This is version 3.0, 2.0 has been read by only two people other than myself and 1.0 won't be seeing the light of day any time soon. Hopefully all of the glaring errors have been corrected, I don't pretend to be a proof reader. Nor am I going to pretend it is perfect, it's far from it.
With Christmas nearly a week away, I feel it is an appropriate time to share a story that deals with family. Whether we like our family or not, no matter how much they may get on our nerves we are more or less stuck with them especially come this time of year.
A Brother's Reflection
“Where could he be?” This is what Syd asked himself as he entered the block
containing the studio offices. His
foot falls echoed dully in the corridor behind the front most office occupied
by a secretary behind a wide desk, stationed there to greet guests and
intercept mail and incoming telephone calls. The back most offices belonged to the studio manager and his
wayward younger brother and that was the last place he had not checked. Hardwood floors and bare walls did
little disguise the presence of anyone trudging through the halls, but perhaps
that is what his brother desired, knowing ahead of time that someone was coming
gave him a chance to compose himself or even make a hasty exit if he possessed
no intention of greeting them.
Oftentimes he would slip out the back door and hide himself amongst the
set of the dressing rooms of this company, leaving Syd to deal with the
visitors on his own. Through his
mind played the phrases he had committed to memory, like images crystallized on
film, fixed and permanent, for such situations. “Mr. Chaplin is out at the moment, he should be back
shortly,” “Mr. Chaplin is ill,
perhaps I could take message?”
How
odd it was referring to his kid brother in that manner, they shared the same
surname and many times the guests would notice the family resemblance even
though they were half brothers.
Then there was the time he hid in the property room, buried beneath the
blankets on a bed situated behind a tall wardrobe. Syd cringed, that day some important visitor from the
offices in New York had dropped in to see how filming was going on The Pawn
Shop and of course that slippery eel of a brother of his was no where to be
found, none of the cast had seen him nor any of the crew. Of course the secretary said he was in
his office. Embarrassed and mildly
upset he told the man in the suit that he would go fetch his brother. It had taken Syd more than thirty
minutes to find him and another fifteen to convince him to return to his
office, the whole time he kept flipping open his watch and checking the time;
time was money after all. And he
would get his brother back to that office even if it meant lifting him from his
feet like a defiant child and throwing him over his shoulder, grabbing him by
the hips, shoving him through the door and slamming it shut behind them before
he could slip away again.
“Looking
for Charlie?” the secretary known as Fran to all the studio regulars peered
around the doorframe. She was
pretty Syd though, tidy light brown hair in a tight chignon, lively hazel eyes,
nice white teeth, young pert bust, he almost had to pinch himself to stop this
thoughts from heading to where they were going. “He came back from luncheon with Edna just awhile ago, he
should be in his office.”
That
was part of the problem, while Fran though Charlie was in his office he could
in all reality be anywhere. If Syd
could have his way he would hire a personal secretary to keep an eye on Charlie
while Fran could entertain guests until he was ready for them. The other part of the problem was
Charlie needed to get over his shyness, grow up; Syd could not always be there
to save him in such situations. He
also knew it would be no small task for his brother’s fear and bashfulness was
no act, he was genuinely scared when having to face important people he hardly
knew. So many times Syd sat beside
him in that office, noting that Charlie sat perched on the edge of his chair
stiff and unliving as a doll, he could literally hear his brother’s innards
twisting themselves into knots, the sickly gurgle of their contents making a
rush to the nearest exit.
Thankfully none of those times merited a visit by the studio
housekeeping staff.
Instead
of being embarrassed by his brother Syd felt embarrassed for him, the former
meant betraying him and that was something he could not bring himself to
do. Though he felt the first step
in correcting the issue would be a personal secretary that was too dear for
Charlie, who kept a close eye on his finances. Even though Syd understood the concept of being frugal more
than most, he also knew that sometimes one had to spend money in order to make
money.
The
heavy paneled door, which lead to Charlie’s office stood cracked and Syd pushed
it open expecting to find his brother, seated at his desk with his back to
him. But alas, the office was
empty as a gut feeling told him it would be. The roll top desk against the far wall stood open, the wood
swivel chair with its heavily padded leather seat imprinted and perfectly
formed to Charlie’s posterior was pushed away. To make sure his eyes were not betraying him Syd turned
slowly in place, surveying the spacious sunny room with its tall windows. He checked behind the dressing screen
stood in an interior corner away from prying eyes, no Charlie, yet there was an
empty bentwood chair before a dressing table and the outsized trousers, vest
and too small jacket hung from hooks on the wall. Also he noticed that amidst the heaps of papers and piles of
books on the desk was Charlie’s silver fountain pen and draped over one of the
simple wooden chairs in front of the table where he met guests was his jacket,
grey tweed, fitted to every curve of his pint-sized body. His overcoat hung on the wooden rack by
the door and his cap was tossed in an over stuffed leather chair by one of the
windows, atop a thick wool blanket crumpled in its seat.
It
was an unusually chilly southern California day and Syd knowing his brother
than anyone else knew Charlie would not go anywhere without these items,
neither did he get on well with the cold, he chilled easily and despised the
feeling. He was still at the
studio, somewhere inside more than likely. Syd had not spoken with Edna; in fact he did not spy her
anywhere as he crossed the back lot.
A circuit in his agile mind closed and a light bulb went on inside his
head; Charlie was with Edna, hiding out in her dressing room.
Dressing
rooms at Loan Star Studio were all accessed from outside, from the back lot and
his brother had ensconced Edna in one of the largest and most elaborate. The back lot was entered by passing
through the rear office door or through a gate in the surrounding wood plank
fence placed there to allow in cars and delivery trucks. Before leaving the office one more door
caught Syd’s eye, nailed to it was a brass plaque that spelled out Gentlemen,
one last place to check before heading outside. His hand closed around the doorknob and the door yielded
with a grating squeak. Deliberately
he stepped inside, attempting to muffle is footsteps on the white tile floors
with their black accents. He
cringed knowing he could never enter the toilets without making a ruckus,
without making himself known.
It
was a sparsely appointed room, a window with frosted glass panes for privacy on
the farthest wall, yellow clay tiles reaching toward an unfinished ceiling,
criss crossed with water pipes running to the wash basin on one wall and the
two toilets and urinal on the other.
The toilets were enshrouded in wooden cubicles on the sides touching the
floor and doors that ended several inches above. Syd noticed the air smelled thick, foul, someone had been in
there moments before or was in there now.
As he went to push open the panel in the window that swung open, he
spotted a pair of shoes under the door of the toilet that overlapped with the
window. Familiar shoes, he did a
double take, a small pair of high top button shoes, black patent leather, grey
canvas uppers, he would recognize those shoes anywhere as they belonged to someone
very dear to him. Spindly ankles
encased in stripped socks emerged from their tops, below the cuffs of grey
tweed trousers.
“Charlie?”
he inquired knowing it would be no one else.
“Good
God Syd! Get out of here!” came a
voice form the other side of he door that was undeniably Charlie’s. “I would like a bit of privacy…
Whatever it is can wait till I’m through.”
“I’ll
be in your office then,” Syd answered pausing a moment, hoping he was not
making a mistake by just leaving.
Even
though the door between them was closed and locked he could see his brother,
all five foot six and one hundred and nineteen pounds of him, in his waistcoat
and shirtsleeves, braces unhitched trousers down just enough to preserve his
modesty. With it being could he would
be wearing a union suit, the drop seat unbuttoned held up out of the way,
baring only what was necessary. He
would be perched on the wooden seat with a book in his lap; he had taken to
reading while going about his business years ago. A part of him deep inside compelled Syd to push the chair
standing near the wash basin up to the cubicle door and peek in on Charlie,
surprising him, knowing the reaction would be more than good it would be
hilarious. Yet there was no way to
go about it silently.
“Sydney?”
He
turned to leave without uttering another word, there was no use rushing nature
and Charlie would take as long as he needed, even though it seemed he was
taking his time, enjoying him self and the alone time. Syd wondered if this would become one
more way for him to avoid meeting guests, but Charlie was too modest, he could
never let Syd tell them he was sitting on the loo. Although the thought of saying that made Syd uncomfortable,
he knew he could never do that.
But if it did become an issue there was an easy remedy, Charlie could
only spend so much time each day in the water closet and if he started using it
as an excuse all he needed to do was call in a doctor to check him out, that
would quickly put Charlie to rights.
Sighing
Syd settled into the empty chair in his brother’s office before the table,
thinking life had not always been this way. Growing up there was no privacy, at least amongst his
immediate family. They resided in
a one room flat three floors above the street in an impoverished area of
London’s south end. Charlie and
himself slept together back to back in a single bed, bundled beneath the quilt
their mother pieced together out of scraps of old clothing. They spent every waking minute together
in those days, playing in the streets when it was nice, or inside when it rained
or when Charlie fell ill, which to Syd seemed all to often. Mother would sit on the edge of the bed
telling his brother stories, reading to him from borrowed books or newspapers,
or later the Bible, singing softly, acting out what she seen in the streets
below all in mime. Syd would sit
transfixed, taking it all in, but also sick with envy. To him it seemed Charlie received the
most attention, was constantly fussed over in those days. He was the youngest and Mother always
said to him please watch out for Charlie.
In
those days there was no water closets or private baths, at least not for them,
both were something for the wealthy upper classes, a mere dream. Tucked beneath the bed a yellow ware
chamber pot with blue and white bands.
So, when Charlie felt the urge there was no place else to go, of course
at the time neither of them thought anything of it. His brother would squat atop the pot in plain view and when
finished ashes from the fireplace were sprinkled to keep the odor down and a
newspaper placed on top to hide the filth from view. Under the bed it went until the time came to empty it, much
to Syd’s pleasure that duty fell on Charlie with him being the youngest, unless
he was indisposed then it was his job.
Laughing
aloud he recalled how Mother fussed over their bowel movements, to her it
showed their bodies were healthy, functioning properly, the way the lord
intended. She would watch and wait, looking for signs that seemed off
that could spell illness, called for some homespun remedy. Now the thought caused him to blush,
even though it was only a sign of how much she cared for them, her two sons,
really the only thing she had in this world. In the back of this throat he could still taste the putrid
fish oil, the joy he felt when Mother one time pinned Charlie in a chair and
forced the oil down his gullet.
Syd could still see his arms and legs flailing, the muffled cries,
Mother prizing Charlie’s mouth open.
He had rocked with fits of laughter only to be chastised later, “Be happy
you are well, but don’t laugh at the plight of others.” Any coughs, sneezes, runny noses,
rashes, bumps and bruises were regarded in much the same way.
When
well Mother put an emphasis on cleanliness, on both the home and self, even
though they were poor they could attempt it. Fortnightly baths in the tin tub before the fire, each
morning faces were washed in the basin, before bed faces, hands, feet,
underarms and bottoms were scrubbed before night shirts were pulled on, before
being tucked in and kissed on the forehead. Mother bathed them when they were very young, working
quickly before they could catch cold.
Charlie’s fragile health was always of utmost concern; he still told
cold easily, albeit now he cared for himself, though there was the possibility
Edna fussed over him. She made
sure he was eating well and had clean clothing.
Hair
was brushed and combed, his was simple, straight, and lank it only needed a
wetting and an all over combing.
Charlie’s curls required special attention, snarls needed to be worked
out, brushing with Mother’s own boar bristle to get them to lay just so. Although Syd pretended to hate it he
wished he possessed hair like his brother’s only for the extra attention; still
did in fact, the ladies adored Charlie’s thick ebony ringlets. Of course at the time Charlie did not
like having to sit still while Mother worked on his hair, he just wanted to run
off and play.
It
was not surprising they were such a tight knit family with so many shared
intimate moments, yet that changed as soon as Mother’s health failed. Overnight they went from being merely
poor to destitute, three modest meals a day dwindled to one if they were
fortunate. Mother could no longer
work or care for them, their room grew filthy, piles of dishes, soiled laundry,
ashes overflowed from the hearth.
There was too much for two young boys to tend to on top of doing
whatever they could to find food.
The landlady came by demanding rent while there was nothing they could
do, Mother was out and stayed out for hours only returning late at night.
At
that tender age Syd had no clue what she did for the money she came home with,
only when he grew older did it occur to him, causing him to feel physically
ill. Deep inside him it also
inspired awe, she did what she had to put food on the table and keep a roof over
their heads. Her mercurial moods
caused them both much anguish, one time as she was having a fit they cowered
along side of the bed, Syd holding his mortified brother who wept and begged
for it to stop. Round that time
his rivalry with Charlie faded some, Mother always reminded him to watch out for
Charlie but the words rang worthless at the time. It was there that they started to mean something more, he
was older, almost a man in his eyes, he possessed something his brother a mere
baby did not. To be grown up meant
taking care of Charlie, emulating his mother, making sure he stayed well and
kept clean, for soon he was all Syd had left in this world.
A
sound outside the office startled Syd from his reverie. Peering over his shoulder he expected
to see Charlie coming through the door, but it was Fran, “did you find him?”
she asked, framed by the doorway.
This time her appearance did nothing to arouse Syd, so caught up in his
own thoughts was he.
Syd
nodded, “he’s in…” he gestured to the studio toilets tucked behind the offices.
Fran
smiled in knowing acknowledgement, then returned to her post. He wondered what was taking Charlie so
long, yet remembered that Charlie took as long as he damn well wanted to finish
anything. Shifting his weight,
keeping his foot from going numb, Syd thought about the day Mother brought them
to the workhouse, it was grey and raining, cold, the building was mammoth and
foreboding. For years he hated
Mother for doing that to them, it took years for him to understand it was a
blessing of sorts, saving Charlie and him from untimely ends. They parted ways there, Charlie and
himself heading to Hanwell a school for orphans and destitute children, his
young mind though they would remain together and he would continue looking out
for his brother. On the ride there
Charlie sobbed and continued to once they were separated. Charlie went to a dormitory with young
boys and himself with those his own age.
He excelled in school and was soon whisked off to Exmouth, a training
ship to become a seaman. He
continued to worry about his brother but knew he was being cared for better
than he could hope to do on his own.
Eventually
Mother was let out the workhouse and came to collect them, yet during that
period he was away more than he was home, having been hired by a steamship company
as a steward. Time permitting Syd
would visit and bring with a portion of his earnings to pass along to his
mother and brother. Mother was
proud of him although she disliked he was for such long stretches of time. Still her health suffered, shifting
between lucid and fits where she lost all control. Charlie suffered too, that was until he began pursuing a
stage career of his own, with two performer parents it was only natural. And it pleased Syd to see his brother
growing up and making his own way in the world. For several years he led a life that prior to he could have
only dreamed of seeing the world, transforming into a man. With Charlie able to fend for himself
there was little to worry about, or so he thought.
Then
there was that day Syd came home to find heir flat empty, even the ashes had
been cleaned from the hearth.
According to the landlady Mother had been committed to a mental
institution and his dear brother was living on the streets. Gut instinct told him is was time for a
change, he would not be returning to sea and instead rented some rooms several
blocks from where they grew up.
With information gathered from their former landlady and other street
children Syd located his brother following three long days of worried
torment. To this day his stomach
still churned when he thought about it.
Children perished on the streets with nobody to look after them, maybe
something had happened to Charlie.
Now after all those years, Syd recalled thinking, that maybe he would be
alone in the world.
When
Syd found Charlie the sight of him left him appalled and floored. Dressed in rags, covered in filth,
those once luminous raven curls of his matted, caked with dirt, straggling into
his eyes, over his ears down to his shirt collar. Emaciated, his vast baby blue eyes sunken, cheeks hollow,
his body he feared might crumble if the wind blew to hard. Charlie had been almost unrecognizable,
just another waif, although it was his eyes that gave him away. Syd felt as if he would be sick, his
heart ached and still did as he thought about it now, like some entity were
slowly shredding it with a dull blade.
First
order of business had been to get some food inside his brother’s empty
belly. Fried fish wrapped in
newspaper was sold in a stall several blocks away, Syd bought a helping for
each of them. Charlie devoured his
ravenously, leaving him feeling it was a wonder his brother did not choke. He let Charlie have some of his fish,
he needed the nourishment it brought bad, an act of pity Syd would never have
considered when they were younger.
Together they walked back to the newly rented flat, where that night
Charlie slept on the floor in front of the fire. Being so dirty refused he bed, no matter how Syd begged him
to sleep there. He did smell
awful, maybe he was infested with lice, fleas or parasites, Syd thought.
Next
day he rose early, while Charlie still slumbered peacefully in a heap on the
hard floor. He went out, brought
some soap, talked to the man at the chemist’s shop about what type of shampoo
would work best to detangle and cleanse filthy hair, this was his first time
purchasing shampoo. He even
considered getting some new clothing for Charlie, but had not the faintest idea
of what sizes to choose. Upon
returning his brother was still asleep, a testament to how exhausted he was, to
how long it had been since had a warm place to sleep in peace. Later when Charlie awoke, Syd dressed
him in an extra change of his own clothing that was much too large, though a
few pins helped with the fit.
First
stop of the day was the Kennington Baths, where when they were younger they
would skip school to go swimming.
They were not there to swim, for a small fee they could use a bathtub
enclosed in a cubicle with hot water on tap. In the sterile white room with tile floors Charlie undressed
while deep tub filled. So thin was
he that he was painful to behold, ribs, hips, shoulder blades, spine all
visible, poking through his brother’s skin. Gaunt legs bowed and knock kneed from the lack of
flesh. In days past he had seen
his brother without clothes many times, but never this thin, he still was
skinny but not to the extent he was then.
Syd also noticed Charlie was no longer a boy; his body was that of a
man. Both of then bathed, Charlie
first then Syd, who was amazed by how well his brother, cleaned up, how much
better he looked. Although he sat
on the bench knees together, feet splayed and trembling from a chill he could
not shake a towel around his shoulders Charlie looked less like death
incarnate.
Following
the bath Syd took Charlie to get his hair trimmed and they went and acquired
him a new set of clothes. Grown up
clothes, a suit, shirts, collars, cuffs, a couple of changes of underwear and
socks and a new pair of shoes with room to grown and fill out. And that Charlie did, over the months
that followed he grew several inches, regained the weight he lost and became a
little too handsome Syd recalled.
If he was remembering it right, he first worked as a bar tender to
support them and Charlie landed a job with a traveling comedy troop with his
help. Shortly thereafter he was
taken on by Karno, where he was able to, with much haranguing get his brother a
job after his stint was up with the first troop. And the rest was history, Syd thought now, scratching an
itch around the back of his head.
Without his contributions neither of them would be where they were
now. Charlie would not be what he
was and that was why he would not let him off easily, he needed to continue to
face his fears. Funny how at what
seemed like the beginning of the end for both of them both of their careers
blossomed like crocuses in spring, leaving them miles away from where they
first began. Syd was glad those
awful days were long since past, savage and beastly times they were.
Another
sound in the hall caught his attention and he pulled him robust frame upright
from the chair. Making his way to
the door he discerned women’s foot falls, heels clunking on the bare floor. It was Edna; she was smiling, so gorgeous,
his brother had chosen well. Rubenesque, with a round pretty face like an
angel, she filled out the simple dress she was wearing more than
adequately. He wished to peel it
from her here and now on Charlie’s table, yet thought better of it, his brother
would be irate. He told himself he
was a married man and Min would like it none better.
“Have
you seen Charlie?” Edna paused at the doorway radiant as a beam of California
sunlight. “He told me he’d see me
after lunch.”
Silently
drawing in a sharp breath Syd answered, “he’s in the toilet, he should be out
any moment.”
She
grinned and he bit his lip in attempt to quiet his thoughts that he feared she
might hear, “tell him I’m in my dressing room.”
“Wait…
Please stay,” he found himself saying, knowing that if she did it gave Charlie
all the more incentive to stick around and here what he had to say. With the way events were unfolding
around the studio as of late if Charlie had his way Edna and him would be
making another trip out to the beach.
“You
probably have something important to talk about and I’ll just be a
distraction.”
For
Syd she already was unbeknownst to her, “no… No you won’t…Sit,” he gestured to
the other chair. It was true, what
he had to say could be spoken in front of Edna; after all she was practically
family now.
From
the chair she took Charlie’s jacket and lovingly draped it over the table like
it were actually, physically a part of him, then settled down to wait. Syd returned to his chair and sat with
his legs crossed to hide his body’s protestations. Soon as he was settled, light quick footsteps echoed on the
hall, a door closed heavily and Charlie swung around the corner and entered his
office stopping dead, a bewildered look contorting his features.
“Hi
doll,” he greeted Edna first, bending down to kiss her cheek. “Syd.”
Syd
was on his feet once more and before Charlie could go behind the table and plop
down in his chair he grasped one of his hands like he were gong to shake
it. Funny little hands they were he
though, frail and tiny like a lady’s hairy like a man’s.
“What
is it Syd?”
He
shook his head, “I was just thinking how lucky we are… To go to this,” his eyes
darted around the comfortably furnished room with its electric lights and
central heat.
He
did not need to explain it to Charlie for he knew all to well what Syd
meant. Then he pulled his brother
into an embrace, holding him closely like a parent would a child, he could not
remember the last time he hugged Charlie or was so grateful to have him
around. It always surprised him
how small and insubstantial Charlie felt in his arms, delicate. His brother beamed ear to ear and
seemed to be getting a bit choked up, Edna smiled sweetly. The only other question Syd had, the
one he had intended to ask first, until his emotions took hold of him, regarded
when filming would begin on the last film he needed to produce in order to
fulfill his Mutual contract. Each
subsequent film was taking longer than the last to complete and Mutual had
telegrammed Syd asking what he knew.
For weeks Charlie had been working out the scenario in between jaunts to
the beach with Edna.
With
Charlie seated comfortably in his swivel chair, Syd breached the question. Coming forward with great gusto Charlie
went on to explain what he had in mind.
An escaped convict, himself, saving a drowning girl, Edna. Him, the convict, going to a party
hosted by the girl’s parents, beautiful dancers that would provide further
temptation to his Little Tramp.
The girl would have an ugly, brutish and overbearing beau who would get
in the way, Eric Campbell his loyal heavy. Visits to the beach proved to be inspiration Charlie stated,
the glue that would fit most pieces of the picture together. Like sunlight on the waves Charlie’s
eyes gleamed and twinkled, overflowing with excitement and vitality, a far cry
from those sullen, sunken eyes of years gone by. Those hands danced through the air, or smoothed back dark
curls that now gleamed freshly washed and neatly brushed in the afternoon light. A luminous young man, Syd knew if not
for himself these stories that would go on to inspire millions the world over
would remain unheard.
