Lost Charlie Chaplin film discovered in Michigan antique sale
Still image from Charlie Chaplin’s cameo appearance in a Keystone comedy called A Thief Catcher in January 1914.
By Scott Eyman
Palm Beach Post
Tuesday, June 8, 2010
The diminutive figure emerges from the underbrush wearing a Keystone Cop uniform about four sizes too large. He screws up his courage by giving a very familiar wiggle of his butt, followed by a very familiar wriggle of his shoulders.
He’s wearing a little moustache that would soon become world famous, carrying only a nightstick and the possibility of greatness.
It’s Charlie Chaplin, making a cameo appearance in a Keystone comedy called A Thief Catcher in January 1914, just about a month after he started working at the Edendale, California, studio. It’s the 36th film he made in a frantic year’s activity before he left for more green, not to mention greener, pastures.
A scene from “Why Husbands Flirt” (1918), one of some 75 silent movies, found in a New Zealand archive, being returned to the United States.
By Dave Kehr
New York Times
June 7, 2010
A late silent feature directed by John Ford, a short comedy directed by Mabel Normand, a period drama starring Clara Bow and a group of early one-reel westerns are among a trove of long-lost American films recently found in the New Zealand Film Archive.
Some 75 of these movies, chosen for their historical and cultural importance, are in the process of being returned to the United States under the auspices of the National Film Preservation Foundation, the nonprofit, charitable affiliate of the Library of Congress’s National Film Preservation Board. (This writer is a member of the board, and has served on grant panels for the foundation, though none related to the current project.) Chris Finlayson, New Zealand’s minister for arts, culture and heritage, is expected to announce the discovery and the repatriation officially this week.
The films came to light early in 2009, when Brian Meacham, a preservationist for the Los Angeles archive of the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences, dropped in on colleagues at the New Zealand Film Archive in Wellington during a vacation.
When Lincoln Paid: Previously lost 1913 movie about Abraham Lincoln to be screened
Actor Francis Ford (pictured above), brother of director John Ford, portrayed the Civil War-era president in “When Lincoln Paid” (1913), a two-reel film long-lost until it was discovered in a New Hampshire barn and restored. It will have its re-premiere at Keene State College on April 20, 2010.
To learn more about the find, preservation and screening, check out the article by Andre Soares at the Alt Film Guide. CLICK HERE
In 1928, Ramon Novarro became friends with Florence “Pancho” Barnes, a woman flier who became famous for breaking speed records in her plane, Mystery Ship. Years later she founded the Happy Bottom Ranch in the Antelope Valley, which became an oasis in the desert for aviators depicted in the film, The Right Stuff (1983).
Pancho was introduced to Ramon at a party, and the two became an unusual couple cavorting around Hollywood in Ramon’s sports cars. Pancho was not the glamorous type and was known for her profanity, which she used liberally.
Pancho was a staunch supporter of George Hurrell, a struggling photographer who had taken many photos of her. Ramon had told Pancho that he was planning to make his concert debut in Vienna and needed new portraits. She suggested Hurrell, and Ramon asked her to set up an appointment. Pancho excitedly told Hurrell about Novarro’s request, to which he replied, “I’m flattered, but why doesn’t he use MGM’s photographer?”
Ramon Novarro and Pancho Barnes(Photo: Pancho Barnes Trust Estate)
She explained that Novarro was planning an upcoming concert tour and added, “He doesn’t want MGM to know about it right now. If he asked Ruth Harriet Louise to do it, the prints would be all over the studio.”
That evening Hurrell prepared his tiny studio at 672 Lafayette Park Place to greet the Ben-Hur of the screen. Soon Novarro’s sports roadster arrived, and he and Pancho made their way to Hurrell’s studio, where the two were introduced. Pancho, who was breathless and giddy, excused herself, explaining she had to meet some new pilots down at Mines Field. Hurrell sensed there was a budding romance between her and Ramon, which was precisely what Pancho wanted people to think.
After Pancho left, Hurrell set up his equipment while Novarro changed. Within minutes, he turned around and saw the actor, standing quietly on the landing dressed as a Spanish grandee in a huge sombrero, with silver ornaments and a mustache glued to his upper lip.
The first photo of Ramon Novarro taken by George Hurrell
Hurrell found that Novarro, whom he nicknamed Pete, had photographically perfect features and was very relaxed. The photographer played classical music, which made Novarro more responsive. “He could face my camera with a blank expression,” Hurrell recalled. “Not at all like some of the men-about-town whom I had been photographing. I had to trick them into losing their solemn expression in order to get an interesting shot, but Ramon was relaxed.”
Two days later when the Latin saw the proofs, he told Hurrell, “You have caught my moods exactly. You have revealed what I am inside.” Hurrell photographed Novarro many times over the next few months. When Pancho saw a photo taken on her estate in San Marino (below) of a tunic-clad Novarro standing under a tree next to a white horse, the aviatrix noted, “My God George, even the horse looks glamorous!”
One day while visiting the set of The Hollywood Revue of 1929, Norma Shearer invited Novarro into her dressing room for a visit. She complained that she was very unhappy about the recent film roles she was receiving. During the conversation, Ramon spread out a stack of portraits he just received from Hurrell. Norma looked from one to the other with obvious interest. “Why Ramon, no one has ever photographed you like this before,” she said.
Ramon told her about Hurrell and his tiny Lafayette Park studio. Smiling, she said, “He may come in handy. I have an idea.” She explained that the studio was preparing a script she wanted called The Divorcee (1930). Her husband and mentor, Irving Thalberg, did not think she was beguiling enough for the part. She hoped that if Hurrell could photograph her like a “sex pot,” Irving would give her the role. So Ramon set up a meeting between the actress and Hurrell. The photographs were stunning and convinced Thalberg to give his wife the part. As a result, she won the Academy Award for best actress, and Hurrell was given a contract as a portrait photographer at MGM.
The preceeding exerpt is from Ramon Novarro: A Biography of the Silent Film Idol (1999) by Allan R. Ellenberger.
Claudette Colbert (above) poses on Vine Street next to her image emblazoned on a Christmas decoration in the heart of Hollywood. The two tall buildings on the right in the background are at the intersection of Hollywood and Vine.
By Allan R. Ellenberger
Just like anyone else, to film stars there is always just one Christmas that stands out above all others. In December 1932, several stars were asked about their most memorable Christmas.
The previous Christmas for Neil Hamilton competed with one when he was seven years old: “What with a new baby and a new house and the baby’s first Christmas tree, last year was hard to cap,” said Hamilton. “But for sheer unadulterated happiness I must remember the gorgeous Indian suit they gave me when I was seven years old. I strut when I remember it to this day. I was the reincarnation of Sitting Bull.”
James Dunn said a pool table presented to him when he was 14 still stood out as the most stylish event of his life. On that Christmas morning he invited all the boys in the neighborhood to play pool and they were still at it long past bedtime.
It was a Christmas bicycle that stood out for Douglas Fairbanks, Jr. He was eight years of age and had been demanding a bike from Santa since he was five. He’s almost given up hope when the family weakened. “It was a Rolls-Royce to me,” Fairbanks said.
Bette Davis claimed that no ecstasy since had surpassed the Christmas on which she acquired a huge Teddy Bear, handed to her from the very top of a big tree. “I have loved that Teddy all my life and still him,” she said.
It was a gorgeous box of paints, brushes, palettes all complete including a real artist’s smock, which made Claudette Colbert ecstatic when she was a small girl. She had always loved drawing and that Christmas saw the family’s recognition of her artistic yearnings.
Gary Cooper said the Christmas in which he and his family were snowed in on a cattle ranch in Montana stands our as his sweetest. No turkey, no shopping — a blizzard cut them off from everything. But the family decided to make their own fun and made presents by themselves out of any old odds and ends. “The least expensive and the jolliest Christmas I ever hope to enjoy,” he said.
A pair of rubber boots and a sled marked the most exciting Christmas for William Collier, Jr., who until that time, had to be content with a stocking encasing an orange, nuts and popcorn. He was nine years of age when the miracle occurred. And it was Marian Nixon’s very first watch, waiting on the breakfast table, which made one Christmas forever notable for her. In the same way a coaster-brake bike with a fancy headlight presented when he was 12 years old, marked one hilarious Christmas for John Boles.
Marie Dressler remembered a certain Christmas fifteen years earlier when, because her dearest friend was in the hospital, she took a tree, goodies and all the packages to the hospital between the matinee and the evening performance, and Christmassed at the there.
Joan Crawford, without hesitation, said, “Oh, Christmas 1925. I hadn’t seen my people in Kansas City for so long. I had just signed my contract with MGM and they paid my fare to the coast via Kansas City. So I went home in triumph — the biggest thrill of my life.”
It was 1919 that meant everything to Ramon Novarro. After a bus-boy job in New York, he was back in Los Angeles with his family and was celebrating his very first picture role. “We had an utterly perfect Mexican Christmas,” he remembered.
But to Maurice Chevalier, escaping from a German prison camp, rejoining his mother in Paris and receiving medical attention for his wounds — and the glorious award of the Croix de Guerre made Christmas 1918, the most memorable one for him.
Katherine Hepburn recalled an ecstatic Christmas when her father built her a little theater of her own in the back yard when she was about 12.
Is a Hollywood film studio a set for the paranormal?
By Allan R. Ellenberger
Many locations around Hollywood are reported to be haunted. There are theaters, hotels, night clubs and studios that all have their share of ghost stories. Whether or not you believe in ghosts, the possibility of a spirit continuing on after death is fascinating.
I admit to being a believer and am always looking for paranormal stories about Hollywood’s past. One story in particular, which originally had nothing to do with ghosts, caught my eye while searching through pages of microfilm. In this case a headline blared: “Death After Studio Party Called Accident by Police.” The story told about a 31-year-old studio electrician who received fatal injuries from a fall after a wrap party hosted and attended by several well-know film stars.
According to the news report, Edward W. Gray, the father of three, was found near death on the studio lot near midnight on April 4, 1946. He later died two minutes after reaching Hollywood Receiving Hospital. The first account stated that Gray may have been murdered, but a deputy coroner eventually discounted that theory. Upon examination, it was found that Gray suffered a fractured pelvis, numerous internal injuries, a skull fracture and facial injuries. The coroner said that such injuries could only be attributed to falling from a great height or, — being run over by an automobile! Huh?
Gray was found lying at the bottom of a 65-foot backdrop, along the top of which ran a catwalk. A ladder rose to the top at one end, and policy theorized that Gray had climbed to the top, then tumbled off.
Supporting this theory was the discovery of blood on a two-by four jutting from the backdrop fifteen-feet above the spot where Gray’s body was found and which would have been in the direct line of a fall from the catwalk. Oh, and Gray’s blood registered an alcohol content of .29 – today a .08 is considered intoxicated.
The studio where all this happened was a rental lot called General Service Studios, and now known as Hollywood Center Studios at 1040 N. Las Palmas Avenue. Founded in 1919 by set designer John Jasper (1876-1929) who built three production studios on 15 acres south of Santa Monica Boulevard. Billionaire-producer, Howard Hughes filmed Hell’s Angels here; the television shows, Ozzie and Harriett, Green Acres, The Beverly Hillbillies and the first two years of I Love Lucy also called this lot home. Shirley Temple made her film debut here and you may also remember this lot as the ill-fated Zoetrope Studios founded by Francis Ford Coppola in the early 1980s.
Ghostly newspaper image of studio electrician, Edward Gray, who fell to his death at the Hollywood Center Studios. Does his ghost now haunt the rafters?
I recalled stories about reported hauntings at this studio but could not remember what they were. I needed an expert so I contacted my friend, author and film historian, Laurie Jaccobson who, along with historian Marc Wanamaker are the authors of Hollywood Haunted: A Ghostly Tour of Filmland. If anyone would know, she would.
Laurie told me there were always stories of phenomenon on that particular lot including “cold spots, unexplained noises, unusual shadows on sound stages, lights going on and off, things being moved, etc all reported by guards, workers, maintenance workers and film workers on the lot.”
“There were also ‘problems’ with Stage 5,” Laurie recalled, “where Ozzie and Harriet was produced. Many say it happened all through the production. Others believe it is Ozzie himself — a workaholic who died before his time — who haunts the set.”
In the 1920s and 30s, the lot was known as Metropolitan Studios. In later years office workers reportedly heard talking in the empty offices on the second floor. “Those offices were occupied by comedy film pioneer Al Christie from 1925 to 1932,” Laurie said. “Second to Mack Sennett, Christie lost everything in the stock market crash, including his studio. He tried, but never regained his success or wealth. Now in death, he continues the work he’d been forced to give up.”
I found other reports on the internet, reportedly from a former stage manager who claimed the lot was haunted, “particularly on Stage 6, where a gaffer fell to his death decades ago.” He went on to describe the happenings:
“…when you went in to close up the stage for the night, turn off the work lights, secure all the doors, etc., you could hear foot steps in the perms (rafters) above you, following you as you moved from one part of the stage to another. When you stop, it stops. Freaking scary.”
Laurie Jacobson recalled a similar story but it involved a different stage.
“In 1946, a studio worker fell to his death on Stage 4 making the film Stairway to Hell,” she said. “For many years after, there were technical problems on that stage.”
That caught my attention since 1946 was the year that the electrician from my story fell to his death and the name of the film was the classic, Angel on My Shoulder, which, at the time it was being made, had a working title of – Stairway to Hell. It made me wonder if there could be some truth to this haunting after all so I dug a little deeper.
There were enough questions about whether Gray’s death was an accident so that an inquest was held. Reportedly, Gray and another friend were “uninvited guests” at ‘a gay party’ that was hosted by the film’s star, Paul Muni to celebrate the completion of the film. Neither Gray nor his friend had worked on the film but showed up anyway.
The party began at 6 pm and a bar was set up on the sound stage, and more than a score of tables had been arranged in front of the huge papier-mâché reconstruction of “Hell” – a familiar scene in the film.
Click on the above “Angel on My Shoulder” film clip which shows the “Hell” set where the wrap-party was held and where studio electrician, Edward Gray, fell to his death from the rafters above.
Angel on My Shoulder’s stars, Paul Muni and Anne Baxter were both called to give testimony at the inquest. Muni stated that he felt he could be of very little help, having left the party early.
“What was called ‘a gay party’ didn’t seem gay to me as I had been working all day and was very tired,” he told the jury. “Without seeming facetious, if that was a ‘gay party,’ I wonder what a dull one would be. All the people were tired. The idea was just to throw a little shindig to show good will. We were very tired, dog tired.”
“Did you see any drinking?” asked Dep. Dist. Atty. S. Ernest Roll.
“Oh, yes,” Muni replied. “Miss Baxter had milk, Miss (Joan) Blair had Coke, I had a scotch and soda, and Mrs. Muni had a sherry. Others went to the bar. I don’t know what they were drinking.”
Muni told the jury that he didn’t know Gray, although other witnesses said he sat at Gray’s table for a while and that he and Mrs. Muni left about 7:45 p.m. He added that he didn’t see anyone intoxicated.
Anne Baxter said she also was an early leaver after posing for some pictures on the film set, where the bar and tables had been set up. “Some people were drinking, others eating at steam tables,” she recalled.
Three cases of Bourbon, a case of Scotch and four cases of beer were consumed, according to the caterer.
“Wasn’t there any liquor left?” inquired Deputy Coroner Frank Monfort.
“Oh no, nothing was left,” the caterer replied.
Several witnesses agreed that Gray was intoxicated, although not quarrelsome. Along with all other technicians who worked on the film, he had been invited to attend, “as is custom.”
One friend, Allan Seiger, a property man, said that Gray was hardly able to walk from the party, and he assisted him to the gate to call a cab. But as soon as Seiger walked away, Gray ran back into the studio, according to the Gate Guard, who said earlier in the evening he had seen Gray fall down “two or three times on the set.”
Edward Gray was escorted by a friend to this gate (above) to get a taxi but instead was by seen by the gate guard returning to the studio where he eventually met his death.
It was after the taxi incident, testimony disclosed, that Gray apparently climbed the high backdrop, from where he either stumbled or fell off. According to another witness, it was common for studio workers who had been drinking to climb up high to “get out of sight.”
Studio officials emphasized that everyone had left the studio long before Gray was found dying. According to the caterer, the party ended at 8:45 pm when the liquor supply was exhausted.
Gray’s widow was represented by future Los Angeles mayor, Sam Yorty, who argued that the dead man may have been in a fight or run over by a car. However, expert medical, scientific and police testimony claimed his injuries were most likely caused by a fall.
The nine-man jury found Edward Gray’s fatal injuries were “received from a fall while intoxicated.”
Could Edward Gray be haunting the sound stages of the Hollywood Center Studios? Perhaps he was murdered and his soul can’ not find rest. Unlike the characters of the film whose wrap-party he crashed, instead of hell, he chose to walk the rafters of the studio that was his last memory.
So this Halloween, take a walk past the gates of Hollywood Center Studios and perhaps you’ll see the spirit of Edward Gray hailing a taxi instead of returning to the studio – and to his death.
It was 70 years ago this week that “The Wizard of Oz” arrived in theaters and even in this CGI-jaded era those old red ruby slippers still shine brightly.
Geoff Boucher
Los Angeles Times
August 28, 2009
The anniversary will be celebrated over the next year with numerous events, including a national tour by a seven-story Oz-themed hot-air balloon, a Sept. 23 one-night theatrical re-release of a newly restored version of the film in 450 theaters and the release next month of an “ultimate collector’s edition” package on Blu-ray and DVD with that remastered version and 16 hours of bonus material.
That may sound like a lot of attention for an artifact from the FDR administration, but there’s a timeless quality to the cinematic adaptation of L. Frank Baum’s 1900 children’s novel that still transports new generations over the rainbow. The movie remains an essential reference point — this December in James Cameron’s much-ballyhooed sci-fi epic “Avatar,” for instance, when the main character arrives on a dazzling jungle planet, moviegoers will hear a familiar line: “You’re not in Kansas anymore.” Cameron chuckled when asked about the line. “Yeah, it’s my favorite movie; I had to get it in there somewhere,” he said. Cameron is not alone in his ongoing romance with “Oz.” To mark the anniversary, The Times interviewed creators in film, television, music and books who have never wearied of the cinematic trip down the yellow brick road.
‘The Wizard of Oz’ has influenced everything from ‘Star Wars’ to ‘Lost’
By Troy Brownfield
Newsarama
MSNBC
Aug 24, 2009
Ruby slippers. If I only had a brain. We’re not in Kansas, anymore. I’ll get you, My Pretty, and your little dog, too. Pay no attention to the man behind the curtain. That’s just the tip of a pop-culture iceberg, a towering mountain of nostalgia and influence that rises above most movie fare in a time when the majority of entertainment seems fairly disposable.
On Aug. 25, 1939, “The Wizard of Oz” was released into theatres nationwide and began its not-so-classic journey toward classic status.
Now, 70 years later, the echoes of Oz continue to reach into all corners of filmmaking and pop culture in general, from the iconic “Star Wars” characters Chewie and C-3PO to frequent references on ABC’s “Lost,” from adaptations for upcoming graphic novels to mysterious ties to Pink Floyd.
The Los Angeles Chamber Orchestra Silent Film Celebration is preparing to present ‘The Gold Rush.’ Chaplin friend Norman Lloyd reminisces about the star’s later years.
By Susan King
Los Angeles Times
June 3, 2009
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Norman Lloyd says he can remember when he first became aware of Charlie Chaplin — even if he was only 1 year old and it was more than 90 years ago.
The year was 1916 and, as Lloyd recalls, “there were little Charlie Chaplins that you would wind up and they would walk. I remember vividly. I was sitting in the high chair with the little tray in front of me. My parents would wind it up and it would walk to me.”
The 94-year-old actor, producer and director, best known for playing the kindly Dr. Daniel Auschlander on “St. Elsewhere,” would become good friends with Chaplin 30 years later. Lloyd also had a role in Chaplin’s last American production, “Limelight,” in 1952.
Oscar. The Academy Award. Regardless of its name, it evokes the same emotion of respect for those who have been fortunate enough to receive one. And for those lucky ones, whether deserved or not, it is the brass ring, the ultimate in praise from their peers.
And so it was for little eight year-old Margaret O’Brien, arguably the most talented of all the child stars of her day – or since – who received the coveted award for most outstanding child actress of 1944 for her performance in Meet Me in St. Louis (1944). The special Oscar, which was a miniature version of the acclaimed award, was given sporadically in the thirties and forties. Previous winners included Mickey Rooney, Deanna Durbin and Judy Garland who was Margaret’s co-star that year.
Born Angela Maxine O’Brien, little Margaret’s rise to fame was meteoric. After seeing her photograph on the cover of a magazine, an executive at Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer signed her for a one-line scene in Babes On Broadway (1941). The powers that be at MGM saw the raw talent that the four year-old possessed, and immediately cast her in a war-time drama with Robert Young called Journey For Margaret (1942), from which she took her new name. Small parts in three films soon followed until her starring role in Lost Angel, (1944) which was the first written specifically for her.
Joan Carroll, Lucille Bremmer, Judy Garland, Tom Drake and Margaret O’Brien in a scene from Meet Me in St. Louis (1944)
At the request of director Vincent Minnelli, the studio cast her in the role of Tootie Smith in their new Technicolor musical, Meet Me in St. Louis. MGM had big hopes for this film and spent an astronomical $100,000 to build the St. Louis street on their back lot. Besides Margaret, the film included Judy Garland, Lucille Bremmer and Mary Astor and introduced such musical standards as “The Boy Next Door,” “The Trolley Song,” and the holiday classic, “Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas,” which Garland sang to Margaret.
When the film was released near the end of 1944, critics across the country applauded Margaret’s performance. The Hollywood Reporter claimed that she was the hottest thing on the MGM roster.
“Hers is a great talent,” the Reporter continued, “as distinctly outstanding as the greatest stars we have. The O’Brien appeal is based on her naturalness. She’s all America’s child, the type every person in an audience wants to take into his arms.”
But it wasn’t only America that raved. In London, the film was the biggest hit that city had seen in months. The Daily Express prophetically declared, “Her quiet, compelling acting, worthy of an Academy Award, steals the show.”
The Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences shared that opinion and awarded her a Special Oscar for the Most Outstanding Child Actress of 1944. At the ceremony, which was held at Grauman’s Chinese Theater on March 15, 1945, Margaret was given her Oscar by director Mervyn LeRoy. The emcee for the evening, comedian Bob Hope, lifted Margaret to the microphone so she could be heard by the listening radio audience.
“Will you hurry up and grow up, please?” Hope said as he struggled with the young winner.
As LeRoy handed her the Oscar, he said, “To the best young actress of the whole year of 1944. Congratulations.”
“Thank you,” she replied. I really don’t know what to say. Thank you very much.”
However she did know what to say. Her mother had written her an acceptance speech, but at the last minute Margaret decided to improvise her very own thank you to the Academy.
During her career, Margaret O’Brien was bestowed with many awards and accolades, including the honor of placing her hands and footprints in cement in the forecourt of Grauman’s Chinese, but the Oscar would be her most prized and valued possession. Unfortunately the little statuette would not stay around for long.
At the O’Brien home on Beverly Drive, Margaret had a separate room for her awards. One day in 1958, their maid took the Oscar and several other awards to her home to polish – a practice she did on several occasions. After three days, the maid failed to return so Mrs. O’Brien called and told her that she was dismissed and asked that she return the awards.
Not long after, Mrs. O’Brien, who was not in good health, suffered a relapse and died. Grief stricken, Margaret forgot about the maid and her Oscar until several months later when she tried to contact her, only to find that her phone was disconnected. The maid had moved and did not leave a forwarding address. Margaret considered the Oscar gone forever. A few years later, the Academy graciously replaced the award with a substitute, but it was not the same.
Over the next thirty years, Margaret would attend memorabilia shows searching for her lost Oscar. Then, in early 1995, a friend saw that Oscar in a catalogue for an upcoming memorabilia auction. Margaret contacted the Academy legal department who acted swiftly in having the Oscar returned.
Margaret O’Brien with her stolen Oscar that was returned to her by the Academy, and me in my younger days (no I’m not drunk it’s just one-of-those-pics) Michael Schwibs photo
On February 7, 1995, nearly fifty years since she first received it, the Academy officially returned the stolen Oscar to Margaret O’Brien in a special ceremony at their headquarters in Beverly Hills. Once reunited with her award, Margaret told the attending journalists:
“For all those people who have lost or misplaced something that was dear to them, as I have, never give up the dream of searching – never let go of the hope that you’ll find it because after all these many years, at last, my Oscar has been returned to me.”
