Charlie Chaplins Own Story

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by Charlie Chaplin




  Charlie Chaplins Own Story

  Chaplin, Charlie

  Unknown (2011)

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  Product Description

  This illustrated biography, a true "rags to riches" story, was published in 1916.

  Being the faithful recital of a romantic career, beginning with

  the early recollections of boyhood in London and closing with

  the signing of his latest motion-picture contract.

  CHARLIE CHAPLIN'S

  OWN STORY

  BEING THE FAITHFUL RECITAL OF A ROMANTIC CAREER,

  BEGINNING WITH EARLY RECOLLECTIONS OF BOY-

  HOOD IN LONDON AND CLOSING WITH THE

  SIGNING OF HIS LATEST MOTION-

  PICTURE CONTRACT

  - Illustrated with Photographs -

  Copyright 1916

  The Bobbs-Merrill Company

  The subject of this biography takes great

  pleasure in expressing his obligations and

  his thanks to Mrs. Rose Wilder Lane for her

  valuable editorial assistance.

  CONTENTS

  Chapter Page

  I.

  In which I relate my experiences up to the

  age of five; and describe the occasion of

  my first public appearance on any stage... 11

  II.

  In which I make my first public appearance

  on the stage and my first success; and

  meet the red-faced man... 19

  III.

  In which I join the clog dancers; fail to

  get the cream tarts; and incur the wrath of

  Mr. Hawkins... 26

  IV.

  In which I feel very small and desolate;

  encounter once more the terrible wrath of

  Mr. Hawkins; and flee from it into the

  unknown perils of a great and fearful

  world... 34

  V.

  In which I have an adventure with a cow;

  become a lawless filcher of brandy-snaps;

  and confound an honest farmer ... 43

  VI.

  In which I come home again; accustom my-

  self to going to bed hungry; and have an

  unexpected encounter with my father... 50

  VII.

  In which I see my father for the last

  time; learn that real tragedy is silent; and

  go out into the world to make my own way...57

  VIII.

  In which I take lodgings in a barrel and

  find that I have invaded a home; learn some-

  thing about crime; and forgot that I was

  to share in nefarious profits ... 6O

  IX.

  In which I trick a Covent Garden co-star;

  get glorious news from Sidney; and make a

  sad trip to the hospital...71

  X. In which Sidney comes home to find father

  dead, mother too ill to recognize him and

  me half starved and in rags .... 81

  XI.

  In which I vainly make the rounds of the

  theatrical agents; almost go to sea; and

  at last get the chance for which I have

  long been yearning ... 88

  XII.

  In which I rehearse the part of the boy

  hero of the thrilling melodrama. From Rags

  to Riches; and start off on a tour of the

  provinces ... 96

  XIII.

  In which I encounter the difficulties

  of a make-up box; make my first appearance

  in drama; and learn the emptiness of suc-

  cess with no one to share it ... 103

  XIV.

  In which I taste the flavor of success;

  get unexpected word from my mother; and

  face new responsibilities ... 110

  XV.

  In which I understand why other people

  fall; burn my bridges behind me; and re-

  ceive a momentous telegram ... 117

  XVI.

  In which I journey to London; meet and

  speak with a wax-works figure; and make

  my first appearance in a great theater...125

  XVII.

  In which I play with a celebrated actor;

  dare to look at the royal box; pay a pen-

  alty for my awful crime; gain favor with

  the public; and receive a summons from

  another famous star ... 133

  XVIII.

  In which I refuse an offer to play in

  the provinces; make my final appearance as

  Billy at the Duke of York's Theater; and

  suffer a bitter disappointment ... 140

  XIX.

  In which my fondest hopes are shattered

  by cold reality; I learn the part played by

  luck on the Strand; and receive an unex-

  pected appeal for help ... 147

  XX.

  In which I try to drown my troubles In

  liquor and find them worse than before;

  try to make a living by hard work and

  meet small success; and find myself at

  last in a hospital bed, saying a surprising

  thing ... 154

  XXI.

  In which I encounter the inexorable

  rules of a London hospital, causing much

  consternation; fight a battle with pride;

  and unexpectedly enter an upsetting situation

  ...162

  XXII.

  In which I attempt to be serious and am

  funny instead; seize the opportunity to

  get a raise in pay; and again consider

  coming to America ... 170

  XXIII.

  In which I startle a promoter; dream a great

  triumph in the land of skyscrapers and

  buffalo; and wait long for a message ... 178

  XXIV.

  In which I discover many strange things

  in that strange land, America; visit San

  Francisco for the first time; and meet an

  astounding reception in the offices of a

  cinematograph company ... 186

  XXV.

  In which I find that the incredible has hap-

  pened; burn my bridges behind me and

  penetrate for the first time the myste-

  rious regions behind the moving-picture

  film ...194

  XXVI.

  In which I see a near-tragedy which

  is a comedy on the films; meet my fellow

  actors, the red and blue rats; and prepare

  to fall through a trap-door with a pie ... 201

  XXVII.

  In which, much against my will, I eat

  three cherry pies; see myself for the first

  time on a moving-picture screen and discover

  that I am a hopeless failure on the films..209

  XXVIII.

  In which I introduce an innovation in

  motion-picture production; appropriate an

  amusing mustache; and wager eighty dollars

  on three hours' work ...217

  XXIX.

  In which I taste success in the movies;

  develop a new aim in life; and form an am-

  bitious project ... 225

  XXX.

  In which I see myself as others see me;

  learn many surprising things about myself

  from divers sources; and see a bright

  future ahead ... 232

  XXXI.

  In which the moving-picture work palls

  on me; I make other plans, am persuaded tor />
  abandon them and am brought to the

  brink of a deal in high finance ... 239

  XXXII.

  In which I see success in my grasp;

  proudly consider the heights to which I have

  climbed; and receive an unexpected shock

  ... 247

  XXXIII.

  In which I realize my wildest dreams

  of fortune; ponder on the comedy tricks of

  life and conclude without reaching any

  conclusion ... 253

  CHAPTER I

  In which I relate my experiences up to the

  age of five; and describe the occasion of my

  first public appearance on any stage.

  LIFE itself is a comedy — a slap-stick comedy

  at that. It is always hitting you over the head

  with the unexpected. You reach to get the

  thing you want — slap ! hang ! It's gone ! You

  strike at your enemy and hit a friend. You

  walk confidently, and fall. Whether it is trag-

  edy or comedy depends on how you look at it.

  There is not a hair's breadth between them.

  ...

  When I was eleven years old, homeless and

  starving in London, I had big dreams. I was

  a precocious youngster, full of imagination

  and fancies and pride. My dream was to be-

  come a great musician, or an actor like Booth.

  Here I am to-day, becoming a millionaire be-

  cause I wear funny shoes. Slap-stick comedy,

  what?

  11

  Still, there is not much laughter in the

  world, and a lot of that is cynical. As long

  as I can keep people laughing good chuckling

  laughs I shall be satisfied. I can't keep it

  up long, of course. The public is like a child;

  it gets tired of its toys and throws them away.

  When that happens I shall do something else,

  and still be satisfied. I always knew that some

  day I would have my share of the spot-light,

  and I am having it, so after all I have realized

  my ambitions.

  My mother is proud of it. That is another

  of life's slap-stick comedies — that my mother,

  one of the proudest, most gentle women in

  England, should hope for twenty years that

  some day I would be a great tragic actor, and

  now should lie in an English hospital, glad

  that I am greeted with howls of laughter when-

  ever I appear in comedy make-up on the mov-

  ing-picture screen.

  When I was two or three years old my mother

  began to be proud of my acting. After she

  and my father came back from their work

  in the London music-halls they used to have

  little parties of friends for supper, and

  father would come and pull me out of bed to

  stand on the table and recite for them.

  12

  My father was a great, dark, handsome man.

  He would put me upon his shoulder to bring

  me out, and I did not like it, because his

  rough prickly cheek hurt me. Then he would

  set me upon the table in my nightgown, with

  the bright lights hurting my eyes, and every

  one would laugh and tell me to sing for the

  drops of wine in their glasses. I always did,

  and the party applauded and laughed and called

  for more. I could mimic every one I had ever

  seen and sing all the songs I had heard.

  They would keep me doing it for hours, un-

  til I got so sleepy I could not stand up and

  fell over among the dishes. Then mother

  picked me up and carried me to bed again.

  I remember just how her hair fell down over

  the pillow as she tucked me in. It was brown

  hair, very soft and perfumed, and her face was

  so full of fun it seemed to sparkle. That was

  in the early days, of course.

  I do not know my mother's real name. She came

  of a good respected family in London, and when

  she was sixteen she ran away and married my

  father, a music-hall actor. She never heard

  from her own people again. She drifted over

  England and the Continent with my father,

  and went on the music-hall stage herself.

  They never made much money, and my father

  spent it all. Most of the time we lived

  very poorly, in actors' lodgings, and my

  mother worried about food for us. Then there

  would he a streak of luck, and we all had new

  clothes and lived lavishly for a few days.

  13

  My brother Sidney was four years old when I

  was born in a little town in France, between

  music-hall engagements. As soon as my

  mother could travel we went back to London,

  and she went to work again. Her stage name

  was Lillie Harley, and she was very popular

  in English music-halls, where she sang char-

  acter songs. She had a beautiful sweet voice,

  but she hated the stage and the life. Some-

  times at night she came into my bed and cried

  herself to sleep with her arms around me, and

  I was so miserable that I wanted to scream,

  but I did not dare, for fear of waking my

  father.

  He was Charles Chaplin, the singer of descrip-

  tive ballads. His voice was a fine baritone,

  and he was a great music-hall success and

  is still remembered in England. My mother

  and he were always laughing and singing to-

  gether, and my mother was very fond of him,

  but a little afraid, too. When he was angry

  she grew white and her hands shook. She had

  thin delicate hands, which reminded me of the

  claws of some little bird when she dressed me.

  14

  In spite of the hit-and-miss life we led,

  always moving from town to town, and my

  mother's hard work on the stage and our lack

  of money, she took pride in keeping my brother

  and me beautifully dressed. At night, after

  her music-hall work was done and the party

  had gone, I woke and saw her pressing out

  our little white Eton collars and brushing our

  suits, while every one was asleep.

  One day, when I was about five years old,

  Sidney and I were playing on the floor when

  my mother came in, staggering. I thought

  she was drunk. I had seen so many persons

  drunk it was commonplace to me, but seeing

  my mother that way was horrible. I opened

  my mouth and screamed in terror. I screamed

  and screamed ; it seemed as if I could not

  stop.

  Sidney ran out of the room. My mother did not

  look at me; she stumbled across the room and

  tried to take off her hat. All her hair came

  tumbling down over her face, and she fell on

  the bed.

  15

  After a while I crawled over and touched

  her hand, which hung down. It was cold, and

  it frightened me so I could not make a sound.

  I backed under the bed, little by little,

  until I reached the wall, and sat there,

  still, staring at my mother's hand.

  After a long time the door opened and I

  saw my father's boots walk in. I heard him

  swearing. The boots c
ame over and stood by

  the bed. I smelled whisky, and after a while

  I heard my mother's voice, very weak.

  "Don't be a hysterical fool. You've got to

  work to-night. We need the money," my

  father said.

  "I can't. I'm not up to it. I'm sick," I

  heard my mother say, sobbing.

  My father's boots stamped up and down the

  room.

  "Well, I'll take Charlie, then," he said.

  "Where's the brat?"

  I backed closer to the wall, and kept still.

  With no reason, I was terrified. Then the

  door opened again, my father's boots tramped

  out and down the stairs, and I heard my

  mother calling me. I came slowly out from

  under the bed.

  16

  My mother said she wanted me to go on the

  stage in her place that night and sing my very

  best. I said I would. Then she had me bring

  her a little new coat she had made for me, and

  a fresh collar. She still lay on the bed, and

  my chin barely came above the edge of it, so

  it took her a long time to dress me and to get

  my hair combed to suit her. She was still busy

  with it when my father came back.

  Then she kissed me in a hurry and told me

  to do my best. My father took my hand and

  we started to the music-hall. We were at Al-

  dershot, a garrison town, and soldiers were

  everywhere. I kept tipping my head back to

  see their uniforms as they passed us, and my

  father was jerking me along at such a rate my

  neck nearly snapped in two.

  We were late when we reached the music-

  hall. I had never seen one before ; my mother

  had always put us to bed before she went to

  work. My father took me down a little alley,

  through a bare dim place, to one end of the

  stage. I saw a big crowd on the other side

  of it — just hundreds of heads massed together.

  There were music and noise, and the stage was

  a glare of light.

  17

  A girl in tights and shiny spangles came

  and put grease paint on my cheeks, and when

  I wanted to rub it off they would not let me.

  Then it was time for my mother's act, and my

  father faced me toward the stage and gave me

  a little push.

  "Go out and sing Jack Jones" he said.

  CHAPTER II

  In which I make my first public appearance

  on the stage and my first success ; and

  meet the red-faced man.

  I WALKED uncertainly out on the stage. The

  glare of the lights dazzled me so I stumbled.

  The stage seemed a great empty place, and

 

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