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.
TRUE Life Story of
Told in the form of fiction.
C[ One of the daintiest parts that Marian J^ixon ever played was "Spangles".
i
MM
Micksy!"
Marian Nixon turned and faced the leather lunged lad who had just demonstrated his idea of how a future screen star should be addressed. The freckled youth stopped running as he approached her, all out of breath. She set her little lunch box on the sidewalk while the boy from next door held out a dirty hand in which he had been clutching a small piece of narrow pink ribbon. "Your mother says for you to bring home two feet of
this for your "
"Don't you mean two yards?"
"Yes. Two yards of this for your "
"Never mind what for", she replied, coloring slightly, as girls were expected to do under such circumstances in the dark ages five years back.
Marian picked up her lunch box while the boy scampered off. She looked at her wrist watch anxiously as she hastened in the direction of the largest department store in Minneapolis, where she was employed.
She saw that the locker room was distressingly empty as she entered it through the employees'1 door. She was late again and a dollar would be deducted from .her
envelope at the end of the following week. This was disconcerting. She would have to do without a dollar's worth of something, but she couldn't imagine what. It took every penny
The bland floor walker smiled indulgently as she took her place behind one of the long counters. She felt relieved, for she had expected him to remind her that she was late. It was late. It was bad enough to lose the money, without having to hear anything unpleasant.
No sooner had she pinned her regulation black apron than the floor walker came toward her with all his white, even teeth surrounded by the smile that kills. Hair gloss for males was still in its infancy at this period in history, but this home breaker was so intimate with the newest French cosmetics that his black hair gave his gleaming teeth some serious competition.
"You look worried, Miss Nixon," he said, looking at his watch, "Did you think you were late?"
"Why — yes." She noticed that some of the other girls were exchanging significant glances, with obvious reference to her.
"Well you weren't at all," he assured her, "I've fixed it." Then straightening up with the just pride of one who occupies such an exalted (Continued on page 101)
33