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CODyright, lSU.i, by tin* Star < 'omnunv. Flrlfain RiirhtH T^AftArvAft.
The True Story of Lucy
Dodge’s Life-Long Battle
Against the Wealth and
Luxury Unkind Fortune
Showered Upon Her, and
How Her Last Runaway
Made Her a Winner
T HE reports published broadcast throughout this country of the dis
appearance of Lucy Dodge, daughter of Mrs. Lionel Guest, of Lon
don, gave no inkling of her reasons for running away. At the end
of five days her stepfather announced her safe return, and the incident
ostensibly closed. But the reasons back of this episode in the life of this
beautiful young heiress are so remarkable that one of her friends, a young
English women of title, has written for this newspaper the true story of
why this pampered heiress, whose social position is of the highest and
whose closest friends are members of the English royal family, gave
everything up in order to earn her own living. The writer's one condition
was that her name be withheld.
London, April 22.
W HEN Miss? Lucy Dodge, the grand
daughter of the late John Bige
low, ran away from her beautiful
London home the other day, she by no
means provided her family with the new
and novel sensation which the general
public in America and England sup
posed. Miss Dodge, you see, has run away
before, not once, but several time's. Osten
sibly she runs away.to bring her family,
which consists of a devoted mother and
stepfather, to terms. Those who look on
say that the’ formed the habit of running
away in order to get her own way. Her
most recent escapade was, so said her
friends, for the purpose of forcing her
mother to let her go into grand opera. On
the surface this was the reason for the
disappearance, which caused a sensation
not only in this country, but all over Eu
rope.
But back of this runaway and back of
all the others lies a deeper, a more com
pelling reason—the desire to find and to
acquire true democracy. Miss Dodge was
not born into a democratic family. She
was born to aristocracy pure and simple.
The aristocracy of wealth, culture and
family. From her birth she was hedged
about with all the conventions of a highly
conservative family. And as she grew
into young womanhood these conventions
irked her even more than as a child. She
hated wealth and its adjuncts, social po
sition and snobbery.
When Miss Dodge began her running
away she was a mite of a girl living in her
grandfather's stately old home in Gram-
ercy square. This was at that time such
an exclusive little section of Ne'w \ ork
that no business of any kind, not even an
apartment house, was allowed within its
borders. This beautiful park, worth many
millions, was tlm exclusive playground
for the lucky little millionaire children
whose fathers lived within the charmed
quarters.
And Lucy was one of these fortunate
children. Her mother was the daughter
of John Bigelow, one time Ambassador to
France, and one of our foremost diplomats
and statesmen. After a sensational girl
hood spent in France and England, where
she was on the most friendly terms with
the royai families, Lucy’s mother married
Charles Stuart Dodge and came back to
New York to live. Here Lucy was born,
and here, in 1903, the Dodges were di
vorced.. Shortly afterward Mrs. Dodge
(married a handsome young Englishman,
I ionel Guest, brother of Lord Ashby St.
Legers, British Paymaster-General. One
of Lucy’s aunts married a brother of Mrs.
.T. Pierpont Morgan. Thus from her birth
the good fairies showered Lucy with their
benefits, and the word democracy was un
known in the vocabulary of the whole
family.
But Lticy was not satisfied to play with
the carefully selected, well washed and
perfectly antiseptic children who were her
neighbors. She was always trying to
smuggle into the park some of the dirty
but highly interesting children who lived
over beyond Third avenue. Scoldings had
no effect. She would point to the children
and say, “Why can’t 1 play with them?
They are just like the rest of us under
the dirt.”
While Lucy was sure of this, her gov
ernesses and parents were sure of the
contrary, and a strict watch was kept on
the pretty child to protect her from the
results of her democratic tendencies.
But at the age of ten, when she was
voted the belle of the park and when she
had more partners than she could manage
at the children’s parties she attended,
Lucy decided that all was not right with
her world. If she could not find democ
racy by staying in her beautiful home or
in playing with the other little millionaire
children, she would go in search of it and
right then, and there her pilgrimage in
search of democracy began.
One afternoon there "’as a great com
motion in the Bigelow-Dodge family. Lucy
had disappeared! She was not in the
antiseptic park, she was nowhere in
the millionaire district; where could she
p>M»To a, t-fAUCEAU
Miss Lucy Dodge, the American Heiress Who Has Revolted So Often
Against an Aristocratic Life of Luxury and Ease and Who Has at
Last Won Her Fight to Be Truly Democratic.
be? Her mother recalled that in
the morning Lucy had brought three
very dirty ami unsanitary-looking
children into the library and insisted
on playing with them. She wanted
to take them up to her nursery and
show them how to play with her
dolls. She said to her mother:
“These children have no dolls at
all and I have twelve beautiful ones.
It does not seem right for me to
have so man. . Why can’t I give
them some of mine?”
When the children were sent
away, Lucy wept and wailed, but
nothing more was thought* of it un
til it was time for her to go to danc
ing school with the other little aris
tocrats of the neighborhood. Then
she could not be found. There was
a frantic search all over the dis
trict, still no Lucy. Late in the
evening, when it was thought that
a general alarm would have to be
sent out. Uncle Tracy came in hold
ing a very dirty but very happy’-'
Lucy by the hand.
“I found her over on Second ave
nue having the time of her life,”
said the immaculate banker-million
aire. “She would not come home un
til I promised her that she should
have her little friends come to play
with her here to-morrow.”
Thus it was very early in her
first pilgrimage for democracy that
Lucy found one way to get her own
way. From that time until she was
sent away to the Bigelow estate up
the Hudson, there wore always half
a dozen small ragamuffins in and
about tile Bigelow mansion. Lucy
shared everything she had with them;
her family was apparently helpless.
Of course, all this time Lucy was
too young to realize that she was
searching for true democracy. She
just know that she wanted to be
like the poor children who played
with her.
When she was twelve years of age
she discovered that she had a voice.
Her family discovered it at the same
time, and from that moment large
sums of money have been spent on
her training. When she started tak
ing lessons she insited that one
of her former playmates from Sec
ond avenue should take lessons also. This
request was refused. The next day Lucy
was missing again. Another frantic search,
this time in the district beyond the park,
and she was found. But again she refused
to come home without making a bargain.
In a vacant lot near Eighteenth street and
First avenue Lucy was found with half a
dozen little boys and girls lined up in
front of her. and she, as singing teacher,
was putting them through the exercises
that she had been taught.
"I’ll come home if I can have my own
way. I want Molly to take the same les
sons that I do.”
And, of course, the family said, “Yes,
only come home without any struggle.”
And now, at the age of fifteen, we find
Lucy finishing her studies in New York
with Molly and being gotten ready to go
to Paris. She wanted Molly to go to Paris
with her. But for once she could not get
her own way, for once her pilgrimage for
true democracy met an obstacle, and this
time it was not the aristocratic Dodges
and Bigelows who objected, but Molly’s
family. Molly had to be left at home.
In Paris Lucy made her friend? among
the poorer students and was always shar
ing everything she had with them. She
would take them home to luncheon on the
days that her mother was entertaining
royalty, and her only reply to her mother’s
tears was: “Surely they are as good as
we are. Surely they are as good as your
guests. In fact, I think they are better,
for they all work for their living or intend
to when they are able to.”
But it was not until she was nineteen,
as pretty as a picture and a debutante,
that Lucy found it necessary to run away
again. This time she ran away from New
port and half a dozen wealthy would-be
husbands that her mother had lined up be
fore her to choose from.
Mrs. Dodge, or Mrs. Guest, as she now
was, had many friends in London before
her second marriage, and her marriage
added materially to this number. When
Lucy made her debut, therefore, she was
entertained in the most exclusive set in
London. She dined with the King and
Queen, and perhaps no other American
girl ever received more distinguished at
tentions than this democratic daughter of
the aristocratic Dodge-Bigelow family. But
"even in the midst of her triumphs Lucy
pondered over the differences between
herself and the people of the “other half.”
“Why are we not-all born equal?” she
asked. “Why does one part of the people
of England, for instance, bow and scrape
to the other part? And the part that
scrapes is so much larger than the part
that is scraped to?”
While Lucy was dining with the dukes
and duchesses, the lords and ladies, her
pretty head was filled with such thoughts,
and her mother was filled with anxiety.
“Lucy will never marry, I fear; she has
such queer ideas,” Mrs. Guest wrote her
sisters in New York.
“Send her to Newport,” they replied.
“One season there will work wonders.”
And so to Newport came Mrs. Guest and
her delightfully pretty daughter. Of
course, Miss Dodge was a favorite from
the beginning, and the same old round of
dinners and dances started all over again.
And the same old line of suitors bobbed
up in front of her. Only this time they
were princes of finance rather than princes
of the blood, millionaires rather than
dukes and lords. But the same lack of
unity between the many grades of people
was just as apparent, and Lucy realized
that she could never settle down and be
happy with any one of these aristocrats
of wealth.
But Mrs. Guest and her aunts and
cousins were at her back all the time
urging her to marry, and to marry as much
wealth as she could. They refused to let
her alone, and, lo! one morning Lucy dis
appeared again. Away from would-be hus
bands with their millions she t;an, and re
fused to return .until her mother promised
that she should marry when and whom she
chose.
Then Lucy returned to Newport and
sang gloriously and continuously whenever
her mother asked her to. But always there
was a yearning to live independently of
“And off went Miss Lucy this last
time, carried away literally by a
musical note and waving a glad
good bye to all those dukes, earls,
princesses and things. This time
she had won her fight to work.”
her family, and her desire increased as
shn heard of the things some of her for
mer friends were doing. They looked upon
her as an idler.
When she went back to London she con
tinued her music, and by this time she
was very well known among the members
of the musical world, professional and
otherwise. She had many offers to enter
the operatic world, and wept when she
had to refuse them. But during the last
two years these constant offers have in
fluenced her, and she has seen dimly, per
haps, that her pilgrimage for democracy
will only end when she earns her own liv
ing and becomes an economic factor. The
struggle between herself and her family
has been very bitter. On one side all the
luxuries that wealth can provide, the high
est social position and friendships of
royalty. On the other, work and living
among the “other half.”
A few weeks ago the struggle ended.
Eager to test her theories that only by
earning her own money *:ould she find true
democracy, Miss Lucy ran away for the
last time, and by so doing threw two con
tinents into a fever. Her other runaways
had been childish, innocuous affairs un
known outside her family. This was
flashed from Scotland to Rome, from New
York to San Francisco.
Her family, while excited, were not wor
ried. They knew that Lucy was merely
returning to the ways of her childhood, ex
pectant that when they were ready to give
in they would say, "Come home, we will
be good.”
But the publicity frightened her, and
she sent them word where she was, add
ing: "Now that you know I am safe, I will
stay here and take up my operatic plans.”
Post haste went her stepfather to her*
and begged her to return. "Yes, if I may
go on with my career, if I may earn my
own living and pay for things out of money
I have earned, not out of money other
people have earned for me.”
And, as of old, this method of pursuing
democracy won. Her mother said yes, her
uncles and aunts said yes, and next Win
ter Miss Lucy will be a truly wage earner.
Her pilgrimage is ended.
Blunders in Our Bodies That Show Nature a Bungler
I N making men, nature did her work very poorly, ac
cording to a remarkable arraignment made by Dr.
Augustus Maverick, of San Antonio, Texas. Our
bodies are full of examples, he declares, of how nature
through carelessness.brings destruction and death to its
progeny.
In this indictment, the doctor starts at the top and
works down. The teeth in man, he points out; are by
no means naturally perfect. Digestive disorders are
often encouraged by this fact. As natural mischief-
makers of the mouth, the wisdom teeth play the leading
role.
“These are useless additions to the mouth,” he says,
“and in ^pite of their size they are never great chewers;
on the other hand the pain they cause in making their
debut and the trouble they so often produce, including
abscess, diffuse supppration, necrosis of the jawbone,
and even cancer, is common knowledge to us all. About
seventeen persons out of one hundred in our race cheat
the dentist by not cutting their upper wisdom teeth;
they may well consider themselves lucky.”
The doctor then proceeds to criticise the tonsils,
which, he says, stand up like little tombstones. “The
simile, he adds, is a good one since the tonsils and the
grave are closely related.
"Evidently placed by nature as sentries to guard the
throat from the invasion of bacteria taken in the food,
they have not only failed in their duty, but they have
apparently in many people become centres of attraction
for all stray germs. It is only necessary to mention
the frequency of tonsilitis and the relation between
tonsilitis and diseases such as rheumatism, appendicitis,
sepsis, scarlet fever, diphtheria and nephritis.
“Very similar to the tonsils are the adenoids so com
inon in younger life. Here we have a natural growth
of tissue, of little or no use, which on one hand plugs
the breathing space and causes general ill health and
deformity of the chest, and on the other hand predis
poses the nose and throat to recurring catarrhal affec
tions, including inflammation of the inner ear and
deafness.”
Strangely enough, the doctor has a kind word to
say for the appendix, although he prefaces it with some
hard knocks. Ij: isn’t as bad as it might be.
Referring to this appendage as “an antique of the
salad age which is of use to no one unless the ab
dominal surgebn,” he declares that “we certainly have
no thanks to give nature for this miniature gut which,
because of its low vitality and ease of strangulation, has
become the target for all abdominal infections. The
frequency of appendicitis is one of the bywords of our
times.”
But the doctor points out that about one out of
every four persons has an appendix the canal of which
is partially or wholly occluded, making the possibility
of appendicitis less frequent or preventing it altogether.
In taking up the nervous system, the doctor “shows
up” nature in finished style.
* “The nerves which branch throughout the body," he
says, “are often compared with telegraph wires, since
they both carry messages to and fro. In making this
comparison, however, it is well to remember that the
wires made by man carry their messages much faster
than the nerves made by nature, and that while a
single telegraph wire will carry several messages at
once, the nerve trunk must have a separate fiber for
each.
"Telegraph wires do not lie as often as nerves do.
Thus it is not rare to see a child with beginning pneu
monia or pleurisy who has severe pain far down In
the abdomen instead of over the chest, sometimes caus
ing the surgeon to operate for appendicitis. A one-
legged unfortunate will often experience pain in his
amputated limb for months or years after he and his
leg have parted.”
The doctor points in great detail, too, how ineffi
ciently nature designed the nervous system, certain
nerves being very poorly arranged.
While we value our sight next to our life, nature has
left much to be desired in supplying us with proper
organs. “We do not expect our eyes to see as far as
a telescope, as minutely as a microscope, or as quickly
as a Camera," the doctor says, “but we do demand that
our eyes be perfect in structure, and this they are not.
The natural errors of the eyeball have caused endless
gossip among eye men for years, and given many
physicists a chance to rap. at nature as an optician.”
The doctor specifies many of the faults possessed by
our eyes, and which he says are a great handicap to
our sight, and if we did not have two eyes instead of
one and were not constantly changing our glance, we
would not be able to get along as w ell as we do.