A photographer for the New York Times living in the 1930s.
Marty is, for lack of a better word, just a nice guy. He's laid-back and trusting for the most part, and likes to crack a few jokes here and there. He can be quite worrisome sometimes, either about his sister doing stupid things or a certain pair of reporters that seem unable to stay out of trouble as of late. Marty isn't much of a romantic, either. He's never really considered having a relationship with a woman, and isn't about to start. Needless to say, he isn't a flirt; he was raised as a gentleman, and still is one today. Overall, just a really likable fellow.
In all honesty, Marty doesn't really have many worldly possessions, never mind equipment. He does have his camera, of course, which he is not often seen without, but other than that...there really isn't anything else worth mentioning.
Marty was born on a farm in Virginia, spending his childhood climbing trees and running through fields. His family, made up of two sisters, Polina and Karen, and his parents, weren't exactly wealthy, but they were happy enough. Marty, however, seemed to think he was destined for bigger things, and moved to New York at the age of 21, determined to live large. But, like most New Yorkers, he soon found that making it big in the city isn't exactly easy, and Marty never had the perseverance or determination needed to get to the top. When he got his hands on his first camera, he became one of the few people in the city that actually likes his job. Mind, that doesn't mean it's a great occupation; over the past few years, he's just been managing to scrape together a living. It was only just recently that he managed to secure a job at the New York Times, and the consistent pay checks, if small, have helped him to live a relatively comfortable, middle-class life. Though perhaps 'secure' wouldn't be the best word for it; he's pretty sure that his superiors are just waiting for a reason to fire him.