Charlie Chaplin (1951)

cc 140 England. Amiable cousin Aubrey, who now operated a saloon, had not seen Charlie in ten years and was surprised how American he had become. To compensate for the smaller than expected crowd at Southampton, the crowds welcoming him to London surpassed all expectations. He was literally extracted from the train and carried on people's shoulders to a car amid ringing cries: "There he is!" "Good luck, Charlie!" "Well done, Charlie!" "God love you!" The police could not handle them and Chaplin feared people would be trampled or run over as he was driven to the Ritz. Placards announced "Charlie Arrives," and crowds lined the streets all the way to the hotel. It was indeed a triumphal return. Somehow he was lifted and projected into the hotel, from a balcony of which he threw down roses until the police requested him to stop as a precaution against accidents. Chaplin later declared: "Thinking over what I have done, it has not been very much. Nothing to call forth all this. 'Shoulder Arms' was pretty good, perhaps, but all this clamor over a moving-picture actor!" As soon as it became possible Chaplin used the back doors to begin a visit to his childhood haunts alone. A taxi took him to Kennington where he got out for a stroll that ended in Lambeth Walk. There he was recognized; a crowd collected; and he had to have the help of a policeman to extricate himself. Chaplin was buried under mountains of mail (73,000 letters in three days). They included invitations, requests for money, and vilifications and threats because he had not served in the war. Six secretaries had to be hired to handle it. During a thunderstorm Chaplin, attending a party at Knoblock's suite in the Albany, played a grisly joke. Knoblock had observed that this was the apex of Chaplin's career. Tom Geraghty, whose drinks had put him in a maudlin mood, agreed that it would be impossible to at