Part 7 - DW062 001 026 007

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7 There is a "discussion" going on at the moment, in places like the Greater Lon- don Council, and the corres- pondence columns of "The Times" - places far removed from everyday life - about the question of a "monument" to Charlie Chaplin. But the question of a suit- able monument to Chaplin concerns us, too - are we happy that one of the great men of the twentieth century, a great champion of the poor, and spokesman for the moral values and decency of the common man, should end up as a "plaque in Westminster Abbey" as some have suggested? Chaplin's roots as a creat- ive artist were firmly groun- ded in the best traditions of the English theatre: not the artificial, glittering, super- ficial world of the West End and its lifeless trivialities, but the honest, outspoken and "vulgar" world of the music hall, the theatre of the working masses. When he went to America, his early experi- ences with the developing financial power structure of Hollywood, showed him that CH there could be only one way of making sure that his ideals were not perverted, that his ambitions as an artist could bear fruit, and that was by self-reliance. This led to the formation, by Chaplin and some other independent-minded film-makers, of the United Artists company. Chaplin's films show to mill- ions of people the essential humanity and optimism of the common man - of life itself - has become one of the best known characters in the world today, and will continue to be so, despite its creator's death. The results are so well- known, and so beloved of the people throughout the world, as to require no detailed des- cription: The character of "The Tramp", who has represented to mill- In other famous films, too, such as "Modern Times" and RLIE "The Great Dictator", Chaplin directed a sharp and merci- less satire against the meth- ods of big business and its brainchild, fascism. Such films played their vital part in the World United Front against fascism, which resul- ted in the utter rout of Hit- ler in the Second World War. However, after the war, the message contained in such scenes as the one in "The Great Dictator" where "Adenoid Hinkel" shows his insane amb- ition of conquering the world by dancing a mad ballet with an inflatable globe, became too uncomfortable for the big financial interests in the USA, from whom Chaplin still maintained his healthy inde- pendence. For now it was they, them- selves who had taken over "Hinkel's" ambition of world conquest, sending troops to all corners of the globe to further their attempts at do- mination. While on a trip abroad, Chaplin had his pass- port cancelled, and he decided to make his home in Europe. But, like another great artist whose career showed close par- allels with his own - Paul Robeson - Chaplin did not give up the fight, as can be seen from his film "A King in New York". In the end, as is well known, the pressure of world popular opinion, and the struggles of the peoples whom US big busi- ness sought to conquer, beca- me too powerful, and the US government was forced to aban- don its McCarthyist, cold war, fascistic tactics; Chaplin was able to return to America, In the meantime whatever the outcome of the deliberations of those "at the top" over a monument for Chaplin - if, any Sunday morning, you go to East Street, off the Old Kent Road, where he was born, you will find a large and thriving street market. There, in the hubbub and cla- mour of the poor people of Lon- don, you will find the life, the optimism, the wit which Chaplin stood for. There, ar- ound you, you will find his real monument. Written by a railway worker, the story begins in 1925... OUR TIMES Waiting for the train lit tle Katie reflected on the atmosphere of the great ex- panse of the London stat- ion; smoke, steam, whistles, the smell of burning coal, man in uniform hurrying a- round. She had been in the big station before with her Mum. The memory of the place had never left her, she liked it very much. Just like a town inside, you could get any- thing behind its high thick walls, tea, food, books and even beer. This always brought on a secure feeling, everything seemed so under control, the railwaymen looking quite stern but real- ly quite friendly. When the guard blew the whistle, waved his green flag, the train huffed out. It was all so steadfast, as if nothing in the world could stop it pulling out 'on the dot'. The railwaymen, smiling and giving her the odd wink made Katie wonder, "Do they know I'm being taken to a children's home?" Oh! She thought reflecting on the sight she presented - the tall, plainly dressed wo- man 'from the church' who held her hand; the label tied to her shabby coat. "It's a dead giveaway" thought Katie, "they know allright!" "Come on young lady", said the woman 'from the church', "this is the train". On entering the train, Katie noticed the red and green carpet. "We never had such a good carpet on our floor indoors" she thought, "I'd like to give that carpet to Mum. Still, couldn't do that, it's got the railways name worked in- to it". "Give me your bag". The woman 'from the church' in a clear cut voice, cut into Katie's thoughts. "No! rang out Katie's voice sharply. Then dropp- ing its tone, she added, "I' ll hang on to my bag, please Miss". She was sure that if she let go of the paper carrier- bag, it would either get sto- len or forgotten when they got off the train, some- thing like that. Mum had drummed it into her - don't forget you've got that new pullover in there". The woman 'from the church' paused with one hand on Katie's bag. Her atti- tude softened. She seemed to understand the importance Katie of keeping hold of her bag. "Alright dear, you look after it" she said. With huge puffs of steam from the engine the large train began to roll out of the station. Its slow power- ful pull was interrupted at odd times with a machinegun burst of steam as the dri- ver opened the throttle to hurry the huge monster for- ward. The carriage took on a side to side movement which fitted perfectly with the 'clack-clack' of the wheels -outside fields of houses and streets; bricks, cement and slates. But only the engine's wheels screached and skidd- ed forward, the train itself seemed to take its own time building up speed. The puff of the engine got quicker and quieter as the speed built up and then switched to a swift steady 'clack- clack' as the wheel passed over the rail joint; only a tell-tail swish of smoke let the passengers know the engine was still up at the front at all. Those far away from the train seemed to hang still, while those just below the train embankment rushed past at great speed. They were exactly the same - two storey with a black slated sloping roof, small yard and tiny brick cupboard-like lavatory. At first Katie could not pick out much detail, but she found that by concentrating her eyes on a 'line of fire' such as upstairs windows, kitchen windows or lavatory doors she could see right into the inside of the houses. Katie wondered about people all in their own little homes, thinking they alone were doing the same things, like the woman in a pinafore washing up in the kitchen and others making beds upstairs. away for fear of missing something .... flashing windows, doors and brick- work ....and all the time people on their own or in groups, young, old and middle-aged. Then just as suddenly as the noise of the engine ceased, so the scenery abruptly changed and the train went charg- ing through open country. Green fields, an odd house here and there, Katie found she could look at them leisurely. There was no more need to concentrate, and Katie relaxed. She became bored looking out of the window and again allowed her mind to wander, "Is there really a God?" Miss Knuckleunder, her teacher, had said "God was every- where". This business of God being everywhere always bothered Katie, looking, listening. Her thoughts took an aggressive turn "So what, let him know everything. He can make what he likes of it. He can't do nothing to me until I'm dead any- way. All the time I spent praying to him to make things nice for my family and look what's happened. I don't think he's there at all", she decided. Katie's thoughts rolled on. Tommy would never be able to look after little Mickey in that home....it was all too much for her ....and she slowly dropped into the world of nothingness. (To be continued).

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