We use Optical Character Recognition (OCR) during our scanning and processing workflow to make the content of each page searchable. You can view the automatically generated text below as well as copy and paste individual pieces of text to quote in your own work.
Text recognition is never 100% accurate. Many parts of the scanned page may not be reflected in the OCR text output, including: images, page layout, certain fonts or handwriting.
88 MOTION PICTURE MAGAZINE some lassie"—I cant help humming the old Scotch lilt when I think of her, the winsome, witty, pretty girl who sits at her desk, in the Eclair offices, with the seeming abandon of a debutante at the keyboard of a Baby Grand. I might as well come out with it flat-footed—Mrs. F. Marion Bran- don. 'Ware, you soft-hearted bachelors who may chance to receive the shaft of one of her straight-from-the-shoulder, ingenuous, learned, guileless, spark- ling epistles. Mrs. P. Marion Bran- don, please remember that. Marion Brandon studied law, and then, instead of taking her "bar exams," with the tender-hearted per- versity of women, went and married —a lawyer. Perhaps she got tired of "putting it all over him" in moot cases before the family bar, for, at any rate, she started in for newspaper space-writing. About this time, prodigal John "Wanamaker, thru his little shop, offered a $1,000 grand prix for the best design for furnishing an eight- room apartment. Dynamic Marion Brandon went in for the juicy prize, and won it—thereby shocking her faith in the value of newspaper space- writing. She is thoro if anything. It took her three months to brush up on decoration, furniture, furnishings, works of art, proportion, lighting, harmonization and other things, but, much to her surprise and delight, she got the $1,000 check. That started her on her second epoch, an advertising career, and she turned out "copy" for R. H. Macy that brought tears to the eyes of shoppers with short purse-strings. The Universal Film Company had a suspicion that if she, the youngest woman in advertising, could inject heart-throbs into lingerie "ads," she could do somewhat better in photoplays. So they sent for her, ad- justed the salary end satisfactorily upward, and she crossed her dainty boots under their editorial desk. Last spring, when the Eclair Com- pany began to bulk large as a pro- ducing factor in America, she picked up her editorial skirts, whisked into their office, laughed out loud, scattered scripts all about her and started the ball rolling. She confided to me that in spare time she formerly wrote, as associate editor, their snappy and alluring trade organ, The Eclair Bulletin. Marion Brandon is mercurial—so much so that she has persuaded such authors as Booth Tarkington, Manlove Rhodes and Eleanor Gates to pasture in the photoplay field. There is never any doubt when she likes a man's work. Her brown eyes sparkle; her breath comes quickly; the script is bought without an instant of hemming and hawing. She has written plays, photoplays, grand prix, text-books, special ar- ticles, advertising copy, picturized O. Henry's "Caballeros' Way" and "Stirrups' Brother," so what next? When Marion Brandon pushes her papers aside and goes home for the day, it's at the end of a busy one. There's temperament in even the way she slips down, with a bang, the slid- ing cover of her desk.