My Autobiography Charles Chaplin (best books to read ever TXT) 📖

of some magnitude, she could not match the box-office receipts of Mary or Douglas. We had already refused to give Adolph Zukor stock in our company, so why give it to Joe Schenck, who was not as important as Zukor? Nevertheless, Douglas and Mary’s enthusiasm won the day, and Joe became president and an equal stockholder in United Artists.

Shortly after, I received an urgent letter requiring my presence at a meeting concerning the future of United Artists. After the formal and optimistic remarks of our president, Mary solemnly addressed us. She said that she was alarmed at what was going on in the industry – she was always alarmed – theatre circuits were merging, and, unless we took measures to counteract these moves, the future of United Artists would be in jeopardy.

This pronouncement did not bother me, because I believed that the excellence of our films was the answer to all such competition. But the others would not be reassured. Joe Schenck warned us gravely that, although the company was fundamentally healthy, we should insure our future by not taking all the risks ourselves, but letting others participate a little in our profits. He had approached Dillon Read and Company of Wall Street, who were willing to put up $40,000,000 for an issue of stock and an interest in our company. I said frankly that I was opposed to Wall Street having anything to do with my work, and again contended that we had nothing to fear from mergers as long as we made good pictures. Joe, repressing his irritation, said in a calm, lofty way that he was trying to do something constructive for the company and that we should take advantage of it.

Mary again took over. She had a reproving way of talking business, addressing me not directly but through the others, that made me feel guilty of gross selfishness. She extolled the virtues of Joe, stressing how hard he had worked and to what trouble he had gone in building up our company. ‘We must all try to be constructive,’ she said.

But I was adamant, maintaining that I did not want anyone else participating in my personal efforts; I was confident and willing to invest my own money in those efforts. The meeting developed into a heated discussion – more heat than discussion – but I stood my ground, saying that if the rest wished to go ahead without me, they could do so and I would retire from the company. This brought about a solemn avowal of loyalty among us all, and an affirmation from Joe that he did not wish to do anything that would disrupt our friendship or the harmony of our company. And so the matter of Wall Street was dropped.

*

Before starting on my first picture for United Artists, I intended launching Edna Purviance in a star role. Although Edna and I were emotionally estranged, I was still interested in her career. But, looking objectively at Edna, I realized she was growing rather matronly, which would not be suitable for the feminine confection necessary for my future pictures. Besides, I did not wish to confine my ideas and characters to the limits of a comedy stock company, for I had vague, ambitious ideas about feature comedies which would require more general casting.

For months I had toyed with the idea of doing The Trojan Women with Edna, using my own adaptation of it. But the more research we did, the more it developed into an expensive production, so the idea was abandoned.

Then I began to think of other interesting women that Edna might portray. Of course, Josephine! The fact that it would involve period costumes and cost twice as much as The Trojan Women was of little consequence. I was enthusiastic.

We began extensive research, reading Bourrienne’s Memoirs of Napoleon Bonaparte and the Memoirs of Constant, Napoleon’s valet. But the further we delved into the life of Josephine, the more Napoleon got in the way. So fascinated was I with this flamboyant genius that a film about Josephine ended in a pale cast of thought, and Napoleon loomed up as a part I might play myself. The film would be a record of his Italian campaign: an epic story of the will and courage of a young man of twenty-six, overcoming stupendous opposition and the jealousies of old, experienced generals. But, alas, my enthusiasm subsided and so the enterprise of both Napoleon and Josephine went away.

About this time Peggy Hopkins Joyce, the celebrated matrimonial beauty, appeared on the Hollywood scene, bedecked in jewels and with a collected bank-roll of three million dollars from her five husbands – so she told me. Peggy was of humble origin: a barber’s daughter who became a Ziegfeld chorus girl and had married five millionaires. Although Peggy was still a beauty, she was a little tired-looking. She came direct from Paris, attractively gowned in black, for a young man had recently committed suicide over her. In this funereal chic, she invaded Hollywood.

During a quiet dinner together, she confided to me that she hated notoriety. ‘All I want is to marry and have babies. At heart I’m a simple woman,’ she said, adjusting the twenty-carat diamond and emerald bracelets that mounted up her arm. When not in a serious mood, Peggy referred to them as ‘my service stripes’.

Of one husband, she said that on her bridal night she had locked herself in her bedroom and would not let him in unless he put a $500,000 cheque under the door.

‘And did he?’ I asked.

‘Yes,’ she said petulantly and not without humour, ‘and I cashed it the first thing in the morning before he was awake. But he was a fool and drank a lot. Once I hit him over the head with a bottle of champagne and sent him to the hospital.’

‘And that’s how you parted?’

‘No,’ she laughed, ‘he seemed to like it, and was even more crazy about me.’

Thomas Ince invited us on to his yacht. There were just three of