Look at the women of the comics pages: mothers, little girls, nurses, the chicks in Apartment 3G (and we’re sure we don’t know what’s going on in that hotbed of thrills). Intrepid, independent, illustrated women were hard to find. Luckily, we had Brenda Starr. We, too, could have adventures. Who cared about humdrum reality:
“Brenda Starr, Reporter” was sometimes criticized by journalists for its outlandish depiction of their profession. In one strip, Brenda brings a typed story to The Flash late at night and hands it to a custodian, who somehow gets it into the next day’s paper. On another occasion, she finds herself in an airplane she cannot fly, so she parachutes to safety, somehow landing in front of her editor’s window.
And, in perhaps the greatest breach of authenticity, she talks back to her managing editor.
