Charlie Chaplins Own Story
Page 1
Charlie Chaplins Own Story
Chaplin, Charlie
Unknown (2011)
* * *
* * *
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 to
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