Dear Sir, - I have been a reader of "London Life" for some time and hope you can publish my letter in your columns.
I am a West Indian girl, having been born in Jamaica, where my father was a native Government official. I was sent to this country when I was in my early 'teens to finish my education after an elementary period at an English school on the island.
After leaving school I went to Paris to study singing, which I intended to take up as a career. I remained there five years, but unfortunately, just before my term expired, I lost both my parents. I returned to this country, having decided to remain here, as my parents had left me an income sufficient to live on, and I had no relatives left at all. I found a nice little flat and advertised for a coloured girl as maid, as I did not think that an English girl would care to be employed by a black girl. I was successful in obtaining a maid very quickly, and I soon got settled down.
I soon obtained an engagement to sing at a well-known night club, where I became very popular. I was then twenty-two years old. It was whilst being driven one night from the club, by a very charming English girl, who was also engaged at the club that we met with rather a nasty accident. She fortunately escaped unhurt, but my right leg was very badly smashed, so that it was necessary to amputate it at once. My leg was taken off above the knee, leaving me with a short stump exactly eight inches in length. I, however, made a good and quick recovery from the amputation of my leg, and after a few days the doctor told me, with a laugh, that mine was the first black leg he had ever amputated. I, of course, felt ever so funny and strange when I was allowed to get up and had to realise that I now only had one leg to stand on. I am afraid I acted strangely, as I kept endeavouring to put to the ground my lost limb which, needless for me to say, was an absolute physical impossibility.
I was later measured for a pair of crutches and the nurse adjusted them under my somewhat fleshy armpits. Then I commenced to hop on my one leg with their support. In due course I was allowed to go home, and under the guidance of my maid, I started to use a single crutch, and within a few months of becoming one-legged I was able to hop on and off buses and up and down stairs, just as though I had been a cripple always. I found that my one-legged figure came in for quite a lot of attention from people, which I suppose was because I am black. At any rate I have never met a black one yet.
I am now thirty-two years of age, and have hopped on my crutch now for ten years. I have also developed a very full figure since I commenced my singing career, more especially since I became one-legged. You will realise this when I tell you that my bust measurement is fifty-four inches, and I weigh fourteen stone and that with just one leg! I naturally did not expect when I became one-legged that I should get any further engagements, but one evening when I hopped into the club, everyone shouted a wonderful greeting to me, and all were most sympathetic. They all raised their glasses and gave a toast: "Here's to one-legged Jos‚ " As I realised that my condition seemed to make me more popular than ever, I approached the manages and asked him if could give me an engagement. The outcome of this was that I fixed up a contract as crooner to the club's orchestra. For several years I used to hop for several times a night to the "mike" and croon through it to the diners and dancers. I should not be surprised if some of your readers have heard me on numerous occasions. One night when I had finished my last call, the manager brought a very charming Englishman up to me and said: "Jos‚ , this gentleman is very desirous of making your acquaintance." "It is very kind indeed of you," I said, when introduced, "to desire to think about one-legged me," showing my white teeth between my red lips as I laughed.
He asked me to dine with him, and after an excellent dinner he drove me home. We quickly became good friends, in spite of our difference in colour. He is a very wealthy man, about fifteen years my senior, and after taking me about for some time (he arranged my release from my crooning engagement), we got married. I have been married over four years, and they have been simply wonderful years, too!
Like several of your one-legged girl readers, I also wear a circlet, but mine is a platinum one, with a lovely jewelled clasp in the form of a pair of crutches, which my hubby bought for me when we were in Paris on our honeymoon. It gleams most beautifully against my black skin.
I have met some very charming white people, and I am glad to say that I have never noticed the slightest difference in their cordiality to me; in fact, I sometimes wonder whether my unusual one-legged appearance does not appeal to them. I have no regrets at marrying a white man, and I know that my hubby has none at marrying a one-legged black wife.
I sincerely hope that my colour will not stop you from publishing my letter, as I have been asked by several of my English friends who read "London Life" to write to you. Wishing "London Life" the success it so richly deserves.
Yours truly,
One-Legged Crooner.