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Los Angeles Times, January 20th, 1915 |
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Edna is at far right. Source: Linda Wada -- www.ednapurviance.org |
When I got there, they gave me a big, black robe, and the ceremony went ahead. I still wasn't sure whether I would speak or not--I had an attack of bronchitis, and could hardly speak above a whisper. Then they told me that I could say something if I wished. I did.
I looked around the audience and I saw him (Trevor-Roper) sitting there, but I didn't look at him directly, and didn't know if I should mention him or his attack, or not. I began, and I said to them, 'I cannot compete with you on knowledge, so I cannot talk about "truth." And I couldn't presume to try to tell you about "goodness" or morality, that's something you understand better than I. But I can talk about "beauty"--that's a matter of individual taste, and preference. I guess we're all equals when it comes to beauty....
And you know, beauty can be found in the most unexpected places. It can be seen (and with a wave of the hand, the whole audience, and the small, black sea of Oxford dons addressed by this English slum boy was before me) in a back alley, with a shaft of sunlight suddenly cutting across a rubbish bin, spilling over with trash...Or, it can be in a rose...floating down a gutter. Or even (slight pause), in the antics of a clown.'
And then I looked straight at him, and they applauded, and that's all I said.
(Steffens, "Chaplin: The Victorian Tramp," Ramparts, March 1965)
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Charlie is at left. Syd is second from right. Frank J. Gould, far right. |
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Florence Gould shakes hands with Charlie. Carlyle Robinson is at left facing CC. The woman on the right might be Elsa Maxwell, a friend of Chaplin's, whom he saw during his visit in Nice. |
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Charlie and Syd. |
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Florence Gould pins a flower on Charlie's lapel. Syd is at right. I believe that's Boris Evelinoff in the center. Carlyle Robinson is in back behind CC. |
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Oakie and Chaplin on the set of The Great Dictator. |
"Charlie's working on an idea for a picture about Hitler," Sid said. And in afterthought I remember that he used to look me over as if her were trying to guess my weight. Never dreaming that he would ever send for me, because I wasn't German and felt sure there was nothing in a Hitler picture that I could play. I cheerfully joked about the idea.
"Sounds good to me, Sid. After all, Hitler's been trying to imitate Charlie wearing his mustache."1
So when Charlie did send word that he wanted to speak to me I could hardly believe it. I began guessing that perhaps with my rotund build he was considering me for a character like Goering.
"Oakie," he said, "I've been watching you, and I hear you have a reputation for being a wise-cracker. How would you like to be in a picture about Hitler?"
"What would I play, Charlie?" I asked.
"Goering?"
"No! Oakie, I want you to play Mussolini," he said.
"Mussolini!" I couldn't believe it. "Charlie, you must be kidding."
"No, Oakie, I'm not kidding. I want you to play Mussolini."
"Charlie, I'm Scotch-Irish," I protested, almost talking myself out of the job. "You want an Italian to play Mussolini."
"What's so funny about an Italian playing Mussolini?" he asked.
"Charlie," I said as fast as I could, "I'm your man!"
"Good, good," he said. He could see how thrilled I was. "Good!" he said again and meekly raised his left palm, Nazi fashion, and saluted me. He kept his elbow tucked into his waist and held his hand below shoulder level. It was the sheepish salutation he used all through the picture. (Jack Oakie, "When Your Boss Is Charlie Chaplin,"Saturday Evening Post, April 1978)
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With Paulette Goddard & CC at the New York premiere of The Great Dictator. Chaplin is giving a Hynkel salute to the crowd. |
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CC is second from left. At far right are Toraichi Kono and Harry d'Arrast |
"We made gt friends with Charlie Chaplin. You cd not help liking him. The boys were fascinated by him. He is a marvellous comedian - bolshy in politics - delightful in conversation. He acted his new film for us in a wonderful way. It is to be his gt attempt to prove that the silent drama or pantomime is superior to the new talkies. Certainly if pathos & wit still count for anything it is out to win an easy victory." (www.loc.gov)
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Property of Roy Export SAS |
The midnight show at the Coconut Grove was coming to an end. The star performer was one Gene Austin, a sugary crooner who had an alarming, but highly admired, habit of modulating his final notes a whole octave higher and so giving out the sound of a boy soprano or castrato. “Revolting” muttered Chaplin, who had declined into a brooding silence. Riding home, Paulette kept up the heartbreaking pretense that from now on her evenings would be agog with music and dancing. Chaplin gave her a black parental look. He started in about the cacophony of jazz, which he hated, and went on about the decadence of night life, the excruciating “eunuch” sounds to which he had been subjected, and the fate, similar to that of Sodom, which would shortly overtake the Republic. Paulette saw her vision collapse like the Ghost of Christmas Present. A tear ran down her enchanting face as she said, “What are we supposed to do evenings—stay home and write theses?!” Well, Chaplin replied, “One night a year is enough of that rubbish!”
At the house, his spirits revived, but there was no champagne to help them along. He never, through the two years I knew him best, drank or offered alcohol. He ordered his men to fetch a huge pitcher of water and the required number of tumblers. Our wedding party ended on a scene that would have warmed the heart of a Southern Baptist. We sat there yawning slightly, throwing in monosyllabic responses to Chaplin’s elegy on the modern world, and took long meditative drafts of pure cold water. (Alistair Cooke, Six Men, 1956)
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Note the ad for Gay's Lion Farm. Their most famous lion, Numa, appeared in the film. I wrote an article about it for Flicker Alley's "The Archives" blog here. |
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CC is chatting with Gladys Peabody. At left is Reginald Gardiner (Schultz is The Great Dictator) |
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With Einstein at the premiere. |
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The new Los Angeles Theater boasted a restaurant, art gallery, "crying room" for mothers, shoeshine parlor, ballroom, etc. Halfway through the premiere, the management thought it was a good idea to stop the film, flip on the lights, and have a voice over the loudspeaker describe the theater's fabulous features. Chaplin was furious and went looking for the "son of a bitch manager." The crowd was with him and began stamping their feet, applauding, and eventually booing until the lights went off and the film restarted. (MA, pg. 330) |
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Einstein and his wife are on either side of Chaplin. Georgia Hale is at far right. Among the famous names who attended the premiere were King Vidor, Gloria Swanson, Constance Bennett, Marion Davies, Thelma Todd, Claire Windsor, John Barrymore, Merna Kennedy, Dolores Del Rio, and Gary Cooper. |
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Charlie plays a would-be actor in His New Job. |
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The actress at the typewriter in the back is Gloria Swanson in an early uncredited film appearance. The film also stars Ben Turpin, Leo White (right) and Charlotte Mineau (next to Chaplin). |
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Photoplay, October 1930 (click to enlarge) |
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From Buster Keaton: Cut To The Chase by Marion Meade |
There is an old saw which still retains most of its teeth to the effect that "Clothes Don't Make the Man." It would probably be equally the part of sagacity to remark that in a vast majority of instances "man don't make the clothes." There are, however, conspicuous exceptions to both of these bromidic rules: In fact, Charlie Chaplin may be looked upon as a living embodiment of an exception to each. To find proof of this odd circumstance it is only necessary to reflect that under the spell of a weird inspiration, Mr. Chaplin watched a battered old derby hat, a wilted collar that once was white, an indescribable morning coat, a pair of unmentionable trousers and shoes no shoemaker ever could peg, become the greatest comedy costume the world has known.
That sounds like a feat that would defy repetition. But it was done. again, and it was Mr. Chaplin who did it the second time. For the clothes which Jackie Coogan wears, and which are wrapped around his fame dip as a little screen wonder were selected for him by the great Charles.
Jackie Coogan as The Kid. Photo by James Abbe |
A disreputable sweater which had been worn by Charlie in the dim past hung forgotten in a closet of the Chaplin studios. It was mildewed with age; it bore the stains of custard—honorable battle-scars sustained in the strenuous old pie-slinging days. But its glories were gone; there wasn't a laugh left in it. Then Charlie led it gently into the sunshine; fumigators fell upon it; and it returned shriven of soul. When part of the sleeves were cut off and the waist shortened, it fitted Jackie Coogan--here and there.
It was obvious that little Jackie could not go pantless through six reels of motion pictures; but the task of getting trousers which would keep disreputable company with the cap and sweater was a big one. At first Chaplin thought of overalls; but they never could appear shabby enough to meet his ideas. While he was pondering the subject Benny Zeidman, the diminutive producer, appeared at
the studio. Inspired, the comedian suddenly inquired:
"Got any old pants, Benny?"
"These old enough?" Denny demanded. He had just come off the lot and was not looking his usual immaculate self. "When do you want them?"
"Now!" said Chaplin.
Jackie himself contributed the shoes, but Chaplin put the finishing touches to them by cutting them open at the tips to allow the kid's toes to show through. And that is the origin of the wardrobe which will go down through screen history. ("Chaplin's Sartorial Art,"Washington Post, December 25, 1921. Author unknown.)