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.
2. THE sign of the fighting showman went spectacularly aloft in the late summer of 1949. DeMille figured there was only one way to learn about circuses and that was to join one on tour. With a writer, secretary and publicist, he picked up the Ringling Brothers* circus in Milwaukee and took the northern swing, digging his nose in the sawdust, soaking up circus customs and living with the performers. The merger struck quite a number of fancies. In town after town the news that DeMille was with the circus brought out capacity crowds, delighted over what struck them as a first-rate combination—DeMille and Barnum, two high priests of showmanship. The circus's advance men made much capital of the double billing. The spectators had expected to see a tailored executive, per- haps enthroned in a special box surrounded by servitors. Their gaze met instead a stalking figure in breeches, boots and open shirt, peering through a camera "finder" at Bengal tigers within a foot of striking range. He went around and through the per- formers, scaling rope ladders to aerialist platforms, often out- distancing his staff, a determined Watson on the search for story clues for his circus picture. The rapt attention of thousands were fixed on the scampering DeMille at the precise moment aerialists were engaged in death-defying stunts. DeMille, possessed of a seasoned affection for the masses, was joyfully engaged in a bit of scene stealing! On the third day out he decided he wasn't getting up high enough for the kind of camera angles he had in mind. 257