He figured on cutting a little rectangular place in the back wall of Pippa’s room, about three feet by one, and arranging a sliding board to fit the aperture much like the cover of a box sliding in and out of grooves. The board was to be gradually lowered and beams of light from a powerful Kleig shining through would thus appear as the first rays of the rising sun striking the wall of the room. Other lights stationed outside Pippa’s window would give the effect of soft morning light. Then the lights full up, the mercury tubes a-sizzling, the room fully lighted, the back wall would have become a regular back wall again, with no little hole in it.
All this was explained to the camera men Billy Bitzer and Arthur Marvin, for the whole technical staff was in attendance on the production of this one thousand foot feature—one thousand feet being the length of our features at this time. Bitzer didn’t think much of the idea, but Arthur Marvin, who had seen his chief’s radical ideas worked out successfully before, was less inclined to skepticism. But response, on the whole, was rather snippy. While David would have preferred a heartier appreciation, he would not be deterred, and he spoke in rather plain words: “Well, come on, let’s do it anyhow; I don’t give a damn what anybody thinks about it.”
Pippa is asleep in her little bed. The dawn is coming—a tense moment—for Pippa must wake, sit up in her little bed, rise, cross to the window, and greet the dawn in perfect harmony with the mechanical force operating the sliding board and the Kleigs. All was manipulated in perfect tempo.
The skeptical studio bunch remained stubborn until the first projection of the picture upstairs. At first the comments came in hushed and awed tones, and then when the showing was over, the little experiment in light effects was greeted with uncontrolled enthusiasm.
“Pippa Passes” was released on October 4, 1909, a day of great anxiety. We felt pretty sure it was good stuff, but we were wholly unprepared for what was to happen. On the morning of October 10th, while we were scanning the news items in the columns of the New York Times, the while we imbibed our breakfast coffee, our unbelieving eyes were greeted with a column headlined thus:
BROWNING NOW GIVEN IN MOVING PICTURES
“Pippa Passes” the Latest Play
Without Words to be Seen
In the Nickelodeons
THE CLASSICS DRAWN UPON
Even Biblical Stories Portrayed For
Critical Audiences—Improvement
Due to Board of Censors
It was all too much—much too much. The newspapers were writing about us. A conservative New York daily was taking us seriously. It seemed incredible, but there it was before our eyes. It looked wonderful! Oh, so wonderful we nearly wept. Suddenly everything was changed. Now we could begin to lift up our heads, and perhaps invite our lit’ry friends to our movies!
This is what the New York Times man had to say:
“Pippa Passes” is being given in the nickelodeons and Browning is being presented to the average motion picture audiences, who have received it with applause and are asking for more.