Time for a Chaplin Statue

Two situations came together for me recently which tell me "it's about time."

The subject is a sculpture of Charlie Chaplin. In the United States.
Now you'd think there would be an appropriate statue of him in bronze somewhere in this country, but you'd be wrong. At least as far as I can tell. Certainly, there would be one in Hollywood, a town he helped create. They do have a bas relief of him on Hollywood Boulevard in front of the Hollywood Entertainment Museum.

There's another one of him across the street, in the lobby of the Hollywood-Roosevelt Hotel. It's a life-size Tramp sitting on a bench. And that's it.

About those two motivating events I mentioned:
I was talking to a friend of mine, Harry Weber, an accomplished sculptor with installations throughout the U.S., Europe, even Africa. He's currently working on a bronze statue of Elvis, to be placed in Springfield, Missouri. Don't ask me why Springfield. I didn't ask. Harry has created sculptures of Chuck Berry, Bobby Orr, 8 or 9 St. Louis Cardinal Hall of Famers, Doug Flutie, Tennessee Williams... the list is long and varied. You can see what I mean at Harry Weber sculptures

Harry and me with Chuck Berry sculpture.

Harry working on the Lewis & Clark sculpture.

I'm not trying to drum up business for Harry, though I'd love to see what he could do with Chaplin. I'm just trying to figure out why there is no significant sculpture of Chaplin, when so many other celebrities and non-celebrities have been immortalized in bronze. Harry says it is usually an individual that steps forward to initiate a project. So it seems no one has done that on Chaplin's behalf.

Which brings me to event #2.

The scene is London. Today. Thanks to my friend Carl Sturmer, I've learned that the British honored Chaplin with a sculpture by John Doubleday in 1981. Originally it was in a place of honor: across from William Shakespeare in Leicester Square. Quite a duo, Will and Charlie. Covers a wide range of creative excellence that originated in London. Even though Chaplin's career grew and flourished in Hollywood, his roots were deep in London.

Due to a major renovation, Charlie was moved to a side street, about two blocks from Will. Carl tracked it down and took these photos. He says, "I was really sad when I saw it standing there. Despite it all as I loitered for a few minutes people still stopped to take their picture with him. Nothing can kill his legacy."

Here's the World View on Chaplin sculptures. It's probably more comprehensive than you imagined. There are sculptures of Charlie in Alassio, Italy; Merida, Venezuela; Shanghai; Vevey, Switzerland; Waterville, Ireland; the Czech Republic; Hyderabad, India, and a couple of more.

So I say, "It's about time." For the United States to honor one of its greatest film artists with a magnificent sculpture in a place of honor. In Hollywood. That's where it should go, I believe. In a significant location. There are lots of folks in Hollywood (and Beverly Hills and Malibu and Bel Air) who could write a check tomorrow for this and not even notice the cost. There are lots of folks who probably owe at least some part of their success to Chaplin's accomplishments and ideas. Maybe I'm biased but I can't think of any other individual who so much represents what the legacy of movies and Hollywood is all about.

I'm not experienced at starting grass roots movements. But I'll try. You can send an email to Mayor Eric Garcetti of Los Angeles. Just tell him about this timely idea for a Chaplin sculpture. You can mention that 2014 is the 100th anniversary of the birth of The Little Tramp, and it happened in Venice, California. There's no better time to initiate this project.

mayor.garcetti@lacity.org

Also, you can drop a note to the LA Times. 

http://touch.latimes.com/#section/-1/article/p2p-79793461/

If this works, I've got a terrific idea. We'll all meet in L.A. for the dedication ceremony, followed by dinner at Musso & Frank Grill, a landmark on Hollywood Boulevard dating back to 1919. It was one of Charlie's favorite restaurants. I'll pick up the check...for the food...not the airfare. See you there. And thanks.

The Best of Times, the Worst of Times, and Charlie

Charlie Chaplin was born on April 16, 1889. It was a Tuesday. The calendar for 1889 is identical to 2013, so his birthday falls on a Tuesday this year. That made me wonder what London was like in 1889. I tried to find some first-hand accounts, but the closest I got were by Charles Dickens, who wrote 40 to 50 years before Chaplin was born.

Still, it was a start. The Victorian London he wrote about was a dirty city. The capital's sewers poured filth into the Thames; mountains of rubbish accumulated in the slums; the streets were thick with mud; the very air was poisoned by fog. "We have," said one journalist in 1889, "an accumulation of matter in the wrong place unexampled in the world's history." Fighting this rising tide of dirt was an army of workers, from crossing-sweepers, chimney-sweeps and dustmen, to those in less well-known occupations, such as dust-yard sifters, sewer flushers and street orderlies. 

In “Oliver Twist,” Dickens writes: "It was market-morning. The ground was

covered, nearly ankle-deep, with filth and mire; a thick steam, perpetually rising from the reeking bodies of the cattle, and mingling with the fog, which seemed to rest upon the chimney-tops, hung heavily above. All the pens in the centre of the large area, and as many temporary pens as could be crowded into the vacant space, were filled with sheep; tied up to posts by the gutter side were long lines of beasts and oxen, three or four deep. Countrymen, butchers, drovers, hawkers, boys, thieves, idlers, and vagabonds of every low grade, were mingled together in a mass; the whistling of drovers, the barking dogs, the bellowing and plunging of the oxen, the bleating of sheep, the grunting and squeaking of pigs, the cries of hawkers, the shouts, oaths, and quarrelling on all sides; the ringing of bells and roar of voices, that issued from every public-house; the crowding, pushing, driving, beating, whooping and yelling; the hideous and discordant dim that resounded from every corner of the market; and the unwashed, unshaven, squalid, and dirty figures constantly running to and fro, and bursting in and out of the throng; rendered it a stunning and bewildering scene, which quite confounded the senses."

In “Little Dorrit,” Dickens describes a London rain storm: ”In the country, the rain would have developed a thousand fresh scents, and every drop would have had its bright association with some beautiful form of growth or life. In the city, it developed only foul stale smells, and was a sickly, lukewarm, dirt- stained, wretched addition to the gutters.”

London would undergo significant changes between Dickens’ time and Charlie’s childhood. In 1800 the population of London was around one million. That number would grow to four and a half million by 1880. While fashionable areas like Regent and Oxford streets were growing in the west, new docks supporting the city's place as the world's trade center were being built in the east. Perhaps the biggest impact on the growth of London was the coming of the railroad in the 1830s which displaced thousands and accelerated the expansion of the city. The price of this explosive growth and domination of world trade was untold squalor and filth.

You can read more about Dickens’ London at this excellent website, http://charlesdickenspage.com/dickens_london.html.

Chaplin barely mentions his impressions of London in his autobiography, or at least I couldn’t find any. It seems he forgot, chose to forget, or never knew.

David Robinson, in his monumental work on Chaplin, offers this about Charlie's birth, while talking about Charles Sr. and Hannah: "Charles and Hannah were not so meticulous in registering Charles's birth as Sydney's; and it has tormented historians and biograhers for decades that there is no official record of the birth of London's most famous son. .... In the early days of his cinema fame, Chaplin said that he was born at Fontainebleau, in France. This mlay have been one of the colourful stories with which Hannah seems to have endeavoured to brighten her sons' lives. Later Chaplin was certain that he was born in East Lane, Walworth, just round the corner from Sydney's birthplace in Brandon Street."  "Chaplin: His Life and Art" by Robinson

I discovered this fascinating bit of footage on YouTube, again thanks to the Dickens’ London website. It shows scenes of London in 1903. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=v-5Ts_i164c&feature=player_embedded#


My friend Carl Sturmer spends a lot of time in London. Which is terrific, because he's a big fan of Chaplin. Here are some photos he sent me a few months ago, places associated with Chaplin.

Carl's description:  "Found the Royal Theatre on Peter Street in an area of some beautiful building surely there in 1899 when Charlie toured. Short walk from my hotel. The theatre is closed up now (was a disco but lobby floor was strewn with old mail etc.) I was able to walk around the entire circumference. Looked for what would have been the stage door but couldn’t narrow it down. Doors have all been replaced with metal ones anyway. Two interesting things I noticed. Statue of Shakespeare on front of theatre matches the pose of Shakespeare statue in London’s Leicester Square directly across from Chaplin statue .  The other thing is that the building right across the street, under renovation, has a sign on it that reads Lancashire House. (as in Eight Lancashire Lads) Hmmmm!"

Carl and I had lunch at this incredible pub in New York's Greenwich Village.

The Olive Tree Cafe shows Chaplin movies from morning until night. And the food is pretty awesome too. He introduced me to it over a year ago, and I returned there with my wife and daughter last September.

The other two photos are of 19th century London, compliments of Google.
The Tower Bridge (right) was built in 1894.

Charlie and Hetty: The Story Concludes

From A Comedian Sees the World in Woman’s Home Companion (Sept. 1933), this continues from my previous post. When we last saw the infatuated Chaplin, Hetty had left her troupe and gone to the Continent. Charlie said goodbye but left us with a cliff-hanger: “...the next time we met was in a curious way.”

As Charlie tells it,

“I was crossing Piccadilly when the screech of an automobile made me turn in the direction of a black limousine which had stopped abruptly. A small gloved hand waved from the window. There must some mistake, I thought, when a voice unmistakably called, ‘Charlie!’

Piccadilly Circus, London circa 1929

“As I approached, the door of the car opened and there was Hetty beckoning me to get in. She had left the troupe and had been living on the Continent with her sister. Oh, yes, her sister had married an American multimillionaire. All this as we drove along.”

They exchange some pleasantries about how they’ve spent the past two years, and Chaplin says, “I think I shall try my luck in America.”

Hetty responds with, “Then I shall see you there.” She adds, “You know I’ve thought of you a good deal since the old days.”

We’ll never know whether or not Hetty actually said this, but if that’s what Chaplin remembered, or wished had happened, then so be it. I hope it’s true. Hetty leaves the following day for Paris and Charlie leaves for America and, eventually, Hollywood. While there, he hears that Hetty is in New York. 

“I  had arrived in New York to sign million-dollar contracts. Now is my opportunity to meet her, I thought, but somehow I cannot do it normally. I couldn’t go to her house or send a letter. I am too shy. However, I stayed on in New York hoping to meet her accidentally.”

He finds out from her brother that she has married and is living in England. Charlie immediately returns to his work in Hollywood, trying to forget her. Months later he receives a letter from her. “If you ever come to London,” she wrote, “look me up.” Which is what Chaplin does a few months later, after he completes the picture he is working on. He arrives in Southampton to a tremendous reception. Hetty’s brother, Sonny, is there on the dock, waiting for him. They climb into a carriage and head for the hotel.

“Sonny and I were alone in the carriage. I hadn’t noticed until then. There was something strange about his appearance. As usual, he avoided any mention of Hetty. There was a pause in the conversation. I looked out of the window at the revolving panorama of green fields. At last I ventured to remark: ‘Is your sister Hetty in town?’

“‘Hetty?’ he said quietly. ‘I thought you knew. She died three weeks ago.’”

“I was prepared for every disappointment but this. I felt I had been cheated out of an experience and my holiday had suddenly become aimless...My success I had looked upon as a bouquet of flowers to be addressed to someone and now the address was unknown.

“So I have made up my mind not to be disappointed this time. It is dangerous to depend too much on people. They grow up and become other persons or pass out of our lives.”

He concludes this section of his story with,

“London, I feel, will remain the same. What little change has taken place will not affect my general impression and if I can capture some fragments of my youth I shall feel simply rewarded.”

Burying flu victims in St. Louis, 1918

Some fragments he would never capture. This meeting probably took place in 1918.  Hetty had died that year as the great flu epidemic swept Europe and much of the world. Estimates on the number of victims range from 20 million to over 50 million. To close the book on this chapter of Chaplin’s life, the original theater where Charlie and Hetty first met was destroyed by one of Germany’s “flying bombs” (a V-1 or V-2) in 1944.

But Charlie would never forget Hetty Kelly.