When Words Are Like Weapons

By Laraine Stephens

Poison-pen [adjective] 
“Composed or sent maliciously, as a letter, usually anonymously and for the purpose of damaging another's reputation or happiness.”
[Dictionary.com] First used 1910-1915.
 
Haven’t we all, at some stage, wanted to put pen to paper and tell someone what we really think of them? And wouldn’t it be good if we could avoid being identified so that there would be no recrimination?

Perhaps. Perhaps not. Most of us get over our anger/resentment/hurt/jealousy and move on, but there are some who do not. They want to inflict pain or stir things up. They enjoy the thought of creating chaos; disseminating gossip; disconcerting their chosen victim; putting the cat among the pigeons. And how better than by cutting out letters from a newspaper, sticking them onto a sheet of paper, and sending an anonymous message to their target?

When I was writing my most recent novel, The White Feather Murders, I researched poison-pen letters, particularly those from the early years of the twentieth century. I was curious as to their prevalence, the effects that they had on communities, and the motivation of the writers.

In the process, I discovered that it was possible to make some generalisations about those who wrote them. In most cases, the author was usually anonymous and female. Why the latter? Did society at that time make women feel weak, trapped and powerless, so that the only way they could vent their frustrations was through the medium of anonymous letters?

The language used in these communications was not restrained by the conventions of everyday, normal life. It was often crude or malicious. And the motivation behind the person who wrote a poison-pen letter was often difficult to discern. Was it jealousy, resentment, revenge for a perceived slight, or a desire to inflict pain on the recipient? We can only speculate. Certainly, it is clear that the author was obsessed with their victim.

Enough theory. Let’s cut to the chase. What about looking into some of the fascinating and famous cases from the early twentieth century which made headlines, scandalised communities and ruined lives?

Mrs Pollard and her ‘Serpent Typewriter’

What happens when the authorities find it hard to believe that a fine, upstanding member of society is really the author of malicious and spiteful letters?
In 1909, hostilities were unleashed on the citizens of Elizabeth, a suburb near New York City, when accusations of scandalous behaviour were received in anonymous letters typed on a Remington typewriter. Imagine being the woman who was branded as a prostitute and bombarded with literature on obesity, insanity, alcoholism and drug addiction?

The ‘Poison Pen’ in this case was Mrs Anna Pollard, president of the Elizabeth Ladies’ Aid Society, a member of the congregation of the Christ Episcopal Church and a ‘Daughter of the American Revolution’. Despite overwhelming evidence at her trial, she was found not guilty. After her acquittal, the letters began again, but this time, Mrs Pollard confessed and was fined. Social humiliation was her true punishment rather than incarceration or paying a fine.

The Littlehampton Libels

One of the most famous cases is from the town of Littlehampton, on the south coast of England, which is depicted in the film Wicked Little Letters. The anonymous letter writer, in the period between 1920 and 1923, accused its residents of all manner of disgusting and disreputable behaviour. Reputations were ruined, suspicion abounded, and relationships crumbled. The actual case saw a miscarriage of justice when an innocent woman was incarcerated, while the real culprit escaped conviction until she was finally exposed as the poison-pen writer.

The ‘Unknown Hand’

During the same period, an influx of nasty, anonymous messages were dropped into the letter boxes of Sheringham residents in Norfolk, England. They were written by the ‘Unknown Hand’.

A former Girl Guide leader, Miss Dorothy Thurburn, was charged with 24 counts of sending defamatory letters to some of Sheringham’s most highly respected residents, including claims that the recipients had committed extra-marital affairs and fathered illegitimate children. More bizarre accusations attacked people for ‘walking like a duck’, having ‘yellow-dyed hair’ or having ‘odd hips and twitching eyes’.

Three court cases acquitted Miss Thurburn. Interestingly, in her second trial, she was represented by Sir Edward Marshall Hall, who had been briefed to defend the infamous serial killer, Dr Crippen, and represented the ‘Brides in the Bath’ murderer, George Joseph Smith.

‘Tiger Eye’

Tulle, France was the scene of another Poison Pen infestation.

The [Sydney] Sun April 30, 1922, bore the headlines:

“TERRIBLE TIGER EYE
Strange Tale of Tulle
POISON-LETTERS STAMPEDE TOWN”

Anonymous letters of the most diabolical description were received by prominent townspeople from about 1917, with the author of the poisonous communications growing in audaciousness and daring. The letters, left in mailboxes and churches, on doorsteps and on windowsills, were signed ‘Tiger Eye’. Several suicides and relationship breakdowns were the result, and it was said that two men went mad due to the anxiety of being exposed.

‘Tiger-Eye’ mocked the justice system by claiming that no one would be able to identify their fingerprints because they wore gloves when they wrote. A hypnotist was even called in to expose the perpetrator, but to no avail. Dramatically and sadly, Angele Laval, the prime suspect, attempted suicide, even though the judge believed her to be innocent. Despite this, Miss Laval was incarcerated.

Poison-Pen Letters with a Twist

Poison-pen letters have been inspiration for novelists and film-makers alike. In my latest novel, The White Feather Murders, set in Melbourne, Australia in 1927, the ‘Poison Pen’ is an anonymous newspaper columnist who embarks on a crusade against a disparate group of Melbourne’s citizens: the president of the Melbourne Woman’s Christian Temperance Union, a nurse, a politician, a doctor and a priest. But here’s the twist! After each column is published, the subject dies ‘accidentally’. And each is found clutching a white feather. It is up to Reggie da Costa, senior crime reporter for The Argus newspaper, to find the link between the victims and their accuser, and the reason why they have been targeted. Of critical importance is the significance of the white feather.

Poison-pen letters create anxiety and suspicion. They bring about breakdowns in relationships and drive people to suicide. For the recipients, they pose the questions: Who is privy to my secrets? Who is ridiculing me? Who is fabricating these lies about me? And, most importantly, why?

As that famous philosopher and singer, Cher, once sang:
“Words are like weapons; they wound sometimes.”
 
Laraine Stephens
 
Laraine Stephens lives in Beaumaris, a suburb of Melbourne, Australia. She worked as a teacher-librarian and Head of Library for over 35 years. After retiring at the end of 2013, she became a writer of historical crime fiction. Apart from writing, she is an avid golfer, loves travelling, going to the football and playing Mahjong, and enjoys reading, restaurants and films. For five years she worked as a volunteer guide at the Old Melbourne Gaol.
 
She is a member of Writers Victoria, Sisters in Crime (Australia), the Australian Crime Writers’ Association, the Historical Novel Society of Australasia, the International Thriller Writers and the Crime Writers’ Association of the United Kingdom.
Laraine has a six-book contract with Level Best Books (USA).