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.
From under my Hat
last moment; a huge closet was kept filled with appropriate presents —enough and to spare for anyone's birthday.
In the house was a theater where pictures were seen long before their release. A saddle horse was ready for you at any moment. No matter how many house guests were there, a horse was provided for each one.
W.R. led the parade over hill and dale, and woe to you if you were unfortunate enough to get a nag that needed exercise and went ahead of W.R.'s. He liked Marion to ride directly behind him. She was terrified of horses, and half a dozen of the finest and safest were bought for her. She was a good sport and went along on the rides, but never for one moment enjoyed herself.
The long overnight trips, which W.R. referred to as "picnics," were worst of all for Marion. A picnic consisted of leaving San Simeon after lunch and stopping in a pleasant valley by a running stream. Servants went ahead with chuck wagons filled to overflowing with the same good food you got at the castle— pate de foie gras, thick filet mignon, and sparkling burgundy. After sleeping on cots under army tents, guests rode all next day to one of Mr. Hearst's faraway ranches for a dinner of chicken with all the trimmings. Automobiles waited to whisk you home in the usual luxury.
Only once did I have the pleasure of going on one of these so-called picnics. I became saddlesore long before reaching the promised land and practically fell off my horse when we got there. Dusk was closing in. There were no chuck wagons, no cooks, no Mexicans with guitars, no nothing. The more rugged members of the party, with Mr. Hearst in the lead, went on a search. The wagon had broken down; it was being repaired at top speed, but food would be delayed.
Someone had enough presence of mind to build a huge campfire. We started singing the current hits of the day. When the wagons hove in sight, provisions were unpacked and cocktails were hurriedly mixed and passed round in tin cups while we waited for food.
After dinner it was too late to put up more than two tents— one to house W.R. and the other for Marion. They were over to one side against a hill. The rest of us slept on cots under the stars.
Frances Marion and I were side by side and nearly had hysterics
158