Lita Grey, along with Chaplin & his entourage, at her contract signing to be leading lady in The Gold Rush, March 1924

From left: Chaplin’s publicist Eddie Manson, Lillian Spicer (Lita’s mother), Asst Dir. Chuck Reisner, CC, publicist Jim Tully, Lita, Henry Bergman, Asst. Dir. Eddie Sutherland, and studio manager Alf Reeves.

In his 1927 biography of Chaplin, Jim Tully recalled how Lita got the part:

Chaplin's selection of Lita Grey to play the role of the leading lady in "The Gold Rush" was quite romantic. Many young women of great beauty had applied for the position. Charlie, never quite certain as to which type he wanted, found his selection almost hopeless until the young schoolgirl appeared at the studio. She had played with Charlie in "The Kid," and hence was given a "screen-test" to see whether she photographed well or otherwise. 

A day after Miss Grey appeared at the studio her picture was flashed in the projection room. Chaplin was in a particularly happy mood that morning. 

After the rushes and screen-tests had been viewed Charlie walked with me to my office. Lita Grey followed us. She stood in the middle of the room saying, "What's it to be, Charlie--Mister Man?"

Charlie looked at her for a moment and said boyishly, "You're engaged."

The young girl, not yet sixteen, jumped up and down with joy. Had she been able to read the future she might have jumped over the moon, for within a short time Lita became not only leading woman for the most famous man in the world but also his wife. (Jim Tully, "Charlie Chaplin: His Real Life Story" Pictorial Review, February 1927)

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"

THE RINK, released December 4th, 1916

The Rink was Chaplin's 8th film for Mutual & the first to display his rollerskating prowess, skills he had doubtlessly developed in the c.1909 Fred Karno sketch, Skating, which was co-written by Syd Chaplin (both brothers performed the sketch for different Karno touring companies). He employed another skating routine twenty years later in Modern Times, which revives some of the restaurant gags in The Rink as well.

Not surprisingly, others in the cast, who may not have been as comfortable on skates as Chaplin, were black and blue during rehearsals:

Charles Spencer Chaplin and Mutual players have begun the filming of a rollerskating rink story. The script provides that each one of the troop shall become proficient in the art of retaining their equilibrium, and the stage at the studio has been the scene of many tumbles that will not appear on the screen. Eric Campbell, the six-foot-two heavyweight, is reported to have ruined one section of the flooring, and other members are nursing bruises which in some instances require meals served from the mantelpiece. General Manager H. P. Caulfield is putting in all his time preventing the artists from completely destroying the plant. (Motion Picture News, December 9th, 1916)

To give an idea of The Rink's popularity with audiences, here is a clipping from a 1917 issue of Motography. It's hard to tell if the owner of the theater was being serious:

A few favorite scenes:

This was Henry Bergman's first appearance in drag in a Chaplin film. 

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).

A DOG'S LIFE

Released April 14th, 1918, this was Chaplin's first "million dollar comedy" for First National and the first film he made in his newly built studio in Hollywood.

"Scraps--A Thoroughbred Mongrel." His real name was Mut (or Mutt). The story goes
that when Charlie left for a Liberty Bond tour shortly after filming was completed, Mut,
who had become very attached to him, died of "a broken heart."
 He was buried on the studio grounds.

This was the first of Charlie's film to feature his brother, Sydney,
 who had already made several successful films for Keystone including
the "Gussle" films and The Submarine Pirate.

Syd's first wife, Minnie, (far left) appears in the dancehall scenes usually dancing with
Albert Austin (with mustache) who is getting ready to cut in on Minnie
and her dance partner in this scene.

The dance hall drummer (Chuck Reisner) thinks Charlie has a tail.
 This was Reisner's first film with Chaplin.

"A new singer sings an old song"

...and makes everyone cry

including Henry Bergman, dressed as a woman, and Loyal Underwood.

Edna's singing inspires the bartender, played by Andy Anderson,
 to put back the money he stole from the cash register.
 Anderson later became the skipper of Chaplin's yacht, Panacea. 

 This was also the first film in which Granville Redmond appears.
Redmond was a deaf painter who kept a studio on Chaplin's lot. 

"I'm flirting"

Poor Mut was plied with alcohol for this scene. 

"Hellooo"

Roscoe Arbuckle visits the Lone Star Studio, 1916

Judging from the costumes, Chaplin was filming Behind The Screen. Henry Bergman is between Chaplin and Arbuckle. Eric Campbell is at left. Everyone appears to be checking out Arbuckle's fancy car.

Photo from Chaplin's Schatten by Fritz Hirzel (1982), credited to MOMA, NYC.
 Courtesy of Dominique Dugros.

Random Excerpt

Journalist Sara Hamilton describes a day on the Chaplin lot during the filming of Modern Times:

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 they gather--and the situations are acted out one after the other. Charlie begins by taking his own role as 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; Charlie is the factory foreman. Then swiftly they change parts again. Della is Charlie, the tramp; Henry is a policeman and Chaplin becomes the street waif. 

Henry Bergman and Della Steele, c.1935. ©Roy Export S.A.S.

It was his untiring striving for perfection in performance and his gentle patience with the clumsiest performer that impressed a titled visitor (and visitors are rare) at the Chaplin lot recently.  Rehearsals began at ten that morning with extras and bit players ready and waiting. Then began one of the strangest phenomena every witnessed. Chaplin directing his own picture. In explaining the action to the owner of the delicatessen shop, Charlie became the character. In some manner he took on enormous proportions, his face rounded, his hands grew massive and clumsy as the tramp faded in the background. 

In a flash he became the policeman, growing in stature before the eyes as he strutted, stormed and threatened. Then on to Miss Goddard's role. Prone on the sidewalk he wept, cried out in childish despair, "I didn't, please, please, I didn't steal the ham. Oh please, I didn't, Mister. Honest, I didn't." The voice, not Chaplin's, but the voice of the frightened waif--wept and cried and pleaded from the sidewalk. Now, in a flash, he was an extra tramp, weaving his gentle way in perfect rhythm in and out among the characters.  

Directing Paulette Goddard. ©Roy Export S.A.S.

From ten till four it went on without a moment's pause. And then, with the perspiration dripping down his face, he humbly thanked them all and with an apology for having carried them past the lunch hour, staggered off, tired and weary, to his little bungalow, his cane flipping a feeble staccato as he went. 

There is little boisterousness around the Chaplin studio. The Chaplinites feel that unwarranted noise or crude language might offend "him." "Him" in case you haven't guessed, is the little tramp, the tattered ragamuffin, the gallant little gentleman with his absurdly defiant elegance who picks his teeth with such delightful savoir faire and belches with such charming daintiness. 

To them this pathetic little creature who once, long ago, sprang from the forehead of Charles Spencer Chaplin, is a definite personality. He lives, he breathes, he thinks, he walks his troubled way alone. His name to all of them, is just "he."

In the midst of some hilarious bit of tragedy in which "he" finds himself involved on the set, Chaplin will figuratively stand aside and contemplate his little friend with an amused chuckle and a knowing wink that seems to say, "our little friend got himself into a fine pickle that time, didn't he?"

So it was when they showed Charlie the sweater knit by the loving hands of some dear old lady and sent over to the Chaplin studio with a note explaining it was for the little tramp when the wind blew cold. Chaplin's eyes grew misty as he said, "Write and thank her and tell her not to worry. "I'll always take care of 'him.'"

--Sara Hamilton, "The New Charlie Chaplin," Baltimore Sun, September 1, 1935 

After an absence of eight months, Chaplin returns to Los Angeles to face his divorce from Lita Grey, mid-August, 1927

Chaplin with his attorney, Gavin McNab, August 1927

Chaplin had been in New York since Lita filed her complaint for divorce in mid-January. Before heading to Los Angeles, he spent a couple of days relaxing with his attorney, Nathan Burkan, and a friend in Del Monte, CA. The divorce was set to go to trial on August 22nd* and although he spent most of his first day home in seclusion at his brother Syd's house, that evening he emerged with Henry Bergman and drove to his home on Summit Drive to see his sons, Charlie, Jr. and Sydney. Lita, her mother, and the boys had been occupying the house for the last several months under a court order. Charlie and Lita "exchanged greetings and hoped that the other was feeling well."¹ Then while Lita and her mother stood in the background, Chaplin "sought out his two babies and spent the better part of a half hour caressing and playing with them."² Before he left, Lita told him that her front door was open to him anytime he wanted to visit his children.

By himself--with and without his hat, August 1927

Later that day Chaplin visited his studio but according to Bergman, he kept to himself most of the time. "He is hopeless and doesn't want company. He is not avoiding anyone but he would rather be by himself." Charlie visited Henry's restaurant on Hollywood Blvd twice and there "nodded carelessly to friends and acquaintences." When he did not return home Syd's house that evening it was thought that he was likely out driving by himself.<sup>3

_____________________________________________________________________________________________

*</sup>A settlement would be reached by the 19th and the divorce granted on the 22nd.
¹New York Times, August 18, 1927
²Los Angeles Times, August 17, 1927
³ibid.

CITY LIGHTS set visit

Charlie is at far right. Other familiar faces include: Henry Bergman (far left, in the back), Virginia Cherrill, Douglas Fairbanks, & Toraichi Kono (behind Doug). That might be Alf Reeves behind Charlie (in the hat) but it's hard to tell.

Photo credit: Charles Chaplin In Japan by Ono Hiroyuki

Henry Bergman and continuity secretary, Della Steele, on the set of MODERN TIMES

Outtake from The Idle Class

Below are stills (or on set images) from a bowling alley sequence that was filmed (supposedly) for The Idle Class but never used.

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.