Eating Where Charlie Ate

Charlie still lives in Hollywood. At least he does at Musso & Frank Grill on Hollywood Boulevard. That restaurant opened in 1919 and is still going strong. A very classy place, delicious meals, an incredible staff with waiters in their time-honored red jackets, managers in coats and ties. You don't see that often these days.

I had the good fortune to have dinner at Musso & Frank last week. I had been there many times before, but that was in the 1970's, 80's and 90's, when I travelled to LA a lot on business (advertising, shooting commercials). Happy to say, the restaurant has aged gracefully with not a hint of wrinkles. I had phoned for reservations and requested the booth where Chaplin used to sit. Front room, front booth, by the window. The maitre d told me someone else had already reserved it, but if they didn't show, I would get it.

We (my wife and son and I) arrived at 7:00 and were immediately shown...to the Chaplin booth. That made my evening, regardless of the meal or service. 


This was one of Charlie's favorite places. He, along with a roster of Hollywood legends, would eat there frequently: lunch, dinner, brunch. Among the famous: Doug Fairbanks, Mary Pickford, Rudolph Valentino, Budd Schulberg (glad they served writers there), Greta Garbo, the Warner brothers, Bogie and Bacall, Sinatra, Paulette Goddard with Charlie, and the list goes on through today: Depp, Clooney, Pitt, Hopper, etc.

I was told that the interior had not been changed, upgraded, "improved" in the almost 100 years since it opened, except for minor repairs and seat cover replacements. Here's what really hit home though. The wood around the back of the booth was the same as 1919. Not even painted or stained. Just the bare wood, worn smooth by decades of arms and hands and hats and coats being placed there during luxurious dinners and glamorous events. Which meant, when I put my hand on that wood behind where I was sitting, I was touching the same wood that Charlie had touched.

I closed my eyes, rested my hand on that worn wood, and reached deep into the past to touch Charlie. I think I did. Really. No great inspiration or idea for a new novel, but - this is a matter of faith - I knew I had touched him back in the 1920's, when he had become the most famous person in the world and still had many years and films ahead of him. Call me weird, but some things are possible, even in today's digital world.

The meal was outstanding. I had calves liver and onions, one of Charlie's favorites. I didn't have the courage to try the lamb kidneys, which was his favorite. Dedication can only take you so far. The waiters were absolutely perfect. I talked to one of the maitre d's, a fascinating guy named Bobby with a long resume' in the restaurant business, also a writer. I sent him a copy of my novel. He sent me 3 stories he's working on. He's a good writer.

They say you can't go home again. Wrong. You can. Just get the corner booth at Musso and Frank and you're home in Hollywood almost a hundred years ago.

For more about this restaurant:

The Magical Legacy of Musso and Frank Grill

Eating Where Charlie Ate

Charlie still lives in Hollywood. At least he does at Musso & Frank Grill on Hollywood Boulevard. That restaurant opened in 1919 and is still going strong. A very classy place, delicious meals, an incredible staff with waiters in their time-honored red jackets, managers in coats and ties. You don't see that often these days.

I had the good fortune to have dinner at Musso & Frank last week. I had been there many times before, but that was in the 1970's, 80's and 90's, when I travelled to LA a lot on business (advertising, shooting commercials). Happy to say, the restaurant has aged gracefully with not a hint of wrinkles. I had phoned for reservations and requested the booth where Chaplin used to sit. Front room, front booth, by the window. The maitre d told me someone else had already reserved it, but if they didn't show, I would get it.

We (my wife and son and I) arrived at 7:00 and were immediately shown...to the Chaplin booth. That made my evening, regardless of the meal or service. 


This was one of Charlie's favorite places. He, along with a roster of Hollywood legends, would eat there frequently: lunch, dinner, brunch. Among the famous: Doug Fairbanks, Mary Pickford, Rudolph Valentino, Budd Schulberg (glad they served writers there), Greta Garbo, the Warner brothers, Bogie and Bacall, Sinatra, Paulette Goddard with Charlie, and the list goes on through today: Depp, Clooney, Pitt, Hopper, etc.

I was told that the interior had not been changed, upgraded, "improved" in the almost 100 years since it opened, except for minor repairs and seat cover replacements. Here's what really hit home though. The wood around the back of the booth was the same as 1919. Not even painted or stained. Just the bare wood, worn smooth by decades of arms and hands and hats and coats being placed there during luxurious dinners and glamorous events. Which meant, when I put my hand on that wood behind where I was sitting, I was touching the same wood that Charlie had touched.

I closed my eyes, rested my hand on that worn wood, and reached deep into the past to touch Charlie. I think I did. Really. No great inspiration or idea for a new novel, but - this is a matter of faith - I knew I had touched him back in the 1920's, when he had become the most famous person in the world and still had many years and films ahead of him. Call me weird, but some things are possible, even in today's digital world.

The meal was outstanding. I had calves liver and onions, one of Charlie's favorites. I didn't have the courage to try the lamb kidneys, which was his favorite. Dedication can only take you so far. The waiters were absolutely perfect. I talked to one of the maitre d's, a fascinating guy named Bobby with a long resume' in the restaurant business, also a writer. I sent him a copy of my novel. He sent me 3 stories he's working on. He's a good writer.

They say you can't go home again. Wrong. You can. Just get the corner booth at Musso and Frank and you're home in Hollywood almost a hundred years ago.

For more about the restaurant and its legacy:

The magical history of Musso and Frank Grill

Geraldine Chaplin honored at the Chicago Film Festival

Charlie's daughter arrived at Essanay Studios, where her dad made one of his earliest films ("His New Job") for Essanay a hundred years ago. Here's a link to some info and photos on this special event.
Geraldine at Chicago Film Fest

A living connection to Chaplin's 1921 "The Kid"

An 8 x 10 manila envelope arrived in the mail last week. It was from an internet acquaintance named Steve Cox, who lives in Burbank, California. Steve and I have been in contact for a couple of years now, on matters that include Charlie, The Wizard of Oz and Margaret Hamilton, the Three Stooges, and other important issues of yesteryear. Here's a link to his "Oz" book. Munchkins of Oz

He had told me he was sending me "something pertaining to Chaplin," but gave no hint.

I opened the envelope. This is what was enclosed. A photo collage Steve put together. A signature, in blue ink, was by someone I had never heard of. Silas Hathaway. But I had seen Silas, in Charlie's "The Kid." Silas was the little baby that Charlie finds in an alley, thus beginning one of the most touching and entertaining movies Chaplin ever made, and his first feature-length film. 

Silas Hathaway, as of this writing, is still alive, living in the Los Angeles area. He is 97 years old but in failing health. Steve met him last year and had him sign this for me. 

Silas was born in 1919, the year Charlie began shooting "The Kid." Steve says he obviously has no recollection of the filming. But he did have his original work release card issued by the Chaplin studio for his one month work in 1919. Chaplin released the film in 1921 to great acclaim. And what happened to Silas? I have no idea. He may have been a one-hit wonder. But the wonder of it all is the connection that exists to this day between "The Kid" and the little baby in Chaplin's lap.

Thanks, Steve.

Charlie, Mickey and Walt

The idea of putting Charlie Chaplin, Mickey Mouse and Walt Disney in the same sentence never seemed like a possibility. Then I picked up my copy of Neal Gabler's impressive biography of Disney last week (signed, no less... by Neal, not Walt). That's where I discovered the connection between these three icons.  

The following is lifted directly from Gabler's 2006 book. 

“…Maurice Sendak found an ‘anarchy’ and ‘greediness’ in Mickey’s grin, the ‘gleeful beam of a sexual freedom,’ and said that when he designed his own Wild Things for the book Where the Wild Things Are, he based his drawings on this lascivious Mickey.

“That lasciviousness tied Mickey Mouse to another motion picture icon: Charlie Chaplin. Nearly every analysis of the early Mickey invoked Chaplin and cited the correspondences between the two - their leering aggressiveness, their impertinence, their sense of abandon, and especially what film historian Terry Ramsay at the time called ‘the cosmic victory of the underdog, the might of the meek’ that they

shared. Walt himself was certainly aware of the similarities because he had consciously used Chaplin, whom he once called ‘the greatest of them all,’ as a model. In devising Mickey Mouse, he said, ‘We wanted something appealing, and we thought of a tiny bit of a mouse that would have something of the wistfulness of Chaplin - a little fellow trying to do the best he could.’ Ben Sharpsteen said that Walt was constantly screening Chaplin films trying to pinpoint Chaplin’s basic appeal, and another animator, Ward Kimball, recalled that Walt was ‘always showing us how Chaplin did a certain thing.’ ‘He just could’t get him out of his system,’ Dick Hummer said of Walt’s obsession with Chaplin. ‘Walt kept the feeling of this little droll kind of pathetic little character who was always being picked on. But cleverly coming out on top anyway.’ When Edward Steichen photographed Walt for Vanity Fair, Walt sent him a sketch of Mickey impersonating Chaplin.

“But if Walt Disney had thought of Mickey Mouse as an animated surrogate for Charlie Chaplin, Mickey’s other father, Ub Iwerks, had thought of him in very different terms - as Douglas Fairbanks. ‘He was the superhero of his day,’ Iwerks said of Fairbanks, ‘always winning, gallant and swashbuckling.’ As for Mickey, ‘He was never intended to be a sissy. He was always an adventurous character… I had him do naturally the sort of thing Doug Fairbanks would do.’ Thus Mickey Mouse was born between two conceptions - between Chaplin and Fairbanks, between the scamp and the adventurer, between sympathy and vicariousness, between self-power itself. From the first he was an unstable creation, often veering from one pole to another, on one cartoon to the next.

“…..Mickey Mouse is in thrall to his own abilities of imaginative transformation. Whether he is turning an auto into an airplane or a cow into a xylophone, Mickey, like Chaplin and like Walt Disney himself, is always in the process of reimagining reality, and this is his primal, vicarious connection to the audience - the source of his power. He sees and hears things others don’t. He make the world his.”

Chaplin returned the admiration in the years ahead. In 1933, when Disney’s “Three Little Pigs” was released to great admiration, the Hollywood Writers Club honored Walt. “Chaplin, who rarely performed in public, climbed onto a small stage and did a pantomime in Walt’s honor.”

In 1936, Disney was negotiating a new distribution deal with United Artists, of which Chaplin was a founding partner. Chaplin said, “I don’t want to make any money on Walt, and anything I can ever do for him I will gladly perform.” However the deal fell through and the Disneys departed for RKO. 

One note of irony here about animator Ub Iwerks comparing Mickey to Doug Fairbanks: Charlie and Doug were close friends. In fact, Charlie often said that Doug Fairbanks was his only true friend in Hollywood. It took Ub and Walt and Mickey to keep these two friends together forever.

The Right, the Left, and Charlie

If you're the least bit interested in the history of the U.S. and the ramp up to WWII, you might pick up a copy of "The Sphinx," by Nicholas Wapshott. Complete title: "The Sphinx: Franklin Roosevelt, the Isolationists, and The Road to World War II." Yes, a lengthy title, but a fascinating read. The cast of characters includes FDR, Churchill, Lindbergh, Joe Kennedy, Father Coughlin, William Randolph Hearst, and even a mention of Charlie Chaplin.

I was curious about the manner in which the news media described Chaplin during that era. Among the many magazines and papers in my collection is Time Magazine of January 2, 1978. Under "Cinema," and the article titled, "Exit the Tramp, Smiling," there are a couple of paragraphs that connected to "The Sphinx." They were written by 
Stefan Kanfer. Here it is.

"Let a man rise in show business, even to so stratospheric a level as The Tramp's, and there comes an evening of the Long Knives. For Chaplin, night came early and stayed late. He became embroiled in a series of affairs. He married and divorced two teen-agers and earned a reputation as Hollywood's outstanding satyr. His dalliances shocked the nation and nearly ruined his career. But Chaplin always managed to rescue himself with new apologies and fresh performances.

"In 1940 he was attacked by right-wingers for his satire of Adolph Hitler and Benito Mussolini in The Great Dictator. Again he was rescued, this time by history. But after the war he could no longer be saved from his enemies. In the palmy days, a Hollywood story made the rounds. Actor: 'How should I play this scene, Mr. Chaplin?' The reply: 'Behind me and to the left.' It was more than a critique of the star's egomania; it was also a comment on his politics. Chaplin had, in fact, become a backer of Soviet-American friendship meetings - provided, of course, that he could fellow-travel in first class. That, plus his continual womanizing, was enough to earn him ad hominem attacks in the Congress. In 1952 Chaplin and his fourth wife, Oona - the daughter of Eugene O'Neill - whom he had married in 1943 when he was 54 and she was 18, learned that he would be detained if they reentered the U.S. His new film, Limelight,  was boycotted on the West Coast; the Saturday evening Post announced that Charlie was a 'pink Pierrot.'"









How complex celebrity and genius can become. How conflict can add or detract from the creations and the legacy. What would Chaplin had accomplished if he had distanced himself from politics, if he had spent the rest of his days in the U.S. Of course we'll never know. Still, it makes me wonder.

Here are final words of that article:
"The classic fadeout of the great Chaplin films still stays longest in the mind's screen: the crumpled harlequin, twitching his little shoulders, setting his head forward and skipping hopefully off on the unimproved road to Better Times. Chaplin may have thought a great deal about death, but he will be remembered longest for his jaunty, indomitable celebration of life."