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

drew away from the crowd, I became more eloquent and dramatic, my confidence growing as the crowd grew smaller and smaller.

In Washington we paraded through the streets like potentates, arriving at the football field where we were to give our initial address.

The speakers’ platform was made of crude boards with flags and bunting around it. Among the representatives of the Army and Navy standing about was one tall, handsome young man who stood beside me, and we made conversation. I told him that I had never spoken before and was very anxious about it. ‘There’s nothing to be scared about,’ he said confidently. ‘Just give it to them from the shoulder; tell them to buy their Liberty Bonds; don’t try to be funny.’

‘Don’t worry!’ I said ironically.

Very soon I heard my introduction, so I bounded on to the platform in Fairbanksian style and without a pause let fly a verbal machine-gun barrage, hardly taking a breath: ‘The Germans are at your door! We’ve got to stop them! And we will stop them if you buy Liberty Bonds! Remember, each bond you buy will save a soldier’s life – a mother’s son! – will bring this war to an early victory!’ I spoke so rapidly and excitedly that I slipped off the platform, grabbed Marie Dressler and fell with her on top of my handsome young friend, who happened to be the then Assistant Secretary of the Navy, Franklin D. Roosevelt.

After the official ceremony, we were scheduled to meet President Wilson at the White House. Thrilled and excited, we were ushered into the Green Room. Suddenly the door opened and a secretary appeared and said briskly: ‘Stand in a line, please, and all come one pace forward.’ Then the President entered.

Mary Pickford took the initiative. ‘The public’s interest was most gratifying, Mr President, and I am sure the bond drive will go over the top.’

‘It certainly was and will…’ I butted in, completely confused.

The President glanced at me incredulously, then told a senatorial joke about a Cabinet Minister who liked his whisky. We all laughed politely, then left.

Douglas and Mary chose the northern states for their bond-selling tour and I the southern, as I had never been there. I invited a friend of mine from Los Angeles, Rob Wagner, a portrait painter and writer, to come along as my guest. The ballyhoo was enterprising and handled expertly and I sold millions of dollars’ worth of bonds.

In one North Carolina city, the head of the reception committee was the big business man of the town. He confessed that he had had ten boys at the station with custard pies ready to throw at me, but seeing our serious entourage as we got off the train, he had thought better of it.

The same gentleman invited us to dinner, and several United States generals were there, including General Scott, who evidently disliked him. Said he during dinner: ‘What’s the difference between our host and a banana?’ There was a slight tension. ‘Well, you can skin a banana.’

As for the legend of the Southern gentleman, I met the perfect one in Augusta, Georgia – Judge Henshaw, head of the Bond Committee. We received a letter from him stating that, as we were to be in Augusta on my birthday, he had arranged a party for me at the country club. I had visions of being the centre of a large gathering with a lot of small talk, and, as I was exhausted, I made up my mind to refuse and to go straight to the hotel.

Usually when we arrived at a station there was an enormous crowd to greet us with the local brass-bands playing. But in Augusta there was no one but Judge Henshaw dressed in a black pongee coat and an old, sun-tanned panama hat. He was quiet and courteous, and after introducing himself he drove with Rob and me to the hotel in an old horse-drawn landau.

For a while we drove in silence. Suddenly the Judge broke it: ‘What I like about your comedy is your knowledge of fundamentals – you know that the most undignified part of a man’s anatomy is his arse, and your comedies prove it. When you kick a portly gentleman there, you strip him of all his dignity. Even the impressiveness of a presidential inauguration would collapse if you came up behind the President and kicked him in the rear.’ As we drove along in the sunlight, he tilted his head whimsically, soliloquizing to himself, ‘There’s no doubt about it; the arse is the seat of self-consciousness.’

I nudged Rob and whispered: ‘The birthday party’s on.’

It took place on the same day as the meeting. Henshaw had invited only three other friends, and he apologized for the smallness of the party, saying that he was selfish and wanted to enjoy us exclusively.

The golf club was in a beautiful setting. Shadows of tall trees across the green lawn gave the scene a quiet elegance as we sat on the terrace, six of us, at a round table surrounding a candle-lit birthday cake.

As the Judge nibbled at a piece of celery, his eyes twinkling, he cast a look at Rob and me. ‘I don’t know whether you’ll sell many bonds in Augusta… I’m not very good at arranging things. However, I think the townsfolk know you’re here.’

I began extolling the beauty of the surroundings. ‘Yes,’ he said,’there’s only one thing missing – a mint julep.’

This brought us to the subject of the possibility of Prohibition, its evils and its benefits. ‘According to medical reports,’ said Rob, ‘Prohibition will have a salutary effect on the public’s health. The medical journals state that there will be fewer ulcerated stomachs if we stop drinking whisky.’

The Judge assumed a hurt expression. ‘You don’t talk of whisky in terms of the stomach; whisky is food for the soul!’ Then he turned to me. ‘Charlie, this is your twenty-ninth birthday and you’re not married yet?’

‘No,’ I laughed. ‘Are you?’

‘No,’ he sighed wistfully. ‘I’ve listened to too