Modern Times 1935 1936 1937 next previous
Modern Times Clippings 352/382
Grace Simpson, Motion Picture, New York, May 1936.
Allen‘s Dominion (before Empress), exterior by day,
neon sign „Musical Comedy & Quality Pictures,“ Winnipeg,
Canada, undated
& Dominion (Empress) Theatre, exterior by day,
Winnipeg, Canada, undated, postcard
& Dominion, The Home of John Holden Players, exterior by day, Winnipeg, Canada, undated
& Groucho Marx, Charlie Chaplin
(...) Photo, Motion Picture, May 1936
„People became hysterical“
Editorial content. „Groucho looks at Charlie
The maddest Marx recalls the day when he ,discovered‘
the genius in Chaplin
By Grace Simpson
Charlie Chaplin‘s latest picture, Modern Times strikes
a new note in screen humor. Its theme concerns the
career of a little tramp caught in the mechanism of factory routine.
It‘s a real treat!
The country is becoming Chaplin conscious all over again.
It‘s remarkable how Chaplin has lasted, as an actor, all
these years. You know him as he is today, but did you know
him as he was yesterday? Let us draw aside the curtain
of the past and see him as he really was ,yesterday‘, struggling
along as best he could, trying desperately to get
a foothold on the ladder of success. Let‘s turn back the
clock of time.
It was snowing in Winnipeg, Canada. In a dusty corner
of the depot, a tattered vaudeville troupe huddled
around a glowing stove. One hour till train time. And then
back on the road. That was the routine.
With a chilly gust and a flurry of snowflakes, the door rattled
on its hinges. The trained animal act shivered. A lifting
of eyebrows censored the invader from a frigid world without.
The newcomer Groucho Marx, slammed the door shut,
stamped his feet, then smiled around at the crowd. Despite the
ill protection afforded by a threadbare overcoat, he felt
very little cold. Excitement warmed him.
He flexed the bamboo cane in his hand. A bit of soot from
the chimney sufficed for a mustache. He rumpled his
hair. He spread his feet fan-wise. Then, with the strange laugh,
he put on a hasty little act.
But no one laughed. As a matter of fact, no one paid
any attention. This peeved him a little. ,Look,‘ he cried suddenly,
,I just saw the greatest fellow I‘ve ever seen on the stage
in all my born days!‘ But who cared what a little known comedian
like Groucho Marx thought about actors – or thought
about anybody for that matter.
And who ever heard about the comic that he was talking
about. That strange, wistful creature who always wore
a big, black, flowing necktie, because his shirt was often dirty,
and he only had one.
His name? Oh, yes, Charlie Chaplin!
,They evidently thought I was crazy,‘ said Groucho, recently,
smiling. ,I said then he was the greatest fellow on the stage.
I know now there will never be anyone like him. He‘s in a class all
by himself, just as he has always been.‘
It‘s usually pleasant to visit at Groucho‘s big house,
especially if brothers Harpo and Chico are there. You come
away with your sides actually strained from laughter!
It‘s a tonic, nothing less.
But this particular evening was somehow quite different.
The lights were very low. A fire crackled cheerily in the hearth.
Groucho watched the flickering shadows on the knotty
pine walls and spanned unnumbered years to introduce the
comedian with the threadbare overcoat. And the comic
with the dirty shirt.
The fire lost its warmth. I shivered, too. Then I heard
Groucho‘s voice breaking the silence, speaking about the first
Chaplin show that he‘d seen.
,I was on the Pantages Circuit, the last act on the bill,
doing four shows a day, rain or shine,‘ he began. ,There was
a three-hour lay-over in Winnipeg before jumping to the
Coast. As a rule, I made a bee-line for the pool room. It was
generally warmer. This particular night, I was feeling
rather blue and, besides, I had a headache. I decided on the spur
of the moment to take in a show. I had a friend playing
on the Sullivan-Considine Circuit. Considine was the father
of the present Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer producer,
John W. Considine, Jr.
,Well, sir, at this show, the audience was roaring
with laughter. I looked at the stage and saw Chaplin for the
first time. I had never heard people laugh quite like that.
I began to laugh, too. Soon my polite laughter had turned to an
impolite howl! The little comic‘s act was called A Night
at the Club; it was supposed to be an English social club – and
what a one, too, I might add! Chaplin sat at a small table
and ate soda crackers, one after another. A woman up front
was singing all the while, but nobody heard a single
note, I‘m sure. They were too intent on Chaplin‘s every move.
A fine stream of cracker dust was slowly coming
out of his mouth. He kept that up for exactly fifteen minutes.
,At the table was a large basket of oranges. Finally,
he started to pick up the oranges, one by one, and threw them
right at the woman. One of them knocked the pianist
off his chair. People became hysterical. There never was
such continuous laughter. He was the same Chaplin
then as he is now,‘ Groucho concludes simply.
Groucho sought Chaplin out that night. He told him
how impressed he was – how the act had him right out of his
seat in stitches. They became friends. The two circuits
made the same towns.
Finally, the two actors landed in Los Angeles, land of hope
and dreams.
,One day, shortly afterwards, Chaplin called me up,‘
continued Groucho. ,He had been offered $100
a week to go with Keystone. ,What‘s the matter,‘ I said,
,isn‘t it enough?‘ Chaplin was then getting about
$35 a week. ,You‘re durned right it‘s enough,‘ he replied
with a chuckle. ,It‘s much too much, in fact. I can‘t
be worth $100 a week. I‘ve got it all figured out that these
studio guys must be crazy and who wants to work
for a bunch of loonies?‘
,O shucks, go ahead and take it!‘ I told him. ,You‘ll
never get another offer as good as that!‘ How wrong I was!
Well, Charlie finally accepted the motion picture offer.
And, shortly thereafter, I had to go East. A couple of years later, Chaplin began to appear with the famed Keystone
cops. When I returned to Los Angeles, he was getting $500
a week. I was amazed. He was amazed, too, but
seemed remarkably happy.
,Five years elapsed before I saw him again. I gave him
a call and he invited me to his new home. It was
gorgeous, magnificent. A stately English butler served.
The plates were solid gold!
,It‘s an amazing world. When I first met Charlie Chaplin,
we often borrowed nickels and dimes from one another.
We regularly shot craps together. And the stakes were a penny
and the fellow who won as much as fifty cents was
considered quite a financier. The loser of such a snug little
sum tightened his belt for breakfast. It‘s a little
frightening the way those years, that seem but yesterday, have
passed,‘ Groucho added.“ (...)
Groucho Marx meets Charles Chaplin
when Karno‘s Company is on tour showing
A Night in a London Club
at Empress Theatre, Winnipeg, Canada,
in the week beginning with
Aug. 4, 1913.
Redaktioneller Inhalt
Modern Times 1935 1936 1937 next previous
