Chaplin and Harry Crocker at the Los Angeles Tennis Club, 1933

They are probably watching the Pacific Southwest Tennis Tournament which Chaplin attended every year. This photo was perhaps taken at the same time as this one with Paulette.

If you have an extra $300 burning a hole in your pocket, you can buy the above photo on ebay right now (note: he is not at Wimbledon).

Charlie's blindfold cigarette test

This photo shoot was used to advertise Old Gold cigarettes in Judge magazine in 1928.

In the background of the above photos (L-R): Carlyle Robinson (Chaplin's press agent), Harry Crocker, and Henry Bergman.

According to the ad below: "Chaplin was asked to smoke each of the four leading brands, clearing his taste with coffee between smokes. Only one question was asked:  'Which one do you like best?' He chose Old Gold." Sez Charlie: "It was like shooting a scene successfully after a whole series of failures. It just 'clicked' and I named it as my choice. It was Old Gold...It seems Strongheart and Rin-tin-tin are the only motion picture actor stars who don’t smoke them.”

"Not a cough in a carload"

Working With Charlie Chaplin, Vol. 6: Talking Story

Chaplin holds a scenario conference at the Lone Star Studio during production of Behind The Screen, 1916.

 L-R: Eric Campbell (2nd from left), Henry Bergman (next to Campbell, partially visible), 

Frank J. Coleman, Loyal Underwood, Albert Austin (wearing boater hat), CC, Rollie Totheroh (far right).
(Source: Jeffrey Vance/Chaplin: Genius Of The Cinema)

• For story conferences on pictures preceding The Circus and City Lights, Charlie used a small frame bungalow on the far northeast cor­ner of the studio lot. Consisting of a bedroom and dressing room, a bathroom, and a small kitchen, it was secluded and quiet. Sometimes he would sit, one foot tucked under him, slashing at the leather cushion with one of his limber bamboo canes, as if in an effort to whip out an idea. Mostly, though, when he was thinking he would walk. Furiously. The room was small. Restlessly he would pace up and down like a caged animal. Sometimes he would detour through the rest of the bungalow. That he was in another room didn't stop him talking.... "Have you got that down?" Charlie would demand incessantly of Carl Robinson who, pencil in hand, had been making notes of all ideas expressed and suggestions made. He would walk up and shake an impatient finger at the sheet of paper. "Get all this down! I can't remember everything. Have you got the ring gag down? And the fruit stand? And the vegetable wagon?" Carl would nod. --Excerpt from Harry Crocker manuscript, Academy Leader, April 1972

• He came scurrying into the bungalow every morning on the dot of ten in cap, tieless shirt, white slacks and the angora sweater, sat down at the creaky little table and said, "Shall we go?"...Then we started the [Napoleon] script, and the first thing he taught me was that you don't begin at the beginning. "We look," he said, laying down the law with a firm index finger tapping the table, "for some little incident, some vignette that fixes the other characters. With them, the audience must never be in any doubt. We have to fix them on sight. Nobody cares about their troubles. They stay the same. You know them every time they appear. This is no different from the characters who surround 'the little fellow.' He's the one we develop."
Sometimes we had along Carter de Haven, whom Chaplin had hired to be assistant director on Modern Times....Almost always, except during the knottier historical sketches, there was his massive old friend, spiritual uncle and adviser, Henry Bergman, who had played in some of the early two-reelers as every sort of foil from a fat lady and a bum to a pawnshop owner. Bergman was a huge, gentle old German to whom Chaplin always referred some promising scene or gag. He said very little, but if Chaplin had doubts, in the moment of improvising, he would look over to Bergman, say, "No?" and Bergman would shake his head, and we'd forget it. --Alistair Cooke, Six Men, 1956

Still from How To Make Movies (1918).

L-R: Tom Wilson, Loyal Underwood, CC, Henry Bergman, Rollie Totheroh Jack Wilson, Edna Purviance

• The "writing" of the story is done in Charlie's room at the Athletic Club, for obvious reasons which will appear when it is related that the other night a bellboy, entering Charlie's room, found the whole crowd rehearsing a wild scene, and started to call for the police. --Grace Kingsley, "Charlie Chaplin Begins Work In New Studio," Los Angeles Times, January 20th, 1918

• A Chaplin picture conference is something that defies description. When the picture situations (they are never referred to as gags on the Chaplin lot) have been perfected in the mind of Chaplin--a long, slow process that requires from two to four years--Della [Steele] and Henry [Bergman] are then summoned to a conference in Charlie's bungalow.
About the table gather Charlie, Henry and Della and the situations are then acted out one after the other. Charlie begins by taking his own role of the little tramp, closely watching their reactions to his every move. Henry, who weighs the better part of a ton, is then called upon to play Chaplin's role, Della takes Miss [Paulette] Goddard's role of the little street waif and Charlie is the factory foreman. They go into the scene, silently moving about the room. Swiftly they change parts again. Della is Charlie the tramp. Henry is the policeman and Chaplin becomes the street waif, a look of pathetic wistfulness stealing across his face as the Chaplin features fade into some vague mist and the hungry child of the streets emerges in perfect form. Trying to hide their tears Della and Henry watch the character before them. Not Chaplin. Certainly not Chaplin. But a strange and terrified child. --Sara Hamilton, "Charles Chaplin and Charlie Chaplin," Straits Times, March 20th, 1936

• There is another story that Harry D'Arrast loves to tell as convincing proof that Charlie is an eccentric and unpredictable genius. Shooting had been suspended for a few minutes while the staff sat down to discuss a certain scene. During the discussion a fly kept buzzing around Charlie's head; he slapped at it several times, finally became annoyed, and called for a fly swatter. The swatter was obtained and Charlie took charge of it. As the discussion continued he watched the fly, waiting for an opportunity to swat it. But this was a very elusive fly. Three times Charlie swung at it and three times he missed. At last the fly settled on a table directly before him. He raised the swatter to deliver the death blow. Then he changed his mind and lowered his weapon, allowing the fly to escape.
  "Why didn't you swat it?" someone demanded.
  Charlie shrugged. "It wasn't the same fly." --Adolphe Menjou, It Took Nine Tailors, 1948

On the tennis court at Marion Davies' beach house, c. late 1920s

Familiar faces include Marion Davies, Bebe Daniels, Harry Crocker, Ralph Barton, Harry D'Arrast, and (of course) Charlie, among others.

Working With Charlie Chaplin: Vol. 1

This is a new series in which Chaplin's associates describe what it was like to work with "the little genius."¹

"Charlie has a mysterious personality, you are always trying to solve him, and you never do. He is almost feminine in his moods and the elusive quality of his personality. One morning he speaks warmly to you. The next he says nothing at all. He is an artist and temperamental.
Now Syd is more masculine. He is a great character actor. He can so change his personality in a scene that I can't recognize him. It is almost uncanny. Where Charlie's pictures are dramas, Syd's are melodramas. The two are exactly opposite, and it is the finest experience in the world working for them." --Charles "Chuck" Reisner, Los Angeles Times, Nov. 21, 1926

Shooting The Gold Rush. L-R: Harry d'Arrast, Eddie Manson, CC, Rollie Totheroh,
and Chuck Reisner.

"Working with Chaplin convinced me beyond any personal doubt that he is a genius. There's no one in Hollywood like him. In the four months I was in the picture I learned more about acting than I had during all the years I'd put in at it. Without my even realizing it at first, he started right in making me over. In the nine years I'd been carrying that old football for Paramount the one thing hammered into me was speed. Everything I did had to be quick stuff, the fly guy who was too fast for anybody to catch up with him. Chaplin changed all that. He would stop me in a scene and suggest my doing it in another way. At the moment I didn't understand what he was after. But it was clear enough when I saw it on the screen in the projection room. A glance showed me how he got his effects. Then he would say, 'All you have to do, Jack, is to take your time. If, for example, you're soaking a guy over the head with a mallet don't do it bing, bing, bing, but bing — bing — bing. That gives the audience time to laugh between each sock.' His timing is wonderful. --Jack Oakie, Hollywood magazine, August 1940

With Oakie on the set of The Great Dictator.

"All members of the cast received equal respect and attention from Chaplin, the director. In Monsieur Verdoux there was a scene with an infant-in-arms so young that, at short intervals, a different baby had to be substituted as the previous one would tire. After one take that he didn't like, Charlie came out from behind the camera, stalked up to the startled infant and scolded, 'You're anticipating again!'" --Robert Lewis, Slings & Arrows: Theater In My Life (I don't think the scene Lewis describes is in the final film.)

Chaplin as Verdoux and Robert Lewis as Maurice Botello in Monsieur Verdoux.

"Charlie gave me the biggest compliment I'd ever had. The script said that after listening to [Marlon] Brando's words I was to respond with a look, without saying a word.
'You're like an orchestra answering its conductor,' he said, almost moved. 'If I raise my hands, you go up, if I lower them, you go down....Outstanding.'
From those words, which were sewn inside me, a strong green plant grew, which continues to bear fruits today." --Sophia Loren, Yesterday, Today, Tomorrow: My Life.

Sophia and Chaplin on the set of A Countess From Hong Kong.

"Those scenes where we're playing on the street were not done at Mr. Chaplin's studio, they were done on the Paramount lot. And when we shot those scenes there was no music, so my cue was taken from Mr. Chaplin off-camera, giving me the tempo. And if you look, nobody is looking at him except me, because he is directing me on the tempo. And I can see fear in my face because I'm not a musician, but he knew that--he didn't ask me if I knew how to play the violin he didn't ask me if I knew anything about music--he just gave me the tempo. And when the picture was dubbed and the music was laid in, we were watching it in the dubbing room--and I have to tell you, when he was watching himself on screen, Mr. Chaplin never referred to himself as 'I,' he'd always say, 'Did he do that right? Was he funny?' He never said 'Did I do that right.' It was always in the third person. So anyway, we're watching the scene and he's screaming at me on the screen, 'God damn it, play faster, play faster!' And I'm sitting right next to him and he's yelling at the screen. It's because the tempo of the music he had written didn't match the tempo I was playing. I've never forgotten that: he was sitting right next to me and shouting at me on the screen! "--Julian Ludwig interview, Chaplin's Limelight & the Music Hall Tradition, Frank Scheide/Hooman Mehran, ed.

The street musicians from Limelight. Ludwig is in the middle (watching Chaplin).
With Snub Pollard (left) and Loyal Underwood.

"One of the more curious facets of my job was playing Charlie Chaplin in rehearsals. When a scene had to be set up to Chaplin 's satisfaction he would go behind the camera and call out: 'All right, let's see it!'  With the famous bat­tered derby on the top of my head--I stand an even six feet--and with the cane in my hand I would run through the actions of the scene with the other members of the cast. It was no sur­prise when Chaplin would say 'No, no, no, he wouldn't do that!' and leap in front of the camera to play the scene himself." --Harry Crocker, "A Tribute To Charlie," Academy Leader, April 1972

CC and Asst. Dir. Harry Crocker during the filming of City Lights.

"I thought he was very patient. He never lost his patience with me. But he did with Almira Sessions, the one that played the sister with the bird in her hat. 'Oh, that's him, that's really him, that's the one.' She couldn't get anything straight. He got so frustrated that he started yelling and screaming. 'Why can't you get anything straight? All you have to do is this, this and this,' and that flustered her even more. But other than that, the rest were alright." --Interview with Marilyn Nash, Limelight newsletter, Spring 1997

Lena Couvais (Almira Sessions) recognizes Verdoux in Monsieur Verdoux.

"[Charlie is] the easiest man [to work with]. He's never abusive, never impatient. I don't believe anybody else could get out of people what he does. At first they are a little overawed by such a big man. But he soon puts them thoroughly at ease. He always reassures them like this: 'I don't know much more about this than you do. Instead of telling you what to do, perhaps I can show you better.' If the player doesn't respond properly, instead of saying 'No, no, that is wrong!' he very quietly says: 'Maybe I didn't show you right. I will do it again.'" --Henry Bergman, Boston Globe, Feb. 22, 1931

CC and Henry.

"There was one scene I could not get right. It was between Charlie and me in my hotel room. Charlie tried to help me "break through," but I just couldn't make it. I don't know whether the fault was mine or the script. But Charlie understood and changed the order of the dialogue.
Shooting that scene took a whole day and afterwards I felt terrible about it. But when I tried to apologize he only laughed. 'Once with Paulette (Goddard) it took four days to get a scene right,' was his only comment." --Dawn Addams, "Leading Lady To A King," Charlie Chaplin: A Centennial Celebration, Peter Haining, ed.

Chaplin & Addams in A King in New York.

"It was funny about City Lights. We began rehearsing that water scene at night. Phew! We did it over and over and things wouldn't feel right. It wasn't until I discovered that Charlie is a southpaw that I realized what was the matter.  You may notice I'm left-handed through the picture too--when we shake hands, and during the cigar stunt. Another thing, I've been on the water wagon for years, so I guess I was picked for that role on my past performances. Gosh, the spaghetti and scrambled eggs we consumed rehearsing! But I'll say that for Charlie, he never made me begin before 1 o'clock." --Harry Myers, Los Angeles Times, Mar. 1, 1931

Harry Myers and CC in City Lights.

"[Chaplin was receptive to ideas from his associates] but our ideas had to be good and this rarely happened. Chaplin carried the ball all the time, and we were mostly used as punching bags to try ideas on. None of us yessed him, and he always listened to any criticism we might make. Later, as I got to know him better, I discovered the best criticism was silence--and being a very sensitive artist, he knew something was wrong by the expression on our faces." --Harry d'Arrast, "Chaplin's Collaborators," Films In Review, January 1962

With Harry d'Arrast

"I'm the only girl around the studio most of the time, and they treat me like a queen. Everything is always pleasant and harmonious. Mr. Chaplin is very quiet himself and dislikes any unnecessary commotion.
He writes and directs his own pictures and, I tell you, I have to be wide awake and on the alert to keep pace with him, for I never know at what instant he will think up some big scene and, when he is in the mood, he likes to work quickly and steadily. It is always interesting to watch him develop the action, for he insists that there must be a cause leading up to the fights, the runaways, or whatever it is. He acts out our parts for us, and I assure you he can play even my role better than I can, for he is a natural imitator." --Edna Purviance, Motion Picture Classic, November 1919

With Edna during the filming of A Woman Of Paris.

¹Jim Tully recalled that Chaplin was teasingly given this nickname by a few of his associates. (Pictorial Review, 1927).

Charlie & Oona aboard the Queen Elizabeth heading to England, September 19, 1952

Charlie, Oona, and their family sailed from New York on this day in 1952. On their second day at sea, Chaplin had just finished having lunch with Arthur Rubinstein and Adolph Green when Harry Crocker, his publicist, received a telegram stating that his reentry permit had been revoked. According to Green's son, the photos below were taken that very night.

L-R: Pianist Arthur Rubinstein, lyricist/playwright Adolph Green, Aniela Rubinstein, CC, Oona

L-R: CC, Harry Crocker (who was traveling with the Chaplins), Adolph Green, Oona

Gloria Swanson, Chaplin, Marion Davies, and Harry Crocker, at a party for Davies at the Ambassador Hotel, 1928

See more photos from this event here.

Rehearsing the tightrope scene in THE CIRCUS

These scenes were filmed high up in the circus tent with Chaplin suspended only a few feet above a wooden platform which is out of camera range. Assistant director Harry Crocker, who also portrays “Rex, King Of The Air" is at bottom left. Like Chaplin, he also learned to walk the tightrope for his role and claimed that in some of the scenes his legs doubled for Charlie’s when he needed a rest.

Group photo of United Artists' stars, management, and crew, c.late 1920s

Charlie is in the middle between Marion Davies and Gloria Swanson. Adolphe Menjou is at far right.

In this closeup of the above photo you can see a few more familiar faces:
Mary Pickford at far left in the second row. D.W. Griffith second from right.
 Colleen Moore in front of Griffith & Harry Crocker in the front row.

Chaplin & Napoleon

             

                                                    Chaplin in costume as Napoleon, c.1930

Chaplin had a life-long fascination with Napoleon Bonaparte and for many years considered making a film about him. When he was looking for a dramatic vehicle to launch Edna Purviance's career, one of his first thoughts was to star her as Josephine to his Napoleon. Edna was not the first of Chaplin's female friends/companions to be offered the role of the Little Corporal's wife. Among them were Lita Grey (in private, Chaplin referred to her as "My Empress Josephine"),¹ Raquel Meller, Merna Kennedy, Estelle Taylor,² and May Reeves.

Merna Kennedy wearing a Napoleon-style hat (the same one Harry Crocker is wearing below)
in a photo taken at the Chaplin Studios.

Lita Grey posing in Napoleonic jewels at an exhibition in New York City, 1932.
During her marriage to Chaplin, they attended a fancy dress party as Napoleon and Josephine.
Click here to see a photo.

During the summer of 1934, Chaplin embarked on a screenplay for the Napoleon film with with his new friend, Alistair Cooke. Many months were spent on the script, which would be based on Napoleon's experiences in St. Helena, until Chaplin suddenly declared "it's a beautiful idea, for someone else."³

               

                                                                  With Harry Crocker

Below is a home movie of Chaplin as Napoleon that was filmed by Alistair Cooke aboard Chaplin's yacht, Panacea, during the summer of 1933. Alistair Cooke describes the film in his book, Six Men:

Chaplin suddenly asked me to take some photographs, both still and in motion, of himself as Napoleon. He pulled his hair down into a ropy forelock, slipped one hand into his breast pocket, and slumped into a wistful emperor. He started to talk to himself, tossing in strange names to me--Bertrand, Montholon--and then took umbrage, flung an accusing finger at me and, having transformed his dreamy eyes into icicles, delivered a tirade against the British treatment of him on "the little island." His face was now a hewn rock of defiance. I still have it on film, and it's a chilling thing to see. 

For a more in-depth look at the Napoleon project and how it eventually morphed (somewhat) into The Great Dictator, click here to watch a 20-minute visual essay by Chaplin archivist Cecilia Cenciarelli entitled "Chaplin's Napoleon."

________________________________________________________________________________

¹Lita Grey Chaplin, My Life With Chaplin

²Movie Classic, November 1932. Additional note: Chaplin was romantically linked to Taylor during the early part of 1924. There were even rumors of an engagement, but Taylor nipped that in the bud: "No, I couldn't take that kind of punishment. I will pick my own persimmons. Charlie isn't one of them." (Adela Rogers St Johns, Love, Laughter, and Tears) 

³Alistair Cooke, Six Men

Chaplin with an impersonator in Paris, 1952

The photo is currently up for sale on ebay. The caption says: "Charlie Rivel greets Chaplin at a Paris night club in typical Chaplin makeup."

It's unlikely that the man in the photo is Charlie Rivel, who was a star in his own right at the time and, as my friend, Dominique Dugros, pointed out, "would not have been waiting for CC outside a French cabaret, just greeting him without being presented." This makes perfect sense. Thanks to Dominique for also identifying Harry Crocker in the photo.

Below are some real photos of Charlie Rivel (source: fauxcharlot.blogspot.com).
 Read more about Rivel here.

Behind-the-scenes footage of Chaplin directing City Lights

Filmed c.1929 by Chaplin's friend, Ralph Barton, this footage not only shows Chaplin directing one of his most famous and beloved films, but it also shows us a side of his personality that we don't normally see. For instance, in one scene we see him vent his frustrations on his Asst. Director Harry Crocker (who was later fired from the production), in others we see him spitting, chewing gum, and looking annoyed and preoccupied. All the while, he is dressed in his Tramp outfit, although he's not acting very Tramp-like. Additionally, there is some great footage of the Chaplin studio grounds, fellow cast and crew members, and a cute clip of Charlie clowning in front of the camera.

Random Excerpt

The following is an excerpt from "A Tribute To Charlie"¹ by Harry Crocker, Academy Leader, April 1972:

For story conferences on pictures preceding THE CIRCUS and CITY LIGHTS Charlie used a small frame bungalow on the far northeast cor­ner of the studio lot. Consisting of a bedroom and dressing room, a bathroom, and a small kitchen, it was secluded and quiet. 

The living room, in which we usually worked on the story, also served as a dining room for luncheon and occasionally, when the fires of creation were flaming high, dinner. 

Charlie believed in concentration without distraction. Thus the building had a monastic simplicity. The odds and ends which had ac­cumulated in it were quite extraordinary.

On a bird's eye maple sideboard Clare Sheri­dan's bust of Chaplin reigned over the glass­ware. When Charlie's friends and co-workers were upset at what they thought was a Chaplin obstinacy over a story problem they were ac­customed to vent their feelings by snapping their fingers under the nose of this replica dur­ing the original's momentary absence from the room.

Across the sideboard, by a swinging door leading into the kitchen, stood a nondescript bit of furniture made of a dark wood. It was never used for anything. Where it came from or what it was designed for, no one ever knew. Between it and the door was an upright chair usually occupied by Henry Bergman. 

Almost the entire, windowless, back of the room was taken up by a large divan with a worn leather cushion. Over it was the only picture in the room, an Alpine scene. 

Next to the divan was a small bookcase, most of the books being autographed gifts from the authors to Chaplin. To the left of it, near the en­trance door, stood a gilt stand with a woven metal basket containing a bunch of worn artificial roses, each blossom holding a rose colored electric bulb to its heart. This had been sent to Charlie years previously by Max Linder, the French comedian who later committed suicide.

Charlie occupied the divan when thinking. Sometimes he stretched out on it in silence for an hour or so. It would be difficult for Henry Bergman or me to tell whether he was thinking or asleep.

Sometimes he would sit, one foot tucked under him, slashing at the leather cushion with one of his limber bamboo canes, as if in an effort to whip out an idea.

Mostly, though, when he was thinking he would walk. Furiously. The room was small. Restlessly he would pace up and down like a caged animal. Sometimes he would detour through the rest of the bungalow. That he was in another room didn't stop him talking.

'Yes man,' in Hollywood, is a term of oppro­brium meaning, as it does, an employee who un­reservedly agrees with his employer. There were periods in the creation of his stories when Charlie deliberately asked us to 'yes' him, to agree, to enthuse with him. These came in the preliminary stages when he was groping for ideas. There is time later for a critical analysis of material. 

"Have you got that down?" Charlie would demand incessantly of Carl Robinson who, pencil in hand, had been making notes of all ideas expressed and suggestions made. He would walk up and shake an impatient finger at the sheet of paper. " Get all this down! I can't remember everything. Have you got the ring gag down? And the fruit stand? And the veg­etable wagon?"

Carl would nod. But Charlie is wrong when he says he cannot remember everything. He not only can, but does. His mind is an encyclo­paedia of comedy, a filing cabinet of ideas.

¹ The article "A Tribute To Charlie" is an extract from Crocker's unpublished manuscript Charlie Chaplin: Man & Mime which is part of the Harry Crocker Collection at the Margaret Herrick Library, Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences, Los Angeles, CA.

RIP Henry Bergman (February 23, 1868 – October 22, 1946)

Henry Bergman became an indispensable member of Chaplin's stock company in 1916. He adored Charlie and was a loyal and supportive friend and associate for 30 years. Chaplin repaid that loyalty by keeping Henry on his payroll until his death.

In an interview from 1931, Henry remembers how he came to work for Charlie:

I had known Mr. Chaplin personally. We used to be quite friendly at dinners, etc., and when I mentioned to him that I was looking for a job he said, "Why don't you come with me? You can work with me when I start a company of my own." That's the way it was. (Interview with Mayme Ober Peak, Boston Globe, February 22, 1931. I posted a longer excerpt from the interview here.)

Bergman was a versatile actor and would sometimes have multiple roles in one film. During filming, he was known to be just as tireless as Charlie:

For hour on hour on a sweltering August day during Shoulder Arms, Charlie forced the weighty Henry, in a full parade of German arms and uniform and sweating under a full muff (or crepe hair beard) to pursue him, disguised as a tree stump, through a eucalyptus grove. "You great fat hulk," complained the ex­hausted comedian. "Can't I wear you out?" Henry pled fatigue, but told Chaplin he was determined not to give up until Charlie did. (Harry Crocker, "Henry Bergman," Academy Leader, April 1972). 

In the 1920s, Bergman opened a popular Hollywood restaurant called Henry’s (possibly financed, or co-financed, by Chaplin). Henry would often go from table to table talking with customers, with his ever-present cigar dangling from his mouth. Charlie, who was fascinated by the success of the restaurant, was a regular customer. His favorite dishes were the lentil soup and coleslaw.

One of the last photos of Henry was taken on the set of Monsieur Verdoux. He did not have a role in the film and died from a heart attack shortly after shooting had begun.

Cameraman Rollie Totheroh is between Bergman and Chaplin. Associate Director Robert Florey is on the left of Bergman and Charlie’s half-brother Wheeler Dryden is behind Florey. 

Chaplin & crew on the set of City Lights, 1929

From left: publicist Carlyle Robinson, studio manager, Alf Reeves, assistant director, Henry Bergman, CC, cameramen: Mark Marlatt, Rollie Totheroh & Eddie Gheller (?), Henry Clive, seated, originally played the millionaire but was later fired, and assistant director, Harry Crocker, far right, who was also eventually fired from the production.

Hollywood party at Hamanoya restaurant in Little Tokyo, 1929

Besides Charlie (in center with his arm around another man), other familiar faces in the photo include King Vidor, second row, second from right, Irving Thalberg, on Charlie's right, Harry Crocker, same row, second from left, and Georgia Hale, front row, wearing a light-colored sleeveless dress & holding an instrument. In her book, Charlie Chaplin: Intimate Close-ups, she recalled being invited by Chaplin to a party that was arranged by Toraichi Kono (far left) in the Japanese section of Los Angeles. This was her first date with Charlie.

"We went to a most unusual party It had been arranged by Kono, his Japanese valet. He had prepared a most sumptuous feast and show...all Japanese...in the Japanese part of town. Many notables of movieland were invited."

According to Kono himself, as per Charlie Chaplin: King Of Tragedy by Gerith Von Ulm, the party was given by the Japanese businessmen of Los Angeles to show their appreciation for Chaplin's promotion of the Kengeki (Japanese sword plays). Kono recalled that 300 guests assembled to pay their respects. The cafe was lavishly decorated with synthetic cherry blossoms. An elaborate meal was served and they were entertained by dancers recruited from local Japanese theaters.

From Charlie Chaplin: King of Tragedy by Gerith Von Ulm

Premiere of THE CIRCUS Party for Marion Davies, 1928

The above photo is often incorrectly labeled as having been taken at the premiere of either The Circus or City Lights. However it was actually taken at a welcome home party that was given for Marion Davies at the Ambassador Hotel following her return from Europe in October 1928.

Below is a group photo from the same event. Original photograph caption dated October 31,1928 reads: "Photo shows a distinguished group of filmland notables at a welcome party honoring Marion Davies, famous star just returned from a three-month trip abroad. Standing, left to right, Lorraine Eddy, Matt Moore, Aileen Pringle, Louis B. Mayer, Gloria Swanson, Harry d'Arrast, Miss Davies, Louella O. Parsons, Ricardo Cortez, Charlie Chaplin, Norma Shearer, Irving G. Thalberg, Harold Lloyd and Robert Z. Leonard. Seated in foreground are Harry Crocker, left, and William Haines. The French room of the Ambassador was transformed into likeness of a Parisian cafe for the surprise party greeting Miss Davies." (Los Angeles Herald-Examiner Collection)

Charlie & Paulette at a tennis tournament, Sept. 1933

The man sitting behind them is Charlie's friend, Harry Crocker, who is best remembered for playing Rex, the tightrope walker, in The Circus.