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Preston Sturges on his change of career in 1930:

“…I had a vision.

I saw the theatre as a poor, puny, weak little old man, the last living member of a once rugged dynasty, supported by nurses and peeking out the great gloomy window of a decaying mansion. Surrounding him were fifteen doctors, all well intentioned, who guided, watched over, washed, put to bed, physicked and fumigated the little moribund within an inch of his life. Across his pyjamas was printed The Theatre, and what he was peeking out the window at was a big twilly in her working clothes on the sidewalk.

She wore high-button shoes with white tops, a checkered dress, very tight around the waist, a wide, patent-leather belt, a feather boa, a big hat with ostrich plumes, and the self-confident smile of a female who knows that what she has, they want. Across her superb frontal elevation was printed The Movies. As I watched, she turned and winked good-naturedly at the little old man inside the great mansion, a wink of such vulgarity and epic proportions that it shattered the plate glass as it went through the window, and blew the little group fluttering back into the shadows. She laughed, then noticing me said, "Come up and see me some time.”

So I went up and saw her.“


(Thanks to Jon Davies for the find.)