This is an article concerned with a hypothetical interview with Charlie Chaplin about his memories of Mabel Normand. Following the publication of his autobiography everyone wanted to know more about his relationship with The Keystone Girl. Despite numerous requests, Charlie always declined to talk further about the little clown. This article represents what Charlie might have said, if such an interview had ever taken place. ES is the interviewer and CC is Charlie Chaplin.
ES: Now Charlie let’s start with your book. Your allusions to Mabel are brief, but intriguing. They leave us hanging on a cliff edge, so why didn’t you say more?
CC: Well, let’s be clear about this — I only worked with Mabel for one year, and yet I wrote more about her than any other girl I’d known over such a short time. If you really want to know, I devoted a whole chapter to her in the original manuscript, and she turned up throughout the book.
ES: That, again, is very intriguing. Our readers will want to know why you took so much material out of the final draft.
CC: You must understand that I did not write alone – I had a ghost writer, paid by the publishers to basically hold me back. He told me straight “Charlie, you’re already in trouble with governments world-wide. If you associate yourself too closely with ‘bad girl’ Mabel, the heavens will open and you will drown in the downpour.” I listened, but listened, perhaps, too well.
ES: Will you ever publish this material?
CC: No, oh no, I read it every day, but I’ll destroy it long before I die.
ES: Okay, let’s leave it there. Now when did you first become aware of Mabel?
CC: In late 1910 or early 1911, same as everyone else. She exploded onto the screen as Vitagraph Betty in the John Bunny comedies.
ES: She was a dream wasn’t she?
No, not The Donald snoozing by Mabel’s side, but John Bunny.
CC: Yes, but, to a professional actor, she was more than that. The first time I saw her, I was sitting with my understudy Arthur Jefferson (Stan Laurel) and he kept nudging me with his elbow:
“Look at that Charlie, look what she’s doing now, why didn’t we ever think of that?”
We both knew, that very minute, that we must get into pictures. On the stage we had to be very broad – it was all very much “Fr-i-e-n-d-s, R-o-m-a-n-s, C-o-u-n-t-r-y-m-e-n” legs planted wide and arms extended to the heavens. The Betty films made us understand what could be done with film. Subtle gestures, movements and little nuances could be transmitted to an audience, especially in the close shots that the movies made possible.
ES: Sure, so you appreciated Mabel’s art, but what of the other players and directors?
CC: If you mean what of D.W. Griffith, then there was no comparison. Now, I’m not dumbing Griffith down, but for all his hype, his films were, in the early days, just plays within a landscape that he put onto film. Mabel was a revelation, a breath of fresh air, the sensation of 1911, as the newspapers were quick to announce.
ES: So, you had to wait three years to meet her?
CC: Well, not exactly – I wrote to her. Sent a letter from Old Blighty to her studio.
ES: Did she reply?
CC: Strangely enough, yes. I got a photograph back (you know the classic one with the curtain hanging around her shoulders). This accompanied a lovely letter signed “Your Girl Mabel.” I showed the letter to other members of the company.
ES: What did they say?
CC: They laughed, and said I’d written it myself. Years later, I saw that letter’s twin, framed, and hanging in Mack Sennett’s office. The poor fool thought he was the only one. In fact, there were a million men worldwide, who had the self-same letter hanging on their walls. That was Mabel, she always made you feel special, and, as I later discovered, you’d feel even more special when you actually met her. A few years back, I discussed all of this with her compatriot at the Vitagraph, Norma Talmadge. She confirmed the letter thing, but told me men would send her engagement rings – some with huge diamonds set in them. She wore them in rotation, on her ring finger, just to keep everyone guessing.
ES: She began the whole movie star bit then?
CC: She was born a star.
ES: Eventually, you came to the U.S. and got called to Keystone by Kessell and Baumann to do films with Mabel.
CC: Not exactly. I engaged an American agent to promote me, and get me into the flickers. I told him I wanted to play opposite The Keystone Girl.
ES: What did he say?
CC: He simply laughed, and pointed to a filing cabinet:
“That” He said “Is full of the details of actors that want to be Miss Mabel’s leading man – I’m sorry Charlie, but you’ve got no chance, Mack Sennett has her closely guarded, and is very particular about who appears with his star-of-stars.”
I told him to keep at it, alongside his current publicity work for me.
Mabel in an early Biograph comedy: Oh Those Eyes.
ES: Eventually, of course, you got the call from Keystone’s Kessell and Baumann?
CC: That’s right, the agent forwarded the letter to me. Well, I fairly floated from Philadelphia to New York, where I met the movie giants and Baumann’s daughter Ada in their plush office on Longacre (Times Square). They wanted me at Keystone, and Ada smiled sweetly at me saying:
“Miss Mabel Normand has asked for you personally – you’ll be playing alongside the Keystone Girl, Mr Chaplin.”
Well, I virtually snatched the pen from Kessell’s hand and furiously signed for $125 dollars a week.
ES: So, Mabel had seen your act?
CC: Well, so it seems.
ES: And you went to Keystone?
CC: No, not straightaway, I had to complete my tour with the Karno Company, which eventually brought me to L.A. and the Empress Theatre, where Mack came backstage to see me.
KS: No Mabel then?
CC: Mabel stayed outside on the sidewalk, and Mack brought me outside to meet her.
KS: A momentous meeting clearly.
CC: Well, not really. You must understand that both Mabel and myself were essentially introverts, and neither of us could cope with meeting new people. We both mumbled something, but we made no eye contact.
KS: The world’s most eligible bachelor met the world’s most eligible maiden, and nothing happened?
CC: Yep, it was a damp squib. Sennett bundled us into his glamorous race car and took us to a restaurant. Over dinner, Sennett explained his methods and what he expected of me.
“Ooh, he’s such a gentleman.” Charlie and Mabel with Mack’s racing car and Thor IV motorcycle.
ES: Did Mabel say anything?
C.C. Not at first, she just looked down into her plate, but I did feel her foot brushing against mine under the table. I think Sennett detected a certain ‘atmosphere’, for he looked at me quizzically and said “I don’t think you’ll do Charlie, you’re too young!”
ES: But didn’t you always make up older on the stage?
CC: Yes, but he was wondering whether I might run off with his little clown – we were almost the same age. Actors and actresses, you’ll understand, are passionate, sensitive and emotional.
ES: But you had no such intention obviously.
CC: Are you kidding me? Of course I did! Anyway, Mabel finally looked up and told Mack I’d do just fine.
ES: So, Sennett didn’t want you at his studio?
CC: You bet he didn’t. After he dropped me off at my hotel, I think he was straight on to K and B, telling them to rescind my contract. When that didn’t work, he made the film Mabel’s Dramatic Career, in which he sets out to kill the tin-type that had stolen Mabel, along with Mabel and their three kids.
Mack decided to put an end to this domestic bliss. Mabel’s Dramatic Career.
ES: Didn’t that put you off?
CC: Well, I went thrice to the studio, and, like Dick Whittington, thrice I turned away. Then Mack phoned me and told me to get my ass down there pronto, so, figuring it was safe, down I went.
ES: And you were set straight to work with Mabel.
CC: Hell no! There was no sign of Mabel, although I often heard that dirty laugh across the lot, and knots of crewmen and actors betrayed her whereabouts. Mack kept me on a string for a month, while he tried to persuade K and B to ditch me.
ES: And after the month?
CC: Well, then he put me with Henri ‘Pathe’ Lehrman, the fake Frenchman, and we filmed Making a Living. Lehrman advised me to wear clothes like Sennett used in his early Biograph films, as it would please him and polish The King’s ego. I looked ridiculous in a ‘way down east’ moustache, top hat, frock coat and a monocle. We filmed outside Mabel’s bungalow dressing room, and I swear I could hear her laughing at me from inside.
ES: Then you went with Mabel?
CC: Kind of, yes. All of a sudden, and unexpectedly, I bumped into her coming around a corner on the lot:
“Ah, Charlie” She said “I’d wondered where you’d been hiding”.
I tried to explain that I hadn’t been hiding, but she cut me off .
“I hear you’re going to lead with me in my next film?
“Am I?” I asked.
“Oh yes, I’ve asked for you. Come to my dressing room, and I’ll explain the plot.”
ES: Oh, oh!
Mabel’s dressing room.
CC: Exactly, but when the Queen calls you into her presence you’d better go. We entered the bungalow, which was a home from home. There were fashionable wicker chairs, a Louis XIVth dressing table, big plumped up cushions, a fan, a heater and a phonograph (I think they call them record players nowadays).
ES: Wow, that was something back then.
CC: Oh yeah, she was a movie star before the word was ever coined. Anyhow she sat me down and pulled up a chair real close, and began to tell me the scenario. Now, let me explain something. When Mabel spoke to you, she would keep touching your leg, or actually put her hand on your thigh – for a long time. She did this with women as well, and it kind of pulled you in, and all the time those big dark eyes were on you. This made you feel special and that you were the only one.
ES: My god, your blood pressure must have gone through the roof!
CC: Right, but anyway, she said they’d start shooting tomorrow morning at nine o’ clock sharp:
“Oh, by the way Charlie, don’t wear that stupid frock coat.”
To which I replied “What costume would you suggest?” She thought a moment, then said “Copy Mack’s scruffy, hobo character, it’ll…. “
“Please him and polish his ego?” I interjected
ES: So, tell me Charlie, did Mabel have a star on her door?
C.C. Good god, no! At one time she came back to the bungalow and found a gold star stuck on the door. She tore it off, stormed over to Sennett’s office, and you could hear the arguments all over the lot. There was the sound of books and ledgers being thrown and a complete telephone came out through the window. No more stars ever appeared, although Mack did screw a sign to the door saying ‘The Keystone Girl’. By the way, Mabel was never alone in the dressing room, and it was usually full of actresses.
Mabel’s Strange Predicament.
Mabel and dog, inside and outside the hotel.
ES: I take it the film was Mabel’s Strange Predicament?
CC: Correct, and I arrived at precisely nine o’ clock. All the cast were there except Mabel. They’d set up a hotel lobby, and Mack threw me in and said “Do your stuff.” I did a drunken scene in the lobby, upsetting all the posh guests, then Mabel flounced along to the usual cheers and adulation of the crew and cast. I couldn’t believe what she was wearing. All the other women were wearing the tailor fit clothes that were then becoming popular – you know sharply tailored, like men’s clothes. Mabel was wearing a complicated dress that dated back to around 1870 and a huge boa feather. Both Mabel and I were incongruous among the other guests. She also had a dog on a lead! I had no time to ask questions, for after doing one short scene with Mabel, I was grabbed by Lehrman and driven off to Venice to do a film called Kid Auto Races in Venice.
ES: But didn’t you appear throughout Strange Predicament?
CC: Yes, we were back in four hours, and Mack told me I’d be playing a major part in the film. They’d shot some scenes without me, but now we raced like hell to complete the picture before the light faded. The film was manic, and ran at great speed, mostly with me chasing Mabel around in her pajamas. I never found out until much later what that darned film was all about.
ES: Clearly, you were now fully integrated with Mabel.
CC: Not a bit of it. Due to the intervention of K and B, I was given the opening scene all to myself – you know the drunken lobby scene.
ES: Oh dear.
CC: Oh dear, yes! Mabel was livid and spitting blood, and she refused to speak to me, or work with me for six weeks (The intended first scene had been shot weeks earlier with Mabel at a hotel in Pasadena). I did see Mabel, however, when I was doing a love scene with Minta Arbuckle for Cruel, Cruel Love. It was a lovely sunny day, but all of a sudden, the heavens opened, and we were both soaked to the skin. We looked up, and there was Mabel astride the top of the set, laughing with an empty bucket in her hand.
“You silly pair of lovesick bastards!” She cackled.
Minta and Charlie before the heavens opened.
ES: So how did you come to appear in, what was it, Mabel At The Wheel?
CC: It’s a complicated story. Mack was trying to ditch me, and K and B wanted me to stay. Baumann came to L.A. personally but didn’t come to the studio – he sent his daughter, Ada, to appear in the picture. Mack sent me off to meet up with Mabel and Ada out in Santa Monica, but when I got there, I found the girls behind the camera.
CC: Yes, indeed. Of course, this got me hot under the collar, especially as Mabel had ordered that I was not to wear the tramp’s outfit. Then Mabel told me I was not there to do gags and slapstick – this was a different kind of film. I was confused. I was a gagster, a knock-about comic, so why was I there? Anyhow the story’s been told many times, but the upshot was that all hell broke loose, until Baumann waded in and read the riot act. After I’d knuckled down, everything was fine between Mabel and I, but there were members of the cast and crew that wanted to beat me to death for disrespecting their Queen.
ES: So, Mabel was the Queen then.
CC: Oh yeah, you must understand that every studio back then had a figurehead, someone, usually an actress, that represented the studio, and all the company looked up to that person. Mabel was Queen in those days, but later became a Goddess to us all in Hollywood. Every aspiring player wanted to go to whatever studio their favourite star was at.
Mabel’s bungalow dressing room with garden behind.
ES: I’ve heard you and Mabel then collaborated closely, and you became a permanent fixture at her dressing room.
CC: Everyone was a ‘fixture’ in Mabel’s life, it was as though we were players in some grand Mabel production. One of the advantages, though, of being ‘friendly’ with Mabel was unrestricted admission to her bungalow dressing room. This was our base from which we planned our flurries into film world. Mabel was a good teacher, but I didn’t learn just about film-making, for Mabel put me on a course of how to get along with people. I hadn’t been much liked at Karno’s and no-one thought much of me at Keystone, but Mabel told me some home truths:
“Charlie” She Said “You must learn to get along in this movie colony, or you’re toast. The producers are not your friends, and you must build relationships with the actors. Look at me. Like you, I’m an introvert, but I forced myself to be an extrovert, so that I could get along.”
That was the theory, and Mabel soon got me into the practical, and took me to endless parties and introduced me to everyone that was anyone in Hollywood. I felt like her pet dog, and I could almost feel the leash. She explained Keystone’s methods to me in detail, telling me how all the actors and actresses had trained at the Vitagraph, and under D.W. Griffith at Biograph. Basically, the Keystones were burlesques or send-ups of Griffith films, which had been full of helpless women either wringing their hands or tearing their hair. The Keystone audience understood this ‘disrespect’ implicitly, and loved it. This explained why Mabel would run onto the set and commence all the hand wringing and hair-tearing. In fact, she could run onto the set and do anything and perfectly – first time. Many years later, I would remember this, as I struggled with my 200th take. My explanation of this unique ability is that Mabel was a phenomenon, a once-only personality that turned up, maybe, every thousand years. When she ran it looked as though she was on wheels, and she never got into a car or Indian canoe, she simply poured herself in.
Alice Davenport is less than pleased with Mabel and her canine friend.
ES: I’m intrigued by her Mabel’s Strange Predicament character. Did she explain this to you?
CC: Oh yeah, when I questioned her, she half-smiled and said:
“You don’t get it Charlie, do you?”
I confessed I didn’t.
“I was playing an actress – you know a ‘bad girl’, a scarlet woman, which was why I had a dog in my bedroom.”
Now I realised why Alice Davenport looked at Mabel so so disparagingly, as she took her dog into the hotel room. Keystone audiences, of course, clearly understood what was going on – girl, dog, pajamas, bedroom. Marie Lloyd had nothing on Mabel in this respect.
ES: So, innuendo was a part of Keystone’s methodology?
CC: Indeed, along with burlesque and assorted nonsense. The innuendo worked like this. Mabel could never be presented as anything but pure and wholesome, so everything had to be in the eye (or mind) of the beholder. Mabel could never reveal her legs nor her bosom, unless it was ‘accidental’. For instance, when I lifted her skirt in Getting Acquainted, or when she exposed her upper thighs giving me the high kick in Mabel’s Busy Day. ‘Accidental’ also, was the exposure of her cleavage in Spanish Dilemma, where she surreptitiously undid her blouse, under cover of picking a flower.
ES: The upshot was, you got along well with Mabel and did around a dozen films with her.
CC: Eleven, I think, and everyone a winner. I was a pure slap-sticker back then, but Mabel showed me how to bring tragedy and drama into the pictures. She was, of course, a trained dramatic actress – trained by none other than D.W. Griffith. Her ability as a tragedienne came naturally, as did her comedy. Sennett tried to limit the amount of melancholy she introduced into her pictures, but I went along with it, as she allowed me endless slapstick and knockabout comedy. It was give-and-take. For instance, Mabel’s Busy Day saw Mabel bring melancholy to her vending girl character, but she also piled in with my slapstick / ass-kicking, and ran around waving a big knife.
Mabel gives as good as she gets. Mabel’s Busy Day
ES: I think you kicked Mabel in the derriere at least two-dozen times and punched her in the face once or twice.
CC: Oh yes, and I once kicked her in the stomach, which caused a great furore among her fans. In fact, I regularly received threats by letter, informing me that I’d be killed “if I ever harmed one hair on that girl’s head.” In fact, I never intended to put her in that position, she chose it for herself.
ES: Please explain.
CC: I had the prerogative, given by Kessell and Baumann to do whatever I wanted. I was a pawn, to be precise, in the battle between K and B and Sennett. Mabel assumed that this also applied to her, and she introduced lots of melancholy, but wanted to be in the thick of the brick and ironing-board throwing, as well.
ES: I remember. Didn’t she once hit you over the head with an ironing board.
CC: That’s right, in His Trysting Place, a film about good old American married bliss, where she also threw a china bowl in my face.
ES: Did you ever tire of working with Mabel – I see you did twenty films with other actresses.
CC: No, I never tired of her, and there were benefits to being with her. A dressing room heater in the cold weather, a drive downtown in a company car, when we got bored – I could never have got away with that on my own. In any case, the Keystone cars were immobilised in some way, but Mabel always got under the hood, fiddled with something and ‘Hey Presto’ they started up . One other advantage was free dinners with Sennett.
ES: Free dinners?
CC: Yes – Sennett had spies under Mabel’s windows, and heard that we’d been getting a little amorous, so he took us to dinner every night, just to keep an eye on us. It never worked, for the old guy always fell asleep after the meal, and we’d skip off for a couple of hours.
ES: To the back row of a picture house, no doubt?
CC: Well, that’s for me to know, and for you to find out! Anyhow getting back to the other actresses, Mabel was great, perhaps a little too great. On set she made me look small – you should never appear with the best, even if you learn something every time. I also thought she was impinging on my ground i.e. pure slapstick, which was unusual for a female. If this carried on she’d leave me with nothing, and in fact, they were starting to call me Mr. Mabel Normand. I called in Mack Sennett to help in The Fatal Mallet, where we managed to surround her, and crimp her style a little. In around August, I decided to leave Mabel’s crib and exclusively utilise lesser actresses. In particular, I used Peggy Page, a plain-faced, but pretty girl with a good body. She did everything I asked and never ventured any ideas.
ES: So, what did Mabel think about that?
CC: She was not amused, and I detected a change in her attitude towards me. Anyhow, about this time, K and B had the idea of a six-reel feature film, and Mabel and I got very excited about it. Imagine our dismay, when Mack was unable to get us into the lead. K and B brought in Marie Dressler from the stage, and we had to play second fiddle.
ES: Mabel didn’t appear until the second reel, if I remember rightly.
CC: That’s right. Mabel elected not to appear in the first part, which made me suspicious. That first reel was all slapstick, and I suspected Mabel had something special planned.
ES: That’s interesting, tell me more.
CC: Well, Mabel was playing the part of a crook’s moll, and she’d decided to milk the part for all it was worth. The clothes she wore were way over the top, and she even had a massive fur hand-muff in the hottest part of the L.A. summer.
ES: A typical low-class girl, then, who’d found riches as a gangster’s moll?
CC: Exactly, but she had more ammunition in her box – the famous close up. Now, I knew nothing of this until we saw the finished film downtown. Mabel organised this one-off scene, in which so much light was shone onto her face that her eyes looked blue, or pale on monochrome film. She’d decided to use klieg lights for this, and poor old Mabel went blind for about four days.
Mabel lit like you’ve never seen her lit before.
ES: Panic stations, obviously.
CC: You’d better believe it. We were all worried for her, but let me tell you something. If Mabel had been lost anytime before 1917, the whole studio would have folded. As luck would have it, she recovered, and not for the first time. She must have carried out a hundred highly dangerous stunts between 1911 and 1927, yet she always survived. In Tillies, Mabel played a part that she’d never played before, but, in the last half of the film, she reverted to The Keystone Girl, wearing that maid’s outfit.
ES: Wow! Wasn’t she something in that outfit?
CC: Oh yes, she got a few hearts racing, including mine, when we had that passionate kiss. I was the envy of the whole world.
ES: Yes, but in that passionate scene, didn’t she kiss you on the neck – gave you, what do you Brits call it? A love bite?
CC: Very observant of you Mr. Interviewer. It was like this. The Keystone Girl could never properly kiss a man on the lips – it was verboten by order of our Furher, Mack Sennett. People wondered why anyone would kiss my neck, saying I had a big ‘tide mark’ around it. Well, I may not have washed too often, but neither did Clara Bow.
“Necking eh? I’ll kill the bitch!”
ES: Mabel, of course, had a marble bath in her dressing room.
CC: That was later, but she did have one of those tin bath things.
ES: Which you shared?
CC: I don’t answer questions like that, my good man.
ES: Minta has said that Mabel used to buy you shirt, tie and cuff-link sets – you know, those cellophane-wrapped packs.
CC: That’s true, it was only later that I learned that she was upset that I never changed my clothes. Those shirt packs were meant as a kind of wake-up call, but I was oblivious to dirt, and I’d never heard the word ‘bath’ until you mentioned it just now!
ES: Getting back to Tillies, what do you think of the final released film?
CC: I think it had little merit, and I was underplayed in it, as well as squeezed between Marie and Mabel, so that I almost disappeared. They shone, I didn’t.
ES: Was this when you thought about leaving Keystone?
CC: It had occurred to me, but the idea scared me to death. I’d decided to put Mabel at arm’s length, but was afraid to lose sight of her, in case I needed her. However, I reckoned now that I should secure the use of Peggy Page, as this would ‘big me up’ on screen – just in case I had to leave. I soon discovered what a fierce competitor Mabel was, when demands came to co-star her in my next few films. Prior to Tillies, she’d already usurped Gentlemen of Nerve from Peggy, and I was helpless to do anything. Peggy kinda fell apart, although Mack put her in the film as an extra, along with her mother, who held the poor girl’s hand throughout.
Peggy (check coat) is not happy with playing second fiddle to Mabel.
ES: I heard somewhere that the Page family (Peggy, Gladys and their mother) were furious about Mabel trying to curtail Peggy’s career.
CC: You’re correct. The whole Page gang turned up for the shoot, vowing to ‘get’ Mabel. However, Mabel was not stupid, and carried a box-handbag throughout the picture – just big enough to accommodate a Derringer. Turned out the Pages were the Carruthers family, a gold-digging clan from Texas. It was later that Peggy married a German Baron, but while in New York in 1925, I heard that the baroness had tumbled from a hotel window, just down the street, and died. Mabel got me for Getting Acquainted, but she pulled out of my final film, His Prehistoric Past, as it involved wearing a grass skirt, which would have messed with her image.
ES: So, Sennett refused to renew your contract for the appropriate sum of shekels, and you waved goodbye.
CC: Not exactly. I asked Sennett for $1,000 a week, but he said the company had only agreed to $750. I said I’d think about it. Sennett went to his desk drawer and pulled out a Colt .45, saying:
“I think negotiations are over, don’t you Charlie?”
I quickly agreed and made a smart exit. I had, of course, realised this might happen, so I’d sent for my brother Syd, to come over from England and be my manager.
ES: Presumably, you had plenty of offers, and Syd soon got to work on them.
CC: Hell, no. Sennett signed Syd up, and I was left all alone among the sharks!
ES: And Mabel…..?
CC: I really had to escape Mabel’s clutches — what with Sennett roaming L.A. with that .45. I figured that 2,000 miles was a respectable distance, so I was glad to sign with Essanay in Chicago.
ES: And you told her of your deal with ‘Broncho’ Billy and Essanay.
CC: Did I have to? Mabel knew everyone in the business, and was personally acquainted with Broncho Billy.
Happy daze for Charlie and Mabel, before the dark clouds descended on them.
ES: I see in Mabel’s mini-autobiography of 1924, that you met up for a final dinner, before you left for Essanay.
CC: Yes, and I know you’re wondering why I didn’t mention it in my book. Unfortunately, I’m feeling very drained by all of this, so you’ll forgive me if I stop there. Perhaps you’ll come back in six months’ time when I’ve recovered.
ES: Okay Charlie, but can you sum Mabel up for us in a few words?
CC: A few words …. are you joking my good chap!? Right here goes:
Charming, fascinating, obstinate, ethereal, egocentric, altruistic, bright, lovely, crude, vulgar, intellectual, disarming, maddening, endearing, and a total madcap.
ES: That’s fine Charlie, but I recognise some of these traits from Mary’s description of you.
CC: Tells you something, doesn’t it?
Looking For Mabel Normand: http://www.freewebs.com/looking-for-mabel/. Site maintained by Marilyn Slater.
Behind the Screen by Samuel Goldwyn (1923).
King of Comedy by Mack Sennett (1954).
Sunshine and Shadow by Mary Pickford (1956).
When the Movies Were Young by Linda Griffith (1924).
Mabel Normand’s Own Life Story Madcap Mabel by Chandler Sprague. Los Angeles Examiner (February 17, 1924).
Madcap Mabel by Sidney Sutherland: Liberty Magazine, September 6, 1930.