Marlon Brando’s creepy letter to a stewardess

I doubt any of us were under the impression that Marlon Brando wasn’t a super eccentric dude, but even with that knowledge, reading his creepy, 1966 pick-up letter to a stewardess is still enough to send douche chills through the ages.  Here’s the transcript, and keep in mind, in 1966, Brando still looked like the banner picture, and hadn’t yet turned into this.

When he wrote the following letter in 1966, Marlon Brando was above the Atlantic Ocean flying from New York to London. Also on that plane was the letter’s recipient: a senior air stewardess who, due to her taking care of another passenger following a sudden downturn in health mid-flight, had spent much of the journey sitting directly in front of the enigmatic actor. He was clearly enamoured by her, and handed over the note as he left the aircraft.

Dear Lady —

There is something not quite definable in your face — something lovely, not pretty in a conventionally thought of way. You have something graceful and tender and feminine (sp). You seem to be a woman who has been loved in her childhood, or else, somehow by the mystery of genetic phenomena you have been visited by the gifts of refinement, dignity and poise. Perhaps you cannot be accredited with all that.

Irrespective of your gothic aspects, you have passed something on in terms of your expression, mien and general comportment that is unusual and rewarding.

It’s been a pleasant if brief encounter and I wish you well and I hope we shall have occasion to cross eyes again sometime.

Best wishes

Marlon Brando

Savoy [via LettersofNote]

“Irrespective of your gothic aspects?”  Yikes.  He writes like an elementary school Armond White (and I’m totally picturing this girl as an 80s goth now, you’re welcome for that visual).  I’m sure she was thrilled to be told, “Dear Lady, you’re certainly not pretty in any conventional sense, but I think you’re swell.”

I can’t wait until 50 years from now, when my illegitimate children will be reading Channing Tatum’s booty-call letters at the Smithsonian (the Will Smiffsonian by then, probably).

“Yo, Gurl–

I know HELLA homeez probably be tellin you this, but fa real?  When you was bent over to clean up that Henny my boy K-Squawk spilt, I looked over and I wuz like DAAAYAMN, SON, THOSE TITEEZ IS LIKE [and here he appears to have drawn an explosion sound]

$tep up 2 tha $treet$

-Ya Boi, C-Tates”