When it comes to dating, we often think of Tinder, Grindr, Hinge… the list goes on. But how did people meet each other before we could swipe right? Surprisingly, the history of the personal advert is thought to go back to the 1700s, but one of the earliest examples from Nottingham was a monthly magazine called The Link. CJ De Barra delves into its history and the repercussions of its ‘improper’ use…
The Link was a monthly magazine that ran from 1915 to 1921. It was created by Alfred Walter Barrett, a journalist from London. Barrett had the idea for a ‘lonely hearts’ magazine after identifying a loneliness crisis during the First World War.
Life during the war was an isolated one – both on and off the battlefield. Many families lost loved ones, and Nottingham was no exception to this. The Nottinghamshire Great War Roll of Honour lists the names of almost 14,000 local men, women and children who lost their lives in conflict. A grim atmosphere was created by the daily news of terrifying battles, death and wounded soldiers, as well as food rationing introduced in 1918.
Alfred’s magazine was a way for people to meet each other, gain advice on dating, or even just find a pen pal. At its height, the publication had 20-30,000 advertisers, including many from Nottingham. One advert in February 1921 read: “Grass Widower (Notts), 40 feels 30, decent position, good education, sometimes travelling, seeks society of member of gentler sex, unconventional and of some charm. Photos returnable.”
The link also offered advice under the heading: ‘Love Troubles Considered’. These were often heavily coded. It’s not known what this was in response to, but a July 1915 edition offered the following advice: “Notts. - the cabbage roses are ambassadors of love, the Gloire de Dijon are ‘messengers of love,’ moss-rose buds are a confession of undying devotion and mariden blish roses signify ‘If you love me you will find it out.’ Now you have ‘found it out,’ I hope your wooing will be ‘roses all the way.’”
Another in September 1917 references the Rudyard Kipling poem Ubique, which means ‘everywhere’. It read: “Rolling Stone (Notts..), 41, ‘neither East nor West,’ but Ubique, ‘Ubique’ according to Kipling definition, requests ‘moving fingers’ to ‘write half a line’ or more, as inclined to beguile dull hours in isolated spot in North. Genuine replies answered.”
Often, the coded language within The Link used phrases such as ‘bohemian’, ‘unconventional’ or alluded to things that were literary, artistic or musical, as a way of signifying sexuality
What is notable about The Link is that many of the letters used secret language, particularly those that hint at LGBTQ+ people. Homosexuality was still criminalised, so there was much to be lost by writing letters, not least because it could be used in evidence against you.
When a letter from an editor of another newspaper was sent to the Metropolitan Police expressing concern, the police were left with no choice. In particular, the section, “devoted to the male sex, where the advertisers seem to be running up against the criminal law,” caused the most offence. Three men were charged with corrupting public morals: Alfred Walter Barrett as editor, Geoffrey Bevis Ingman Smith, Walter Earnest Hunter Smyth and Walter Stuart Birks.
In court, the men denied the charges or knowing that the paper could be used in such a way, but Barrett admitted that he could have done better in screening the adverts. Judge Darling used an example of an advert written by Major Fitzgerald-Lombard, who wished to meet twelve men and sent photographs of himself dressed as a woman. He described himself as “literary, artistic and musical.”
Often, the coded language within The Link used phrases such as ‘bohemian’, ‘unconventional’ or alluded to things that were literary, artistic or musical, as a way of signifying sexuality. In response, Barrett said he thought Fitzgerald was “mixed up with theatricals.” Darling ordered someone to look into Fitzgerald.
Alfred was joined at the trial by Walter Stuart Birks. Birks was not part of the team behind The Link, but police found a copy of it in his room during a search in an unrelated fraud case. It’s possible that the police hoped his appearance in court would show the ‘types’ that advertised in The Link, thus strengthening their case.
The reason for this is that, while Birks was awaiting sentencing for being drunk, disorderly, and deliberately urinating in Lincoln Cathedral, he had fled and relocated to Nottingham. He had taken a job at the Nottingham County Lunatic Asylum, in Radcliffe on Trent, in 1917, but was caught in a compromising situation with an inmate, Roy Douglas Haynes. Haynes was horrifically described as an ‘imbecile’ due to his epilepsy.
At Bingham Petty Sessions, Birks pleaded for leniency as he had a wife in Sheffield and two sons in France, but to no avail; he was given twelve months for indecent assault. Following his release, he went to the Isle of Man, where he began an affair with a man from Nottingham, and they exchanged letters.
“We not only shared the same room, my flower, but the same bed. [...] And in bed darling, how you ‘kissed’ me and placed your strong arms round me – my naked body; and your naked body.... Then we kissed and exchanged ‘love-drops’. Oh! heaven!! It was indeed ‘the goods’.... it was ‘America’”
Eventually, Birks settled in Carlisle, where he was living when The Link trial began. He responded to two adverts in the paper, one of which was to a man living in Belfast who was seeking ‘sincere friend, own sex and any age to 35.’ Police reported finding pencil crosses next to the adverts he had answered. Birks was adamant he had never advertised in The Link but had been arrested because the police had found a pamphlet he had written in which he stated he was not scared of God, or Lucifer, and that religion was barbaric.
The men were all found guilty and sentenced to two years’ hard labour at Wormwood Scrubs. “There can be no graver attack on the morals of this country than to establish a paper as you did for the purpose of allowing men and women to commit immorality,” the judge said sternly.
In later years, Birks returned to Nottingham, taking lodgings at Gill Street, which today is near Trent University. However, he was later sent to Bagthorpe Workhouse on Hucknall Road, where he died in 1938.
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