When Charlie Chaplin was canceled — by the American government

On Sept. 17, 1952, Charlie Chaplin, his wife Oona and their four children boarded the Queen Elizabeth on their way to England for the European premiere of his latest film, “Limelight.”

One day out of New York, Chaplin was handed a press release from the Department of Justice: “Attorney General James P. McGranery announced today that he had issued orders to the Immigration and Naturalization Service to hold for hearing Charles Chaplin when he seeks to re-enter this country. The hearing will determine whether he is admissible under the laws of the United States.” 

An accompanying statement said that the attorney general had taken the action under a provision permitting the barring of resident aliens on grounds of “morals, health or insanity, or for advocating Communism or associating with Communist or pro-Communist organizations.” 

The most famous comedian in the world had just been canceled. 

Ten days after Chaplin’s re-entry permit was yanked, deputy Immigration and Naturalization Service (INS) commissioner Raymond Farrell admitted in a meeting that the INS “did not have sufficient information to exclude Chaplin from the United States … In the end, there is no doubt Chaplin would be admitted,” if only because he had never been convicted of any crime.

But Chaplin’s back was up. He would not appeal his case and would not come back to America for 20 years. When he did return, it would be on his own terms. 

On Oct. 3, Attorney General McGranery held a press conference during which he referred to the banishment as a question of “morals” and called Chaplin “a menace to womanhood.”

In fact, the government’s action was the culmination of a dozen years of organized, concerted character assassination on the part of the FBI, the INS, the Justice Department and a mélange of right-wing columnists in New York and Hollywood: Hedda Hopper, Florabel Muir, Westbrook Pegler, Ed Sullivan.

Chaplin’s thought crimes began with the premature anti-fascism of 1940’s “The Great Dictator.” The film was as much a provocation as a movie, a satire of fascism made at a time when majorities in both Congress and the American public were firmly in the isolationist camp.

After Dec. 7, 1941, when the attack on Pearl Harbor catapulted America into World War II, Chaplin began making speeches urging the opening of a second front to aid Russia, our ally at the time, which aroused the rage of those who believed Russia could never be an ally, only an enemy in waiting.

Complicating matters was a paternity suit brought by a young woman whom Chaplin had had an affair with after the great success of “The Great Dictator.” Although a blood test proved he wasn’t the father of the child, Chaplin lost the case anyway.

By the time the paternity case was over, Chaplin had married Oona O’Neill, the 18-year-old daughter of Eugene O’Neill, which seemed to confirm the public’s darkest fantasies. The marriage, however, would last the rest of Chaplin’s life and eventually produce eight children.

Finally, in 1947, Chaplin released “Monsieur Verdoux,” a black comedy before black comedy was invented — Chaplin’s first critical and commercial flop, a definitive example of the wrong movie at the wrong time.

Throughout this period, Chaplin’s personal and corporate taxes were closely examined, his phone tapped, his mail opened, his house staked out, his friends, enemies and ex-wives all interviewed at length. By 1952, the FBI knew that Chaplin paid his taxes, had never been a member of the Communist Party and hadn’t donated a dime to the cause. Nevertheless, they persisted until Harry Truman’s attorney general pulled the trigger. 

By 1952, Hollywood was in the grip of the Red Scare, and few were willing to speak on behalf of Chaplin. In all of Hollywood, only three people publicly came to his defense: producer Sam Goldwyn, director William Wyler and actor Cary Grant. 

All this is by way of pointing out that everything happening in America today has happened before, and will undoubtedly happen again. As the political and entertainment worlds gradually descend to the level of a Mardi Gras for morons, cultural and political repression has become a recurring infection against which the antibodies of logic and fact seem helpless. Today, conformist pressure comes from both sides of the political spectrum. The left is motivated by moral vanity, while the right is propelled by authoritarian instincts and often backed by the power of the state. 

As for Charlie Chaplin, he had the considerable satisfaction of outliving his enemies as well as their oceanic propaganda. In 1972, five years before his death, he returned to America to receive an honorary Academy Award, where he received the longest standing ovation in Oscar history.

But the Hollywood he had known was gone forever. On his 1972 return, he was appalled. “It’s nothing but banks, banks, banks,” he said.

Scott Eyman’s book “Charlie Chaplin vs. America: When Art, Sex and Politics Collided” will be published October 31 from Simon & Schuster.