It took nine tailors (1948)

6: The Parisian Type $jf^\ N Monday I arrived in New York with four dollars in ;| leash and no wardrobe. The only thing I had that could aX^./ be converted into cash was a diamond ring Father had given me on my twenty-first birthday. I went to Simpson's hock shop and pawned my ring for sixty-five dollars. Next I rented a room opposite the Astor Hotel for four-fifty a week— in advance. Then I went to Monroe's (walk up one flight and save ten dollars) and ordered a full dress and a cutaway. They fixed me up in twenty minutes. The collar of the cutaway was too large, so it made me look like a curious turtle, and the sleeves of the dress coat were a little too long; but I had a wardrobe. I had not only a wardrobe but also a little over six dollars left. In those days six dollars in my pocket always seemed like twice as much as I needed, so I decided to call up a girl with whom I was madly in love and shoot the six dollars. The first one was busy, but the second one was not. I donned my full-dress clothes and took her to The Birth of a Nation, which had just opened on Broadway. It was a great mistake, because the picture was so terrific that I never once thought of holding hands. The Birth of a Nation made all motion pictures that had gone before seem as dull as Elks Club's minstrel shows. It was full of more new tricks than a magician's coat. Today the things that D. W. Griffith first introduced are as commonplace as the double take, but in those days many of his innovations were revolutionary. It must be remembered that the art of telling a story in motion pictures was hampered by minds that had been grooved to 44