Katrina Sandwina
Sunday, June 4, 1911
St. Louis Post-Dispatch
St. Louis Post-Dispatch
I am not a freak of nature. Instead, I just live the most natural life.’
By Marguerite Martyn
“Gee! Wouldn’t I love to be able to bat a man around like that!”
This sentiment came from a woman behind me as I sat watching the middle ring at the circus one night last week.
The inspiration of that inelegant remark was the act of Frau Sandwina, billed as “The Lady Hercules.”
At that moment she was twirling her husband about in dizzy circles above her head. Carelessly, laughingly, she tossed him about as though he were not flesh and bone but merely an effigy of inflated rubber. And Herr Sandwina is no insignificant man, either: Rather short of stature when he has the opportunity to stand up, he stretches to his full height and makes you aware of his well-muscled 156 pounds.
She had entered gracefully into the arena on her supple, slender, silk-encased limbs. She is a large but perfectly proportioned woman, like a shining statue of a heroic Venus.
I hate to add one more comparison of the female sex to the cat tribe, but, yes, Frau Sandwina does have panther-like attributes of swiftness and grace, and she does conceal great strength within soft, subtle curves.
You don’t hesitate to vent ohhh, and ahhh, for you have paid your good money to experience the thrills of the circus. But there was an unwonted fervency which was echoed along the rows of spectators, boldly, titteringly, half apologetically, self-consciously, and it set me to wondering:
What if all women were possessed of the strength of this circus top-liner? What vistas of possibilities would be opened up?
“Gee! Wouldn’t I love to be able to bat a man around like that!”
This sentiment came from a woman behind me as I sat watching the middle ring at the circus one night last week.
The inspiration of that inelegant remark was the act of Frau Sandwina, billed as “The Lady Hercules.”
At that moment she was twirling her husband about in dizzy circles above her head. Carelessly, laughingly, she tossed him about as though he were not flesh and bone but merely an effigy of inflated rubber. And Herr Sandwina is no insignificant man, either: Rather short of stature when he has the opportunity to stand up, he stretches to his full height and makes you aware of his well-muscled 156 pounds.
She had entered gracefully into the arena on her supple, slender, silk-encased limbs. She is a large but perfectly proportioned woman, like a shining statue of a heroic Venus.
I hate to add one more comparison of the female sex to the cat tribe, but, yes, Frau Sandwina does have panther-like attributes of swiftness and grace, and she does conceal great strength within soft, subtle curves.
You don’t hesitate to vent ohhh, and ahhh, for you have paid your good money to experience the thrills of the circus. But there was an unwonted fervency which was echoed along the rows of spectators, boldly, titteringly, half apologetically, self-consciously, and it set me to wondering:
What if all women were possessed of the strength of this circus top-liner? What vistas of possibilities would be opened up?