Stammering, Its Cause and Cure | Page 7

received no benefit whatever. I later came to the
conclusion that the medicine man had been in the neighborhood long
enough to have pointed out to him "BEN BOGUE'S BOY WHO
STUTTERS" (as I was known) and had decided that when I was in his
audience a hint or two on the virtues of his wonderful remedy in cases
of stammering, would be sufficient to extract a dollar from me for a
tryout.
These experiences, however, were valuable to me, even though they
were costly, for they taught me a badly-needed lesson, to wit: That
drugs and medicines are not a cure for stammering.
Many of the people who came in contact with me, and those who talked
the matter over with my parents, said that I would outgrow the trouble.
"All that is necessary," remarked one man, "is for him to forget that he
stammers, and the trouble will be gone."
This was a rather foolish suggestion and simply proved how little the
man knew about the subject. In the first place, a stammerer cannot
forget his difficulty--who can say that he would be cured if he did? You
might as well say to a man holding a hot poker, "If you will only forget
that the poker is hot, it will be cool." It takes something more than
forgetfulness to cure stammering.
The belief held by both my parents and myself that I would outgrow
my difficulty was one of the gravest mistakes we ever made. Had I
followed the advice of others who believed in the outgrowing theory it

eventually would have caused me to become a confirmed stammerer,
entirely beyond hope of cure.
Today, as a result of twenty-eight years' daily contact with stammerers,
I know that stammering cannot be outgrown. The man who suggests
that it is possible to cure stammering by outgrowing it is doing a great
injustice to the stammerer, because he is giving him a false hope--in
fact the most futile hope that any stammerer ever had. I wish I could
paint in the sky, in letters of fire, the truth that "Stammering cannot be
outgrown," because this, of all things, is the most frequent pitfall of the
stammerer, his greatest delusion and one of the most prolific causes of
continued suffering. I know whereof I speak, because I tried it myself. I
know how many different people held up to me the hope that I would
outgrow it.
My father offered me a valuable shotgun if I would stop stammering.
My mother offered me money, a watch and a horse and buggy. These
inducements made me strain every nerve to stop my imperfect
utterance, but all to no avail. At this time I knew nothing of the
underlying principles of speech and any effort which I made to stop my
stammering was merely a crude, misdirected attempt which naturally
had no chances for success.
I learned that prizes will never cure stammering. I found out too,
something I have never since forgotten: that the man, woman or child
who stammers needs no inducement to cause him to desire to be cured,
because the change from his condition as a stammerer to that of a
nonstammerer is of more inducement to the sufferer than all the money
you could offer him. I have never yet seen a man, woman or child who
wanted to stammer or stutter.
The offer of prizes doing no good, I took long trips to get my mind off
the affliction. I did everything in my power, worked almost day and
night, exerted every effort I could command--it was all in vain.
The idea that I would finally outgrow my difficulty was strengthened in
the minds of my parents and friends by the fact that there were times
when my impediment seemed almost to disappear, but to our surprise

and disappointment, it always came back again, each time in a more
aggravated form; each time with a stronger hold upon me than ever
before.
I found out, then, one of the fundamental characteristics of
stammering--its intermittent tendency. In other words, I discovered that
a partial relief from the difficulty was one of the true symptoms of the
malady. And I learned further that this relief is only temporary and not
what we first thought it to be, viz: a sign that the disorder was leaving.

CHAPTER III
MY SEARCH CONTINUES
My parents' efforts to have me cured, however, did not cease with my
visit to the medicine man. We were still looking for something that
would bring relief. My teacher, Miss Cora Critchlow, handed me an
advertisement one day, telling me of a man who claimed to be able to
cure stammering by mail. In the hope that I would get some good from
the treatment, my parents sent