CHARLIE CHAPLIN AND HIS FUNNY LITTLE WAYS.

Pukekohe & Waiuku Times, Volume 4, Issue 107, 12 November 1915, Page 1 (Supplement)

CHARLIE CHAPLIN AND HIS FUNNY LITTLE WAYS.

THE "PET" OF THE PICTURE SHOWS. Who is the most popular man in tlio world? One naturally starts passing in renew kings, princes, presidents, statesmen, soldiers, and sailors, in an endeavour to answer the question. I>ut there is no necessity to do so. Go to any picture palace, and there he is— Charlie Chaplin—the man who two two years ago was an unknown member of a troupe of music-hall knockabout comedians, but who to-day is earning the respectable income of £SOO a week and gladdening the hearts of 12,000,000 people every day. KING OF THE "MOVIE" WORLD. These are the days of sudden crazes, but there lias been nothing to equal the craze for Charlie Chaplin on both sides of th« Atlantic. The late lamented John Bunny only touched the fringe of popularity as compared with Charlie. He is the king of the "movie" world, whose quaint figure and antic 6 tickled America even more than England. There they now have Chaplin tics and Chaplin shirts; Chaplin oocktails and Chaplin yachts; Chaplin clubs and Chaplin societies. Picture postcards and statuettes of him are sold by the million. HIS GREATEST ASSETS. The 6on of an old-time variety

artiste, Charlie, as a boy, lwd a distinct ucsiro to loilow 111 Ins tatiicr 's Jootsteps. "And my dad was just uc> keen to help nit 1 ," lie says. So when i. attained tlie r.pu and precocious age of eleven 1 was introduced to the man- | ager 01 a troupe ot (lancers known as 'liio Eight Lancashire Lads.' wita j wiioin 1 soon learned the meaning ol ■ true woru. It was not usual, however, lor us to go round to the manage :'s cur to carry away our weekly salary. The smallest of my pockets was quite largo enough lor the purpose.'' His extraordinary feet and legs, wh eli seem to be made ot indiarubbei, are among Charlie's greatest assets. SETTING THE FASHIONS. "I'm proud of my feet, although they are not exactly pretty. 1 once overheard two nice girls disc tiding me. 'He's not bad-looking, but he's got such shocking feet,' ttiey said. 'From a distance they look like tramears chasing one another up a h 11, and in a room would hide all the rest of the furniture." '■ Very rude remarks, too, have been made about my dress. I'll admit there is not much danger of me being tauen for Gilbert the Filbert or the ivniu. Knut, while I have heard that tailors have collapsed through the shock ol seeing my rig-out. But 1 pride myself that there are no clothes'like mine in the world- What is more, nobody goes to greater trouble than myself in trying to set the fashions. "Indeed, I took so much trouble on ono occasion that 1 nearly got locked up. I had simply been making a tour of the old-clothes shops, looking for something fresh and chic, to be used in ono of my plays. A constable chanced to see me dodging in and out and stopped mo. With the utmost dignity 1 could command I told him I was Charlie Chaplin. 'Tell that to tlie ma'rines,' he said, and hauled me along to the police-station like tome small bov caught stealing plums. And not until 1 had telephoned fo some friends to identify me, was 1 released." "THE GIDDY GOAT." That Charlie Chaplain was a horn cinema Fetor was proved long before he a pea red on the screen. I'or, when appearing ill Mr. I'red Karno's sketch, "Th» Mumming Birds," he kept the house in roars of laughter with hie antics, although he never uttered a word. As he himself says: — "I simply played the giddy goat, doing all sort of acrobatic performance on my own 'n a htage box. I had to he funny and still keep my tongue between my teeth. I suppose it was this which first gave rise to the absurd rumour that T was deaf and dumb. At first f couldn't understand the rumour, and then suddenly about l a.m. one morning it dawned on uie. (N'o .ioke intended.)

i FALLING FOR A LIVING. "Acting for the cinema, however, is ont all beer and skittles. I remember that in one of the first picture plays in which I appeared, I had to carry a scuttle of coals up a ladder. 1 looked at the coals and then at the ladder, which had enough grease on it to keep n Canadian Pacific express going. 'Well,' I said to myself, 'lf I do tin* 1 greasy pole business with any degree ji accuracy I shall wake up in the hospital.' But the money was there. Charlie,' I said, 'it's got to be done,' and when I had finished I had a swell limp, a real attack of backacho and a beautiful collection of bruises. 'Charlie,' said the manager, 'that was a lovely fall; keep on falling.' And 1 am still falling for a living. "But I am getting used to that 6ort of thing now. To walk along a greasy pole carrying a bucket of whitewash and at the end of my journey, having tipped my load on to my 'hated' rival's head, to fall back, say, into a well or a horse trough, is as easy as shelling peas. WANTS TO PLAY HAMLET. "But, alas! wluit is fame? We arc never satisfied, and I shall not be until I have realised my great ambit'on and played Hamlet. I said to a manager the other day. 'I want to make audiences thr-r-ill. I want to lift them up like Treo, Forbes-Bobertson, and Martin Harvey. I want to hold the serious people in the hollow of my hand.' 'Let's have a smoke and drink, Charge,' he said, gently; 'you'll feel better then.' "It's a hard, cold world."