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of a hundred and fifty thousand dollars. When he and Syd left the Mutual offices the day the contract was signed, Charlie was so dazed with awe and unbelief that he kept fingering the cheque for a hundred and fifty thousand dollars, as if to make sure that it really existed. "Let's celebrate! Oh boy! Let's celebrate! There's this, Syd— if they never give me another penny. I'm safe now ! "
Then he halted suddenly. "All this money! And I can't think of anything to buy! What a waste!"
The terms of this contract were so unprecedented at that time that Mary Pickford, his friend, and rival for place as first screen favourite, demanded similar terms for reasons of prestige: and film companies generally had no reason to bless the decision of the Mutual Company to offer Chaplin ten times the amount he was previously receiving. More important still from the point of view of his future, the Mutual contract carried with it artistic freedom. He was to make twelve films yearly, at the rate of one a month; and all the films he made for the company were scripted and directed by himself.
All Charlie's fears and doubts returned in full force the day he first set foot in the Mutual Studio. He had no idea at all for his first film there, no theme, no incident, no inspiration; and the more he sought it, the more it eluded him. Executives, camera staff, actors and actresses were all ready and waiting. He looked at them with sick horror. He had nothing to give them. Nothing at all.
Days passed by. The Mutual director wondered how to face the Board. The company grew bored, then apprehensive. Chaplin, wrapped in impenetrable gloom, paced the studio floor, disappeared into his office; and, when tracked down there by exasperated or desperate executives, was found staring blankly into space, with so unhappy an expression that they withdrew without having said a word. A whole week had gone by, when Chaplin entered one of the big Los Angeles stores and stood by a counter waiting his turn, watching the customers going up the moving stairway to the next floor. He began to see himself, a floorwalker in the store, trying to run down the stairs that were going up.
Something like a hurricane or a thunderbolt came upon the crowded store. A small dark man bolted through the shoppers, out into the main thoroughfare, jumped into a cab, shouted the address, and talked happily to himself the whole way to the studio.
Before the apathetic company was aware of what had happened, Chaplin was among them. His incredible vitality filled the studio, jerked them all into feverish activity. The lost week behind them for ever, Charlie set them to work upon The Floorwalker, one of his funniest Mutual films.