest friends is herself one-legged, with only a very tiny scrap of leg left — a mere three inches, in fact — but she is one of the cheeriest souls imaginable, and she manages to get the best out of life.
She does all the work of her little bachelor flat, even scrubbing the floors and doing the washing, which she accomplishes by resting her tiny stump on the table of the wash-tub.
She wears a very elaborate artificial limb out of doors, and gets about quite gaily on it, but indoors she discards it for a single crutch.
I must further point out that it is decidedly expensive to be one-legged or crippled in such a way as to necessitate the use of a crutch, as the artificial limbs cost anything up to 40 Pounds, even a peg-leg costs 5 Pounds, and a really comfortable crutch costs 3 Ј 10 shillings for the pair, as the cheap kind, costing only l5 shillings a pair, are a very false economy, as they are hard on one's clothes and chafe the armpits.
Crutches very quickly wear out one's clothes, and I have already found a way to obviate this to some extent, as I wear leather insets in my costumes, and wearing an overcoat, or a fur coat I wear the crutches inside the coat and grip the crutch through the specially widened pockets.
I cannot wear a single crutch, as the swing of my useless leg causes me to sway far too much.
Please keep Mr. Stort up to scratch and publish all the letters you can get.
Yours truly,
Dot And Carry One.


London Life April 29, 1933 P-L933 p. 45
Confessions Of A Brave Monopede
Dear Sir, — It is many moons since I last wrote to you, and I think it is high time I did so, as nobody else appears to — at any rate, the sort of people I like seeing letters from.
The "Stort" series are very fine; but why make them so very brief?
Now for a few suggestions.
Would you get Wallace Stort to bring in a girl using a peg leg and your artist to illustrate it, and can we have a few pictures of a girl wearing a single crutch. The crutch I am using is of the armpit pattern, has a revolving head on springs in the bows, and is ever so comfortable. The peg leg is the usual type for wear for loss above the knee. I have two in use occasionally. It is fastened by means of a belt round the stump and attached in turn to the two shoulder straps.
It is padded at the bottom of the socket and is also sewn up the right side in such a manner that it had lost much of its fullness whilst giving a little extra warmth, as I find that in severe frost my stump ached so much from the cold that I had to use a woollen stump stocking in place of the silk one I normally wear.
I have now become so used to one leg that I can undertake all the work of the house, — in the house, rather — I can manage to do most of the working. Cooking and floor sweeping are no terrors for me. As for washing, I rest my stump on the table which supports the washing tub, and use the arm as it were a staff; and this, combined with my ability to balance and hop is more than sufficient support for me.
I get over the difficulty of moving from table to oven by drawing the table up fairly close to the oven, and by side-long motion of the toe and heel I carry all that is necessary for me to use whilst carrying anything in my grounds.
I do not wear corsets and to prevent my suspender belt from getting one— sided — as it only has the pull of one stocking on it — I cut the suspenders on the right side off and shorten the elastic right up and sew them on the rim and fix the suspenders to my stump stocking, and thus maintain even an pull on both sides.
I am still fond of wearing a shoe with a heel that is almost too high for me to manage, and with some of my shoes that I have recently acquired only the tips of my toes touch the floor; but Dick is always ready to carry me from room to room.
I have one shoe which has ankle and instep straps and a heel 5 inches high and I can just manage to move about with it on by the use of two crutches. It is a black matter with a patent heel and lizard piping.
On extra special occasions I still delight in wearing the one with the blocked toe and the heel 7 inches high, which I told you about in a former letter, and which I have since found out was made specially by Dick's firm as a kind of sample to show in shop windows to illustrate the heels.
Needless to say, whilst wearing it I am quite helpless and am only able to stand for a little while without some support.
In my last letter I hinted rather broadly that something was going to happen to me. Well, it did, — but I am sorry to say that it died. I will say no more. We are both heartbroken.
I have now gone back to my high heel, but have not worn the artificial limb since my recovery, and get about all day now with the aid of a crutch.
The recent heavy snow kept me indoors quite a lot, as it is extremely risky to go out on crutches in such heavy snow, and it became necessary to get somebody to help me with the housework. Dick obtained the services of a girl and, strange to say, she is also lame in that she has a leg 5 inches shorter than its fellow, and wears a cork sole on her boot.
Since my recovery Dick has showered all sorts of wonderful presents on me, and among them are some wonderful sets of lingerie, all in pale blue silk, with suspender-belts and garters to match.
In spite of our great disappointment we are still just as happy — we could not be more so — and Dick is never tired of seeing me either swinging about on a crutch or undertaking my little shopping excursions, and I know that he admirers my single pedal extremity more than anybody else admires the finest pair of legs in the world.
Yours truly,
Helen Nee Fivetoes


London Life April 29, 1933 pp. 30 — 32
The Strange Experiences Of A Lover
by Wallace Stort
(See stories!...)

London Life May 13, 1933 p. 22
Advice To Monopedes
Dear Sir, — I feel I should let you know how much my husband and I have enjoyed reading Mr Wallace Stort's articles about one-legged girls. Jim, my husband lost a leg during the war, and I had my left foot amputated three years ago.
I do not know whether Mr. Stort has written any articles where the heroine has had a foot taken off — all I have read concerns girls who have had a leg amputated above the knee. If he had done so, I should like to read it. I am glad I came across Mr. Stort's articles, as I thought I was abnormal in my monopedic kink, and the idea worried me not a little. Now I know, though I may be a little out of the ordinary, I am certainly not unique.
I have also discovered that Jim has the kink to a marked degree. Though I am considered a very pretty girl, he has confessed that the greater attraction I had for him was my missing foot. Of course affinity caused by his own disability may be the reason for this.
I have always been a puzzle to myself. I have a most peculiar obsession about my feet. I paid more attention to them than I paid to my hands, and whenever I was alone I went about barefooted, with the result that feet were as nearly perfect as could be. The most peculiar thing is the fascination amputation has for me.
Four years ago I was in Paris for six months, and while there, there was a craze among the Smart Set to have their little toes taken off. So I — for absolutely no reason out the thrill — had my left little toe amputated. I must say I never missed it, and I had no regrets afterwards, as I found that my left foot was much more comfortable in my tiny size 3 high-heeled shoe, than my right, which had the full complement of toes.
As a result I made up my mind that whenever I had time I would have the little toe taken off my right foot as well. Fate, however, took a hand in the game, and as a result of a motoring accident I found myself in hospital with my left foot badly damaged. I was told that I could be patched up but that I would always be lame.
My kink immediately took possession of me, and I made up my mind that, rather than go through life with a permanently disabled and probably ugly foot, I would have it off. I asked the doctor if he would amputate it. He was not very willing, as he did not consider it necessary. But I persisted, and rather against his will, he agreed; so after signing a form indemnifying the hospital from all claims, my foot was amputated at the ankle.
I shall never forget the queer feeling I had the first time I was allowed up, and I felt so helpless and my kink was for the time being forgotten. However, it was no good regretting, so I resolved to make the best of it, and now I really enjoy having only one foot. It makes me feel different from other girls, and I get such a variety of sensations.
Out of doors I wear such a perfect fitting substitute that no one would suspect it to be artificial. Jim got the shock of his life when I told him. In the privacy of my rooms I have a dinky little peg fixed to the socket, like the leg of a high boot, which is secured to the calf of my leg with a zip fastener; but one accomplishment I have is when I play Badminton. I take off my foot and strap my leg back above my knee, and I can hop about on one foot with more agility than most people can who have both their feet. I have also developed my remaining foot to marked degree. I still, when I am alone, go about with it bare.
I believe it is good for the feet to give them as much freedom as possible, and any girl who has really pretty feet should not be afraid to expose them in their natural nudity. I would like to see more photographs of pretty girls with bare feet in "London Life".
My toes have become prehensile, and I can pick up small objects with them as easily as I can with my hands, and I amuse myself sometimes with trying to write with a pencil held between my toes — but not with much success. Needless to say that I am not going to part with my only toe.
My advice to girls who have lost a foot or a leg is to make the best of it. Nature compensates us for everything we lose, and in addition to the added strength and ability in the remaining limb we have the gratification of knowing that to hundreds of men we are really more attractive than our unmutilated sisters.
To all young monopedes I would like to say, don't sit down under your misfortune. Try to turn it into an asset. Dress as well as you can afford; and — most important — be attractive. If you do this you will find that you will enjoy being different to other people.
yours faithfully,
Gladys.


London Life May 27, 1933 p. 58
One-Legged But Happy
Dear Sir, — Being a one-legged Sheik I endorse Sadie's remark and think it's time dear old "London Life" gave us a showing.
When in London recently I saw a couple of one-legged fellows give a very clever performance at a music hall, and I wonder their photo didn't appear in your paper. I read somewhere that they met by chance in a boot shop, where one wanted a left shoe and the other a right boot.
Well, Sadie, my dear, I'm one-legged right enough, with my left leg reduced by a train accident to a stump of about 14 inches. I prefer a crutch to a peg or cork leg, both of which drag to heavily on the stump. Give me the swinging freedom of a crutch any day.
I can't say my loss troubles me. The fact is, there is something almost fascinating in being minus a limb.
A lot of sloppy sentiment is wasted on one-legged and legless people. Admitted, it is a bit awkward hopping upstairs or climbing difficult places, but people forget that, as the blood circuit of the one-legged, especially the legless, is shortened, their life is likely to be lengthened through the strengthening of the heart.
Since losing my leg I've been twice as fit as before. So let the tender hearted weep over something less tragic.
Yours truly,
One-Legged Sheik


London Life June 24, 1933 p. 56
The Attraction Of Monopedes
Dear Sir, — I find the question whether a monopede is more attractive using a pair of crutches, a single crutch or a peg leg most absorbing. My own preference is for the monopede who uses a single crutch. I was confirmed in this view by the beautiful girl I saw not long ago in one of the suburbs.
The weather being doubtful, she was clad in a short skirt, over which she wore a macintosh. She sat down opposite to me in the bus I was on, and I was much intrigued by her incomplete perfection, and her single neat crutch. You will be interested to know that I succeeded in making her acquaintance, and I hope to write more concerning her in the near future.
I was also interested to read the letter from Miss Gladys Sadie. I shall hope she will response to Wallace Stort's appeal.
I hope any other reader who knows of any book where this absorbing topic is dealt with will pass on the information to you.
Yours truly,
Marcel


London Life June 24, 1933 p. 57
One-Legged Lovers
Dear Sir, — I was particularly interested in Sadie's latter in a recent issue of your paper concerning "one-legged Sheiks". For I happen to be married to one, and I myself am also one-legged. So we are well matched.
I never knew what it was to have two legs, as I was born with my left leg ending in a stump just below the knee. My husband lost his right leg just above the knee when a boy.
Naturally one-legged girls fascinated him most. The same in my case. One— legged men have always thrilled me. In fact, I quite delight in seeing their tucked-up trouser-leg, which resembles a neat little pouch, and always don trousers or breeches indoors, with the left leg sewn into a similar pouch.
Strange, too, Sadie mentioning "velvet bags", termed "corduroy" on this side of the Atlantic. Both my husband and I are intrigued by this material. I love to see him in his dark brown velvet corduroys.
When we are together we discard our crutches and use each other as supports. We love hopping about like this together. It is such fun.
My husband is never happier than when I am wearing velvet corduroy breeches in the softer, more feminine quality, or a dainty corded frock. We don't even object to the rather penetrating earthy odour which usually arises from corduroy. After all, this is very similar to the scent of Harris tweed. Perhaps Sadie will be interested to hear that I met my future husband in a railway carriage. How well I remember the eventful day, when, catching a train to Derby, I opened the door of the compartment, throwing my crutch and bag on the seat, hopped in. Whereupon the following startling facts presented themselves to me: There were two crutches on the seat where I had thrown mine my own and a stranger's. Then I became aware of a man sitting in the corner seat, and caught a glimpse of a corduroyed masculine leg partly concealed by the newspaper. How those blue eyes of his stared, first at me, then swiftly down at my corduroy skirt.
Well, I hopped to a corner seat, and was about to put my bag on the rack when a masculine voice said, "Allow me," and the man in the corner jumped up and came to my assistance — or rather hopped. For, to my delight, I realised that the newspaper had concealed the fact that my fellow-traveller was also one-legged, with the right leg of his brown corduroy breeches ending above the knee.
Following the direction of my gaze as he balanced himself on his one leg, he laughed gaily. "We seem to have some points in common!"
"W... why?... yes!" I gasped. It's all rather amazing!"
Balancing myself on my only leg, I watched him as he deftly put my bag on the rack. I remember so well that, as he reached up, the ribbed surface of my skirt scraped against the corduroy of his trousers with that rather intriguing "Squeak" which this material makes when chaffing together.
It was a case of love at first sight. How extraordinarily interesting our bodies and the clothes of our bodies can be! Life is a strange thing.
Yours truly,
One Legged Mate


London Life July 29, 1933 p. 57
The Fascination Of Monopedes
Dear Sir, — Since returning from the Argentine last Christmas I have become a regular reader of "London Life", and in view of the experiences of "Marcel", so excellently told by Wallace Stort, and the obvious enthusiasm with which they are received, I think it worthwhile to relate some Of my own experiences.
I was in business as an estate agent in a large town in Argentine, and one day a clerk brought in a card bearing the name of a lady who was unknown to me. I immediately directed that she be shown in, and I think I may be excused if I betrayed my surprise as she entered my room. She was young and charming, and swung gracefully into my room supported by a single crutch, the reason for which was that her right leg was missing.
I mastered my surprise and arranged a chair for my visitor, placing it where I had a full view of its occupant. In the flimsy blue summer frock which she wore she was, to me, devastating.
Suffice it to say that I was able to suit her requirements, as indeed I would have moved heaven and earth to do. After a little delay the business we had was concluded, but this notwithstanding my acquaintance with the beautiful monopede continued and ripened into friendship.
At first I, naturally, made no reference to June's (that is what I will call her) loss of a leg. Late one night, however, when we were returning from a show, I summoned up courage to link up my arm in hers and tell her something of my feelings towards her. To my relief she just nestled her golden head contentedly on my shoulder.
I confessed that I loved her, not in spite of her loss, but partly, at any rate, because of it. She admitted that she had guessed this from the first. She told me that she had lost her leg when she was sixteen, and that at first she was much depressed at her loss.
Gradually she had settled down to her new condition and had observed that some men, at any rate, paid her considerable attention. She mentioned this to another one-legged girl with whom she had become friendly, and Amy (for that was her name) explained to the not altogether surprised June that there were men that actually preferred monopedes to normal girls. After that June made no effort to disguise the fact that she was one-legged, and entirely ceased to use the artificial leg which she had bought.
My friendship with June ripened into love, and before I close this letter I should like to mention the party to which June took me some three months after I first met her. The dinner took place at a large country house, the owner being a wealthy merchant who had himself lost a leg. I understood from June that he had married recently and had taken the house and the object of the dinner was to introduce his wife and her friends to his old friends, including June, who was his niece. He received us cordially, and then, stepping lightly along on his crutches, he took us in to introduce us to his wife. She proved to be little older than June herself, and was dressed in a fragile silvery material; but the amazing thing was that she, too, had only one leg. In her case it was the left leg that was missing, and I was interested to see that she used a neat peg-leg. I judged correctly, as it afterwards appeared, that she had lost her leg above the knee.
The first guest to whom we were introduced was none other than June's friend, Amy. She proved to be a smiling brunette, and the flimsy dress she wore showed to perfection her glorious figure. She used a pair of elbow crutches, and I observed as she sat down that her stump was slightly shorter than June's.
With her was her fiancй, a young and handsome man, below whose left hip was a stump neatly tucked up in his shortened trouser leg. He stood up without the aid of a crutch, although I observed one near his side.
Among a number of normal guests there were two other one-legged girls. One was a girl who reminded me forcibly of Anita Page. She used a pair of crutches and she had no stump whatever, her left leg having been amputated at the hip. The other girl was dark and, I imagine, of Spanish origin. She used a single crutch and made more display of her one-leggedness than the other monopedes present.
She was obviously aware or the attraction her single leg had for many men, and she had numerous little tricks to remind one that she had a beautiful figure and only one leg.
I am afraid this letter is rather long, but if you care to publish it I will describe the party I went to in more detail and tell you more of the one-legged ladies and gentlemen I met there.
Yours truly,
Monopede Lover


London Life August 26, 1933 pp. 60 — 61
The Fascination Of Crutches
Dear Sir, — I must thank you far publishing my letter in your July double numbers; and, as promised, I now write to relate my further experiences at the dinner which, as I have told you, was attended by no fewer than five monopedes and two one-legged men.
After dinner I missed June and found myself in the company of the beautiful Spanish-looking girl, whose name was Dolores and the girl whom I have likened to Anita Page, and will therefore call Anita.
We walked along for some distance in the grounds of the house, and I noted how each time as Dolores placed her single crutch forward and how charming she looked. Anita, too, made a pretty picture as she swung gracefully along on her crutches.
We found a seat at last, and I was able to sit opposite the two girls.
I was wondering what to talk about, when Dolores solved my problem. "Well, Mr. Ensor," she said, "don't you find it strange to have dined with so many lame ducks?"
I replied that I found it strange but pleasant, and that I could not accept the words "lame ducks". After that the conversation never lagged, and I found out a good deal of the history and thoughts of the two incomplete beauties.
Dolores, apparently had lost her right leg when quite a child. Her loss did not worry her until she reached her teens, and there she became acutely conscious of it. When she was 15 she had an artificial leg made, and she used this for two years. During this time, although she was a girl of exceptional beauty, she received little attention from the opposite s*ex. Soon after she was 18 however, a slight accident damaged the leg, and she was forced to use crutches. The very first time she used them she was followed by a young man, who eventually spoke to her. The young man asked her to take dinner with him, and an appointment was fixed.
Dolores duly kept the appointment and appeared daintily dressed and using her artificial leg, which had been repaired. She was surprised to notice that the boys face dropped when he saw her. However, he was very nice to her, but did not suggest another appointment.
Once again the leg had to go back for repairs, and Dolores took to her crutches. Again she met the boy, who asked her to go to a show with him at a future date. That night Dolores received a note from the boy asking her to use her crutches when she met him. This request caused her to wonder whether after all her one-legness was repugnant.
At any rate, she complied with his request, and at that meeting the boy revealed that her single leg and crutches did appeal to him. Thereafter Dolores abandoned her artificial leg and took to crutches, and eventually to a single crutch.
Anita was then persuaded to give her own history. She was perhaps less thrilled with her condition than Dolores. She had lost her leg only two years previously, and the loss compelled her to abandon a promising stage career. She confessed, however, that she was glad to find that there were people who found her single leg charming, and therefore made no effort to disguise her loss.
At this juncture we were joint by our host and hostess and June. I was thrilled to see that June was clad only in bathing costume, it being her intention to bath in the beautiful partly natural and partly artificial lake in the grounds.
I think I can best give my readers an accurate idea how June looked by asking them to imagine a girl of the beauty of Vilma Banky clad in a costume revealing every line of her figure, standing supported by a single slender crutch.
Yours truly,
Lover Of Monopedes.


London Life September 30, 1933
Experiences Of A Limbless Girl
Dear Sir, — I have just only made up my mind to write to you or the subject of "Limbless Beauties". It was because of my disabilities that I came to know your paper — a friend of mine jokingly telling me he could cure me of sensitiveness.
I was informed some time ago that it would be possible to communicate with others similarly situated to myself — through you. Is this so? This is my main reason for writing, as I cannot imagine others being interested unless they themselves are of the Limbless Brigade.
I am 23 years of age, tall and dark. Eighteen months ago I had my photo accepted in a beauty competition, but did not comply with the request for a full-length photo. The one I sent was merely head and neck.
Well, to get over the sensitiveness, I have only one leg and one arm — the result of enteric fever about four years ago. Luckily, if one can say so — I lost the opposite limbs — that is, my left leg and right arm.
I would like to tell you of some of my experiences, because I certainly have found it wise to ignore my limbless condition as much as possible; but I am still very shy of strangers. I am very active, and as the enteric fever sort of concentrated only in my left leg and right arm, I am still very fit after many years of physical exercise, tennis and other games.
I can ride a bicycle, but I don't fancy it when anybody is about. I have often gone for a ride with my friend in the evenings away from the town, and have sometimes ridden entirely alone. I have felt very shaky, and just forced myself to do it, and once met with a very embarrassing experience.
I had my bicycle fixed, the unnecessary pedal removed, and also free-wheel. My friend fixed a rifle-carrying arrangement up for my crutch, and by starting off from home down hill I manage quite well.
I decided some time ago that a peg-leg was lighter, more convenient and, with the exception of a party night, I always use it, but cannot use it on my bicycle.
The embarrassing thing happened only a few months ago. I cannot imagine it interesting to anyone else unless they are similarly situated.
I had set off just after dark, and risked going through the quieter parts of the town; and, of course, on that night of all nights something happened. It was rather windy, and I was wearing a thin mac over my frock, the frock being rather on the short side.
Anyway the tail of the mac got into the chain and that, of course, had to happen underneath a street light. I fell to the left, luckily, and was able to save myself a bit. Had it been the other way I must have had a bad fall at least.
I was more shocked than hurt, naturally, because it was the first time that I dared out; and, of course, it had to happen on a light part, with several people about! The bicycle slithered some distance away from me, and there I was without a crutch. Now it is all over I can laugh; but to have to hop about two or three yards in full view of others was very uncomfortable, and I cannot imagine anybody doing it for amusement! At any rate, it brought me a very dear friend who, seeing my predicament, came to my assistance, made me get into his vanette, and put my bicycle into the back and drove me home. I had same bruises, but nothing to worry about. So that's that.
I notice some of your correspondents describing their shortcomings; so will I. The remains of my left leg is very short. In fact if it was any shorter I would not have been able to wear a peg-leg. I decided that an artificial leg was so really obvious that I might just as well go the whole hog and wear the ordinary pin wooden leg.
I think my past life must have helped me a lot, being athletic all my life I have managed to overcome my handicap better than many would, I have no doubt. I have walked as much as five miles, but that is very tiring and uncomfortable. For ordinary needs walking comes quite easy. In fact the loss of my arm helps me to forget my leg. It is the arm I miss most.
I wear an artificial arm, but it is of absolutely no use to me, except to cover up the fact that my right arm is missing. Unless I am going into company I never use it, and similarly at home I always use the peg-leg or my crutch.
I can write with my left hand, but it seems more effort than riding a bicycle and many other things I do. I did manage to raise courage to go for a swim, but am scared stiff of anyone coming along. I always used to bathe in the river, close by. It is shaded, but difficult to approach — for me.
Yours truly,
Ruth. (South Africa)


London Life September 30, 1933 pp. 49 — 50
My Limbless Friends
Dear sir, — The letters from your readers about their fascination about one-armed girls and men with one leg very greatly rouse my interest. That is because for the last fifty years I have known, and been closely associated with, an extraordinary number of these abnormal and unfortunate people not as a doctor or anything but a business and personal capacity.
I must explain. I have been in the show and circus business ever since I ran away from home to join Barnum's World Show, when I was a schoolboy of 13. After picking up a living as odd lad about the tents, I graduated into a high-trapeze troupe, and later had a speciality gymnast turn of my own, with which I toured the New and the Old Worlds, topping the bill everywhere.
As Anno Domini laid its stiffening hand on me, I began to run side-shows in circuses and exhibitions — fasting men, fat women, midgets, giants, etc. In particular I have engaged and shown under my direct personal management more of these "novelties" the public call them freaks, which is bitterly resented by the exhibitees — than any other living showman.
Your correspondents write of monopedes and one-armed folk. From a show standpoint there is no attraction in these unlucky cripples. But some of my most extraordinary successes have been men and women born without arms; without legs; and without arms and legs.
In some curious way Nature always acts in duplicate: So that limbs are missing in pairs. During all my long experience I have met only a solitary individual who was born with one arm. She was a good-looking girl; and, barring the missing right arm, physically perfect and attractive.
Lifelong use of only one arm made her able to get through life as easily as most people do with two. She was married, and had one child. It was very interesting to see how dexterously she nursed, washed, dressed, fed and tended her baby single-handed.
For this reason I was able to give her an engagement for about a year. She was a great attraction to women, who flocked to watch her deft toilet of the baby, admiring at once her cleverness and pitying her deformity.
As the baby grew up, the interest lackened. She dropped out of the show business, which had tided over some disastrous time in her husband's business, and she returned to him to set up a new home out of her exhibition earnings with a nice little nest egg left over.
More extraordinary was the man whom I stared for many years as the "Comte sans Bras et Jambes", or in England and the States "The Limbless Lord".
That is exactly what he was — except that he wasn't really a nobleman. But he had neither arms nor legs. He was born just a body — a perfect trunk fully grown and proportioned, but without even rudiments of arms at the shoulders and thighs at the hips.
His face was frank and handsome, with curly hair, deep blue eyes, a charming smile and manner. He enjoyed the soundest health — I mean really enjoyed it, for he never ailed and, despite his helplessness, lived heartily and with a laugh all the time.
In some countries doctors quietly end the life of such abnormalities at birth. If he had been so extinguished he would never have known life which he found so well worth living, and the world at large have lost the interest which hundreds of thousands of people obtained from visiting and seeing the strange wonders of which Nature is capable.
He was put into the show business when scarcely out of babyhood. This was not in England, but in Russia before the Bolshevik Revolution. As a valuable exhibit he was cared for as his peasant parents could not or would never have done. His earnings provided them with a comfortable addition to their earnings and made a very much more than comfortable fortune for himself.
Indeed by the time he was 40 he was wealthy, with a flat in Paris, a villa on the Riviera — both his own property — and a substantial income from investments. He took four months' holiday a year, going on show for only eight months.
Being legless and armless you must think he was also helpless. That is true to only a certain extent; but it was mystifying what he could do.
For instance, he wrote a good hand — I mean he wrote quite well, holding the pen or pencil in his teeth.
It was staggering to see what he could do with that mouth, those lips and teeth of his. Lying on his tummy he could feed himself at a pinch and not make a mess of it either. Usually he was carried everywhere by an attendant, but in his flat he would get about by rolling over and over across the rooms, which had swing doors, through which he rolled his way.
He was a most jovial companion, and enjoyed thoroughly seeing and being seen by the crowd who flocked to his side-show. He travelled all over the world, and not least interesting is the fact of his marriage.
She was tall, Junoesque, and as perfect a women as he was the limbless trunk of a man, scarcely bigger than a seven-year-old lad. For it is extraordinary how small is the human body without its usual arms and legs.
They had no fewer than nine children — six boys and three girls — each absolutely physically perfect, remarkably handsome, and the girls real peaches.
It was an ideally happy family. She adored her husband; and, despite his disability, he was a gallant devoted lover. Sometimes too gallant for her peace of mind, for his attractiveness to other women was immense.
Time and again, in my show life, I have noticed how strangely some women are fascinated by dwarfed, midget, undersized men and — but not the same extent — by giants, lion-headed men, etc. In every town some women would fall for my limbless Count. They used to spend the whole day going in each time he was on view, thronging as near as possible to him and doing anything to get a word or smile from him.
If I had not kept a sharp look-out I am sure he would have been abducted by some passion-smitten spinster or widow. He had adventures I was powerless to stop, though ultimately, at his wife's request, I went through all the letters addressed to him and handed over the least inflammable of these missives.
They arrived by the dozens every day, and were a revelation what women think, feel, and can pour out to an utter stranger. Of course it was all good for business, but his wife's jealousy would literally flame at times, and I had the job not only of making peace but of protecting him of the correction which mothers administer to small sons, not wives to husbands, even when the latter is only the size of a little schoolboy.
Then there was La Renйe de Vallйe, one of the most charming and beautiful women I have ever met, though she was born without arms. I have often dreamed how exquisite her hands would have been if she had had them instead of nothing below her lovely shoulders.
I knew how wonderful her arms and hands must have been, because I knew the beauty of her feet and legs. To see her kick off her shoes, seat herself at the piano, her supple toes twinkling over the notes to evoke dreamy or thrilling music. I can never forget the grace of her every movement, the vivacity and beauty of her face, her wit and charm.
I starred her in three countries, over here and every state in America, and Canada. She would not go to Australia, because her mother — to whom she was devoted as only French children can be, feared so long a voyage, and everywhere that La Vallйe went her mother must go too.
Not that La Vallйe was helpless because she was armless. Au contraire, she was defter with her toes and feet than many a tennis Amazon with her two hands. She would pick up a pin with her toes, and I know (though I never saw) that she could carry through her toilette without any aid or assistance. From babyhood (her parents were French peasants) she had instinctively used her legs and feet and toes where others use their hands and fingers. Her limbs were accordingly so supple and deft that with an upswung leg she could fasten a button or broach at her neck or adjust a lace collar.
She was not 40 when she retired to the little chвteau she had bought near her native village for herself and her mother. The man she was to have married was killed during the war.
I am afraid, Mr. Editor, I have run most unconscionably, though I have written only of two or three people; but your live paper has spurred my pen.
Yours truly,
Barnum Junior.



User avatar

Topic Author
Bazil
Старожил
Posts: 514
Joined: 01 Sep 2017, 23:35
Reputation: 283
Sex: male
Has thanked: 698 times
Been thanked: 630 times
Russia

Re: Letters to the magazine "London Life" 1924-1941

Post: # 25324Unread post Bazil
10 Feb 2018, 10:20

London Life September 30, 1933 pp. 56 — 57
The Quest Of Limbless Beauty
Dear Sir, — I have recently returned from a long tour in the United States, but I am afraid I haven't anything particularly new to report of my travels this time. I visited, among other places, the big Chicago exhibition, and while there, of course, paid a visit to several side shows included in the entertainment.
I was disappointed to find only one representative of the limbless beauty cult: Martha Morris, and her I had seen several times before. Miss Morris is billed as an "Armless wonder", and is a quite pretty brunette with perfect, unblemished shoulders that reveal not a single trace of either arms or stumps. She is, too, to all intents and purposes, legless, as her tiny pretty feet are attached practically to her hips.
She uses her feet and toes as hands and fingers, and the interesting thing is that she cannot walk, and never has done, her feet have always been used as hands. She has been before the American public for at least ten years, to my knowledge, and has never travelled anywhere else.
I did not go to Coney Island this year, as I was nowhere near New York most of my stay, except, of course, for passing through it. There is, however, I learnt, another armless girl there, billed as "Thelma" who is probably somebody who I have seen under another name.
I mention her because there was an interesting item in the newspapers in connection with her show. Among her visitors one day was a young Italian millionaire and his newly married bride, both in the States on their honeymoon.
To "Thelma's" surprise the pretty bride "shook hands" with one of her feet and thus revealed the intriguing fact that she also was armless! She had been an armless acrobat in an Italian circus, and, as the report went, "had so captivated the young millionaire with her performance that he had wooed and married her."
An other item of news in the paper revealed an interesting fact. You may remember that some years ago a member of the famous Ziegfeld Follies, Phyllida Corkran, while taking part in a wild motor party, was involved in a crash which resulted in severe injuries to both her legs. Ultimately her right leg was amputated near the hip, and she had, of course, to retire from the stage. She married shortly afterwards, and nothing was heard of her.
I was therefore very interested to see in one of the papers one day a photograph of a very pretty woman in a wheel-chair, with a lovely baby in her lap. Above the photo was the caption "Beautiful legless ex-Folly girl now a happy mother".
It was quite plain from the photograph that Phyllida had now no legs at all, and in a brief resume of her story below the photograph it was revealed that she had had her remaining leg amputated a few months after her marriage. However, she looked, as the caption described her, a very "happy mother".
I had, however, one interesting experience of my own, though I was not then in a side-show or on the look-out for examples of limbless beauty. I happened to be in a pleasant suburb of Detroit, and was waiting at a car stop one afternoon. I had seen the lady and her pretty daughter standing near, but it was only when the woman moved that I suddenly became interested in the girl.
The left sleeve of her pretty frock, which was the nearest to me, and which was only a short affair dropping only a few inches below the shoulder, was, I noted, empty. But as she was rather full-busted, I wasn't sure whether or not her arm was inside the frock, bound up because of some injury. I slowly moved towards the pair and encircled them. I satisfied myself at once that it was the girl's nicely rounded bust that was outlined on the frock and that her left arm was definitely absent. But what was my astonishment, when, as I passed I saw that the right sleeve was also empty!
The girl was unmistakably entirely armless; and I had certainly never encountered such a case in the public streets during the whole of my travels.
I mentioned this extraordinary encounter to a local friend that evening. He knew the girl quite well. She was in fact known to everybody in the district. She had been born without arms, but apparently her parents, relatives and friends had thought it best not to make a fuss about the matter or to let the girl think she was very different from other girls.
She attended the local high school with all the other normally formed girls. She used her toes instead of fingers, and now the thing had become so familiar that none of her school friends thought it was extraordinary. She played games, moved about the streets sometimes unaccompanied, and lived a happy cheerful life, just as any other schoolgirl.
They do such things in America, and I think it's a good thing. Here we segregate such children, and they grow up realising that they are not the same as other people, always sensitive about their deformities and very often unhappy because of the way they have been brought up.
However, I have run at a terrific length. I hope you'll forgive me.
With all best wishes.
Wallace Stort


London Life October 28, 1933 p. 62
Fascinated By One-Legged Girls
Dear Sir, — I was interested to read "Barnum Junior's" letter, but personally, when more than one limb is missing I am not so attracted, partly no doubt because of the handicap imposed on the victim; nor does the loss of an arm intrigue me as does the loss of a leg.
I must confess, however, that the sight of a pretty one-legged girl swinging along on a crutch or crutches has a great fascination for me. I do not like a peg-leg, and I abominate the artificial leg, the use of which always gives a very ugly walk.
What do your other readers think on this subject?
Yours truly,
Lover Of Monopedes.


London Life October 28, 1933 p. 45
The Ghost Hand. Life With One Limb
Dear Sir, — In the letter which "Ruth" sends from South Africa narrating some of her experiences of life with one leg and one arm, I am very greatly interested. It is the first experience I have ever come across describing single-handedness in someone else, for I, too, have only one arm, though I am more fortunate than your correspondent in still remaining two legs.
Also, unlike Ruth, it is my right arm which is missing; and though this may seem strange, you will understand when I explain that I am naturally left— handed. This means that I am still possessed, like Ruth, of the hand with which I have always chiefly done things all my life. If I had lost my left hand I should have had to learn again how to write, use a knife, and shave, wash, dress, etc, with untrained, clumsy fingers. I agree absolutely with Ruth that no artificial arm in the world is of any use at all if the amputation is above the elbow. Even the finest and mechanically cleverest arm is more a burden than an aid if the elbow joint is gone.
All that is left of my arm is about two inches from the shoulder; and after long, patient trials with an artificial arm (it cost 50 Pounds), I abandoned it nearly two years ago. For a girl to lose a limb (not to say two) seems infinitely harder luck on her than it is on a man.
It would be veritably interesting to exchange experiences with another one— handed person and compare the different dodges we use to do the daily things that everybody else uses two hands for. There are three, at least, ways of tying one's shoe or bootlaces single-handed.
Washing, shaving and one's toilet generally are, of course, quite easy, though the operations take about a third more time to carry out with one hand instead of two. For a woman in the same plight the handicap must be much heavier I imagine.
Of course, you cannot brush one's hand, so you have to hand the brush. That is to say I place the nail-brush on the washbasin ledge with the bristles upward. I soap the brush and then rub my hand to and fro on it, instead of rubbing the brush on my hand.
I wonder how Ruth gets on for manicuring. I think I am prouder of being able to do that than almost anything else. When first I lost my arm I used to go to a manicurist to get my nails cut and cleaned. After a time, when I discovered they charged me 1 shilling 6 pence for one hand though their price was half-a-crown for two, I determined to fend for myself.
And now I tend and trim my finger-nails myself — my hand clean itself, in this way. To cut the nails, I slip a manicure file between the pages of a book, sit on the book to keep it and the file steady, and then rub each finger-nail in turn along the file.
With practice I have come now to have as shapely nails as any normal two— handed man. With an orange-stick held in the same way in a book, I achieve the final clean and trim.
It is the little unexpected things which Ruth and other single-handers (and I) find most annoying and difficult. Opening an envelope, for instance — try it yourself with one hand only. Or putting a letter into an envelope, or separating one postage stamp from another. See far yourselves, two— handers, what you can make of such trifling jobs with one hand only.
Eating is quite simple with a special knife-fork. The outside prong is replaced by a small knife-blade, so that with this fork one can both cut up the food and then raise it to the mouth.
But no one-handed person in the world can butter a piece of toast on a plate. The toast slips and flies off. Yet it is quite simple if you place the toast on the table-cloth for the slice gets a grip there, and you apply butter without a mishap.
A very strange fact to end with: Though it is over twelve years since I lost my arm, I still feel my hand and fingers. They are no longer there, but despite my knowledge and reason, I feel that they are. Indeed, I can feel and even move each finger, the thumb, the palm of my hand, and my wrist.
This ghost-hand is a conscious fact. Everyone who has a limb amputated knows it as a reality. Doctors admit it and explain it as the subconscious working of the nerves to a hand or limb that no longer exists. And it pains, too.
Dame Nature can be very stupid — I am sure Ruth will admit that, even against her own s*ex.
Yours truly,
Single-Handed.


London Life October 28, 1933 pp. 27 — 28
The Strange Experiences Of A Lover
by Wallace Stort
(See stories!...)

London Life December 23, 1933 p. 19
A Club For The Limbless Only
An Evening At The "Odds And Ends".
Somewhere in London — the address cannot be more definite — there flourishes quietly and happily a little society or club, all of whose members have one or more members missing. That is an essential condition of election to this unique club, the only one of its kind in Britain, and possibly the world.
As one of the original founders of "The Odds and Ends" — that is our name — let me hasten to say that it is in no sense whatever a charitable or a medical institution.
We refused to regard ourselves as crippled or maimed. We ask for or would tolerate no ones pity. On the contrary — this may seem strange but it is so — we have almost a certain pride in the deficiency of a leg or an arm, a foot, a hand or one or two fingers. At all events, we pride ourselves in going through the world and finding a thrill in life without the full equipment of limbs which normal people seem to find necessary.
The essential purpose of our gatherings is social, with good-fellowship and the exchange of experiences which result from our physical condition, That, indeed, is how the club came into being from the casual first time meeting at the same table in an Oxford Street teashop some ten years ago.
Having lost my right arm at the shoulder, I was struggling to butter a roll on the slippery plate, when the man opposite to me offered his aid, explaining, in apology, that he knew something of such awkward moments from the fact that he had lost a leg, and now relied on an aluminium one.
Our talk naturally lead to an exchange of experiences in our limbless circumstances. Among other things, I learnt how a one-handed friend of his trimmed and manicured his finger-nails, while I, in turn, explained some dodges of legless and single-armed friends of mine.
Minus One Limb Or Three Fingers.
Good luck lead to our meeting again several times, and ultimately to our agreement that people in our condition could do much to interest and ease the lot of each other by swapping individual experiences. A more or less informal, cheery social meeting of limbless people we knew followed, first at his flat then at mine.
At first we mustered only half-a-dozen or so by invitation at the house or diggings of one or another. These parties, with our experiments in all sorts of situations arising from the absence of a limb, became regular events and greatly enjoyed, while at the same time A learnt some dodge to relieve his difficulties from B, and so on.
As numbers grew, the strain on our private hospitality became too great, so we definitely formed the club into which we had gradually developed. It is unnecessary to describe the constitution which follows the usual lines, with the outstanding distinction that membership is open only to those who have lost one or more limbs (with three finger one hand as the minimum).
Candidates for election must also attend three consecutive weekly meetings of the club, so that their full qualification shall be proved to and recognised by the members at large. Through these personal contacts we ensure also that the newcomer (in addition to the ordinary proposal and seconding by members) will be socially and individually acceptable to the club as a whole.
For the acquaintanceships and sociability between our members is necessary more personal than in clubs devoted to such purposes as postage-stamps, dancing, bridge, music, tame-mice, etc, etc In the beginning our membership consisted practically entirely of ex-Service men who had suffered an amputation as the result of wounds during the war. These still form a large proportion, but with a steadily increasing number of people who have lost a limb or limbs through motoring or other accidents.
Admitting Eve.
In our club such victims of latter-day so-called peaceful transport find cheery company and helpful comradeship. We ex-Service men learnt many dodges from each other and about artificial limbs before we left the military hospitals and convalescent homes. Today the civilian who undergoes an amputation has no or few fellow-sufferers whose experience lightens the ordeal of re-entering the world with only one arm or leg.
In that respect we could claim that our club (despite its restriction of membership to personal introduction) fulfils a definite need, though our essential objective is social enjoyment and comradeship. To realise that every other member has also lost a limb gives — paradoxically enough — a rare warmth of understanding.
It was that during the last few years has led us to admit women to membership. Long and serious consideration followed the proposal by a greatly esteemed member of his 20-year old daughter after the loss of her leg under a motor-bus. Almost simultaneously there was application from an ex-hospital nurse whose right arm had to be amputated to check septic poisoning, contracted in tending a patient.
Ultimately it was decided to accept both for membership, and since then women have been eligible under the same conditions as men. The step has never been regretted, for to have only one arm or leg is so much heavier to a woman than a man that she seems to appreciate the more the society of others like herself, instead of being noted by men and women as the "one— legged girl".
What Only Members See.
In the main our club life is that of any other social gathering, with occasions supremely unique. You, as a normal bodied person might stare if you could secretly enter and see that middle-aged fourth at a bridge table holding and playing his cards with his feet. A close glimpse would show that his toeless socks allow him to use his toes as deftly as you do your fingers.
In the music room a man and a girl with one arm each manage a solo (not a duet) between them at the piano. Then the girl on her own tackles the instrument with her one hand and the five toes of her other foot. Two hefty young single-handed men are betting which will pick up a needle quickest from the floor with a bare foot.
In the consulting room old members are giving tips about using a wooden arm, and the best type of metal leg. The big deeply carpeted room which centralises the life of the club is, in turn, place for a waltz (note those two with only a leg each and crutches discarded), a hopping match for monopedes, and wrestling between one-armed and one-legged opponents.
Here for time, though in sun-bathing costume, we forget the mutilation which we should feel if pranking among curious-eyed two-legged, two-armed folk. No such can enter here.
We members go home with leg or arm strapped on again, almost normal in the world's eye and happy after our jolly comradeship together. A touch of admiration, too, for that dark-haired young girl swinging along so nimbly on her shapely one leg and stiff pole of a crutch. Yet what grace and strength an the bars and rings in the gym she displayed half an hour ago!


London Life X-mas annual 1933 p. 75
Limbless Beauty And How It May Be Faked
Dear Sir, — I now send the next article in the series, which I hope I shall be lucky enough to see in the November special issue. This, I take it, will be the Christmas number. I had hoped to have written, with your permission, of course, a special story for this issue, but I am afraid I could not get it finished in time, so I trust the article I now send will serve.
I wonder if you would permit me to make a special plea in connection with the article I enclose. In it "Marcel" describes, among other things, how Lulu, the girl featured in the article, managed to give the impression that she was armless by the use of a specially designed corset. I want to assure you that it was a perfectly feasible business, and was actually worked with complete success for nearly twenty years by a well-known side-show exhibit.
There died in America about ten years ago a woman named Rose Wasilesky, who had appeared all over the States as an "Armless Wonder". She had retired from the show world about ten or fifteen years earlier. Actually she had a perfect pair of arms; and each day, before going on show, she was laced into a specially made corset very much in the way described by "Marcel" in the present article. The illusion of armlessness was so perfect that nobody outside the world of the shows ever suspected that she had arms.
Her imposture arouse in a curious way. She was born in the show business, her father being a manager of freak shows. Among his exhibits was a genuine armless girl for whom Rose, as a child, formed a very strong attachment, and with whom she travelled for many years. The armless girl taught Rose to use her toes; and Rose, proving a very apt pupil, became almost as expert as the girl herself.
Some years later, after the death of her father, Rose was thrown upon her own resources and, looking round for a means of livelihood, suddenly thought of the brilliant idea of herself giving an "armless wonder" show.
A showman, expert in the game of fooling the public, devised the special corset she wore beneath her fancy show costumes, and from that time she appeared successfully as an armless wonder, doing all the recognised tricks with her legs and toes so cleverly that no spectator could possibly have suspected that she was not genuinely armless.
This case is quite authentic, and I have heard rumours of others. Lon Chaney, the late film star, also wore a specially built corset when he appeared as the armless wonder of travelling shows in one of his films. His appearance was absolutely natural, and he did not look particularly bulky about the body either.
I hope therefore that Lulu's version of the trick may be allowed to remain as an example of an odd and very out of the ordinary "stunt" founded on actual fact. Perhaps, too, Miss Stanton might choose one of her illustrations from this part.
I was glad to see, besides my own, two other letters dealing with limbless beauty in the September issue.
"Ruth", the writer of the first, I noted with interest, wrote from South Africa, showing how far afield "London Life" circulates, and how widespread is the interest in this particular topic. Besides the many letters you have had from readers in England, you have received communications on the subject from America, India, Australia, Ceylon and South Africa.
I was particularly interest in the informative and well-written letter signed "Barnum Junior". I never saw the "Limbless Lord" he mentions, though "Randion", the Indian armless and legless man, who has been a prominent side-show exhibit in America for many years, and whom "Barnum Junior" is sure to know, is an example of a similar anomaly. He, too, is just a trunk, and can do miraculous things with his lips and teeth.
I have, however, the pleasantest memories of the lady he calls "La Renйe de Vallйe". I saw her in England only a few months before the war, when she was billed "Mlle Vallйe, the Parisian Armless Beauty".
She was, as your correspondent says, really a Belgian, being a native of Ghent. She was indeed a beautiful girl, then about twenty, very dark and distinguished looking, with, I thought, a rather sad expression, though she could be very vivacious when in the mood.
Completely armless from the shoulders though she was, she had a most perfect figure, with the most beautifully modelled shoulders I have ever seen on an armless girl. It really would have been an insult to call her armlessness a deformity.
Certainly, familiar limbs were missing, but there was nothing in the least displeasing about the bereft shoulders — very much the most opposite, in fact. And not even the most normally minded individual could have been blind to the shapely perfection, of the twin, rounded shoulder ends, and denied their obvious beauty.
Her legs, too, were slender and shapely; and her feet, with their long, amazingly supple and prehensile and, of course, beautifully kept toes, were also slim and dainty.
A photograph I had of Mlle Vallйe, showing her in the short velvet knickers, she wore while on show, holding a cup of tea near her lips with her toes, while she smiled delightfully out of the picture, was lost, along with many others of a similar type, during the war.
But you may recall a photograph of her playing the piano with her toes, was published in your paper a few years ago, illustrating, along with other photographs of other limbless celebrities, an article by one of your contributors (not myself) on limbless show-people. If you still possess the photograph, its reproduction might be of interest to readers.
I hope that "Barnum Junior" will write again as I have no doubt he has by no means exhausted his store of information about the many limbless wonders he has met.
Again offering you my most grateful thanks and my best wishes for the continued success of the paper,
Yours sincerely,
Wallace Stort



Post Reply

Who is online

Users browsing this forum: No registered users and 4 guests