THE STRUGGLE TO LIVE

Sun (Auckland), Volume 1, Issue 50, 21 May 1927, Page 24 (Supplement)

THE STRUGGLE TO LIVE

I warn all fond parents who think they are acting in the interests of their children by giving them a life of ease and luxury, yet denying them

the equipment necessary to earn a living. A trade or profession for your children is the best insurance policy in the world (writes Muriel Barnby in a London weekly). As a young girl I received an education second to none in the country. My childhood and early teens were spent in an atmosphere of culture, comfort, and coquetry, and never in my wildest dreams did I foresee the time when I should have to earn my living. Then Jihe crash came. My father died, our resources dwindled, and I found myself called upon to face the world with a good social position and a “smile that won’t come off” as my sole assets. The First Step My first venture was as a traveller. A friend had recently started a blouse business, and my job was to canvass the large firms for orders.

I failed to sell a single blouse, and only succeeded in getting the blues. Shall I ever forget the horror, the snubs, and the insults of that period? Mistaking me for a customer, the assistants were affable and polite until I intimated that I had something to sell. Immediately difficulties appeared. After waiting for what seemed hours, I eventually saw the great man, who quickly realised my lack of exerience. A cold rebuff followed, and a scarlet young lady was only too glad to escape. I held the job for exactly three weeks, but it taught me that the untrained have no right to waste the valuable time of business people.

My next job was as assistant wardrobe mistress in an Empire pageant. This was great fun. My duties consisted of interviewing lords and dustmen, peeresses and charwomen, all of whom took part in the show, and discussing with them the costumes they were to wear. One gentleman, a gasfitter by trade and a tragedian by temperament, who was booked to play the part of Sir Walter Raleigh, refused to act when shown his costume. “It’s them tights, miss,” he whispered confidentially. “My old woman would never let me wear them things down the street —too naked like!” This job lasted for several months, and though my remuneration

“LADY LACKLUCRE” AND HER AMAZING ADVENTURES

represented an Aberdeen Flag Day collection, there was plenty of fun to compensate. Society Runabouts

Then I became a society runabout. Ladies would ask me to meet their children at railway stations and conduct them to their homes, which I did at a fee. Distracted uncles would ring me up begging me to take their troublesome nephews to the pantomime, the circus, or even the lethal chamber if I liked, while ladies domiciled in the country sent me lists of purchases to be made on their behalf from the London shops. Another feature of this runabout service was the delivery of visitingcards for lazy aristocrats. The Duchess of Timbuktu would give me a list of friends on whom she desired to leave cards. Then I would have to find their addresses, discover if they were still living there, and then estimate how many cards to leave; this last point called for a certain knowledge of the etiquette of such matters, but the rest was merely

dreary foot-padding from one Mayfair mansion to another. / One autumn when I was in urgent need of a little money I was introduced to a very famous firm of Christmas card manufacturers, who engaged me to fold their cards and affix the ribbons at 2s 6d a thousand. Though it may not sound so, this is a highly skilled job, as the ribbons must be neither too tight nor too loose, and the cards must be folded exactly. I soon became very proficient at card-folding, and ribbontying, yet in three months I was able to earn only £S. Payment in Kind At the age of 33 I went on the stage. This should surely encourage those stage aspirants who imagine that only young people can graduate to the foot, lights. For a time I played many parts under the late George Alexander, Weedon Grossmith, Charles Frohman, and others, and it was in this period that another freak job came my way. A very famous actress had been approached by a reporter who wanted humorous anecdotes of her career She could think of none herself, and, knowing that I had a reputation for saying laughable things, commissioned me to supply her with funny stories. My payment consisted of several enormous boxes of chocolates.

Then one day a famous firm of hat designers asked me to pose for a series of photographs designed fu* Lady Strathmore, the Duchess of York's mother. This brought similar orders from other firms. My fee was always a large one, though sometimes I preferred to accept hats instead of a cheque. To me a beautiful hat is always a credit balance at the Bank of Happiness. As a result of this work I was engaged by the large firm of Pontings to arrange a mannequin parade. It was designed to prove that women whose figures do not conform to the present slim outline can still be smartly dressed. I myself am an

“out size” in women’s clothing, and could talk to possible buyers with sympathy. As a slogan I chose “Pontings,” the Paradise of the Plump.” On three afternoons a week I attended and gave little lectures as the girls paraded past me in gowns and coats. I told the visitors that nothing wav too big to take an interest in, and that there was no need for an “outsizer” to be an outsider. The venture was a great success both for me and the firm concerned. Lady Lacklucre My money-making side-lines have always been legitimate, and therefore I am never ashamed to confess to them. All my friends know my position, and I make no attempt to conceal from them the fact that wh-n I attend smart garden parties, or society at homes and dances, I ride on an omnibus because I can so rarely afford a taxi. A special friend once described me as “the orphan without the ooftish,” and I once received a letter from a waggish acquaintance addressed to “Lady Lacklucre.” These things do not offend me. I laugh instead. There is no shame in earning money as I have done, but it would have been a different story had I accepted the many doubtful offers I have received. A society woman who has little money provides an excellent target for crooks, who look to the foolish section of the upper classes to supply an income. Once a group of wealthy young men who hang on the fringe of London society, and who will assuredly hang somewhere else before thdlr days are over, approached me and offered a large sum for the use of my drawing-room on certain afternoons a week. They insinuated that they wished to be left to themselves, and to be allowed to admit callers. It seemed a strange request, and after making a few tactful inquiries I discovered for what purpose these young cads required my drawing-room. The “callers” would have been young and pretty girls. Need one say more, except that the offer was indignantly refused, and I took pains to tell all my friends of the disreputable intentions of these men. Wjork I Refused

On another occasion a man whom I had met at various people’s houses approached me, saying that he knew I worked for my living, and thought I might be prepared to bring wealthy friends to his new poker club, my remuneration to be a percentage of the club’s winnings from my friends. He was the sort of man who made one feel his sleeves were full of spades—a man for whom *’.se lark sings a lullaby, and who always reads his morning paper before retiring for the night before. I told that astonished gentleman that 1 was neither dark enr | h nor sufficiently seductive in appearance to act the decoy duck. I still meet him in respectable houses, but usually when a night club is raided or some other shady business exposed his name appears among the offenders. These are a few of the temptations which assail the girl or woman who has a social position but little money. But, as I have shown, there is no need for her to fall to them. There are scores of means by which she can earn at Hast a few guineas honestly.