Customer Reviews

W C Fields

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The most famous quote by W. C. Fields is, "Any man who hates dogs and children can't be all bad." The trouble is, it wasn't said by him. It was said about him by, of all things, an anthropologist who was studying the motion picture industry. And it was not close to true about Fields. Among the many pleasing revelations in _W. C. Fields: A Biography_ (Knopf) by James Curtis is that Fields was not inimical to children. Oh, he didn't like dogs very much, but he owned a few and didn't put up objections against the species. And he didn't like Baby Leroy, the child co-star most associated with him. The [child] was terrified by Fields's appearance and could burst into tears at any scene, and it does seem to be true that Fields spiked the nipper's orange juice with gin to make him more a trouper. But throughout Fields's life he was partial to children. Will Rogers's son remembered Fields as a guest for dinner, both because he took time to talk to the boy, and because he juggled the brand new imported glass plates for his entertainment; his mother was not as well pleased. Watching kids at an Indian reservation play ball, he saw them using a wad of tape for a ball and a stick for a bat; he had an Indian pal buy full equipment, but warned, "If you tell a soul I did this, ...I'll never supply you with any more booze." He ingratiated himself to young Freddie Bartholomew, who played David Copperfield as a boy, by asking, "Tell me, son, are you a midget or am I overgrown?"

The stories about Fields and children are scattered throughout this large and detailed volume. It might be that they were a reaction against his own childhood, but that childhood was not as bad as he liked to make it seem. He early discovered he had a genius for juggling, and began imitating the comic tramp juggler acts he would see on the vaudeville circuit. He began talking more during the performances, conquering a stammer and forming a habit of ad libs that was to be a blessing and a curse throughout his career. He did less juggling as he worked in more legitimate theater, like the Ziegfeld Follies in which he performed from 1915 - 1925. He concentrated on sketches that emphasized physical comedy and his perpetual warfare against inanimate objects, like the family car, twisted pool cues and floppy golf clubs. Such performances were incorporated into his films, the best of which often were only excuses for a series of sketches. He had done some silent films, but worked in Hollywood full time starting when he was all of fifty-one years old. He had strong friendships, but a terrible marriage. His death at age 66 in 1946 was hastened by the alcohol he loved; he had drunk very moderately while his juggling act depended on superb coordination. His intake became legendary, and a part of his persona, and a recurrent joke that he himself enjoyed. He did not, though, play drunks on screen, however much the characters imbibed, and he was ashamed of those who let alcohol degrade their film work.

This is a thorough and engrossing biography of an American character who still matters. Not only are there detailed descriptions of life on the theatrical road and the difficulties of motion picture production in the 1940s, but there are insights into many of the characters with whom Fields worked. Memorable among these is Edgar Bergen, a shy and reticent man, who used his wooden alter ego, Charlie McCarthy to insult others and fight battles. The famous Fields - McCarthy radio duels are here shown to be surprisingly personal. There have been few Hollywood performers who have deliberately perverting such American ideals as industriousness and generosity; screen comics now may be tasteless, but they are not subversive. Fields risked pushing his audience away with all manner of not just exaggerated shortcomings but also vices, and allowed his comic creations to be held inseparable from his own personality. There is no one else who could have put the holiday advertisement in _Variety_, as he did in 1928: "Happy New Year to almost everybody."

Finally, THE definitive biography of one of the most revered figures ever to appear on the world stage or step before a motion picture camera. While there've been almost two dozen books about Fields published already, (mostly filmographies, quote books, picture books or screenplays,) this collection is essential for several important reasons.

First of all, it's one of the best biographies of a film personality ever written. Head and shoulders above Simon Louvish's sluggish "MAN ON THE FLYING TRAPEZE", more ambitious than Ronald J. Fields' collection of letters and radio scripts: "W.C. FIELDS BY HIMSELF," on a literary par with Robert Lewis Taylor's brilliant "W.C. FIELDS: HIS FOLLIES AND FORTUNES," (but without that author's fictional flights of fancy,) James Curtis turns out to be the ideal biographer of the iconoclastic comedian.

Setting the record straight regarding volumes of Fieldsian apocrypha, the legend remains intact whilst the enigmatic man behind it emerges for perhaps the first time in print.

Full of nostalgia, fascinating revelations about Fields' working methods and creative approach to filmmaking, scandalous professional behavior, revealing personal data, heretofore unsuspected alliances, (It comes as no surprise that Fields was a fan and drinking pal of his tempermental soulmate, H.L. Mencken.) and many, many wonderful anecdotes.

The ideal book to curl up with on a winter's eve, (when it ain't a fit night out for man nor beast,) with the necessary pitcher-full of your favorite "snake bite remedy," as Fields would say. (He'd also recommend you always carry a small snake...) A worthy tribute to a giant of American comedy. ***** 5 stars, easy.

James Curtis offers a well-researched and engagingly written biography of one of the most enigmatic figures ever to appear in the entertainment business. W.C. Fields was one of the most talented, yet underused (by contemporary definition) performers in show business, whether in vaudeville, burlesque, Broadway, Hollywood or radio. Originally a physical performer (juggling) before evolving into a diverse comedian and actor, Fields spent his entire life developing a unique public persona that became, in all appearances, to be the private man as well. Mr. Curtis paints a textured portrait of a man by turns, remarkably generous, yet often parsimonious, stubbornly difficult, yet frequently courtly and gracious.

The book focuses on Mr. Fields personal life to a level rarely reached in more traditional biographies. The chapters on Field's childhood and early days in show business provide tremendous insight on the man he would become and explain the contradictory nature of the man. There is a sense of tragedy of a great man who begins to fade, both in physical abilities and later, mental acuity, consumed by alcoholism, an unhappy marriage and a number of failed personal relationships. The book reads like a novel as Mr. Curtis blends description and dialogue seamlessly throughout the 600+ pages.

I was struck by the revelations of W.C. Fields personal graciousness and generosity as most previous biographies of the man portray him as a rather one-dimensional caricature. Yet, like most great talents, Fields was an incredibly complex man. This biography does him, nearly 60 years after his death, justice.

Pardon my redundancy, but this is a great book. Having shown his proficiency at film biography in the past (if you have not opened your purses to acquire his previous tomes on James Whale and Preston Sturges-get them NOW!! [you lugs]), Curtis supersedes all previous attempts with William Claude Dukinfield and gets to the palpitating heart of this truly sad and angry clown.
Cutting through all the myth and legend, which has overshadowed Fields prodigious talents ever since his death in 1946, Curtis talks about the Dickensian childhood, the ultimate triumph on the stage, the marriage that neither party seems to have really worked on, the drinking (which was quite widespread amongst so many in vaudeville, only Fields knew how to use the persona to his advantage), the wonderful films and just how the comic really felt about dogs and children. After digesting this extremely well-researched and pungently written book, one comes away with the feeling that the W. C. Fields that has become universally known mostly through the famous picture of him playing poker or via imitators who cannot even come close to his character is only an infinitesimal part of him. This book presents a human being that was full of flaws, most of which he created to protect himself from a world that he fought tooth and nail. The Fields that was on the screen (especially the masterpiece IT'S A GIFT, one of the greatest comedies ever made, if not one of the greatest films) is not just the cliche drunken ogre that people remember from the late show, but a person full of hurt who could also show a tender side-see the chapter on NEVER GIVE A SUCKER AN EVEN BREAK for a deleted scene with Fields at the deathbed of a female character-without being false.
I love this book, and it makes a fine companion to grandson Ronald's book of the material Fields was gathering for his own autobiography (another book worth looking for). The two best books on film history so far this year have been about the great curmudgeons the screen has given us (Fields and Sam Fuller) who also had life and spirit which is constantly shown in the greatness of their work. Let this be the definitive work on the greatest comedian of the sound era.

If you want to know what Bill Fields had for lunch on a particular day, chances are the information is in this incredibly detailed book.

More to the point it turns out he was almost entirely different from what most people (including me) thought. He was (1) extremely hard working & disciplined, (2) very smart and well read, (3) surprisingly kind and considerate, expecially given the very hard life he had. While he ad libbed his lines, his best routines were rehearsed to perfection. And he didn't hate children...only babies. He DID despise politicians--in short, he was a great guy.

Unfortunately, his greatest accomplishments, Its A Gift and The Bank Dick, came late in his career (and 300 pages into the book) so if you're not interested in Vaudeville you're in for a long read.

All in all a fascinating story of a man who took what life gave him (nothing) and, realizing life is NOT a bowl of cherries, made us all laugh at the way people really behave and the way things often turn out.

The funniest guy who ever lived? I think so. Do yourself a favor and hunt down You're Telling Me and Its A Gift. And of course The Bank Dick. And...please don't touch those lightbulbs, Mr. Muckle!

There have been several memorable biographies about The Great Man, yet James Curtis' "W.C. Fields" (2003) surpasses them all. For once, Curtis separates the reality from the mythology. The result is a more balanced portrait that includes a surprising amount of previously unknown information, particularly in regard to the comedian's radio work and his final years. Curtis has written a valuable chronicle of a truly original artist whose wit and serio-comic wisdom remain embedded in America's cultural landscape.

I've been a fan of W.C. Fields since my youth. There was always something about him, a certain style that he had on screen, that was unique.

This book does tell the truth behind the real W.C., and dispells many of the myths that still are current about him. He was a man that was in turn cantankerous, gentle, funny and poignant.

I for one never realized that he was such an avid reader. Books seemed to be his passion, and all during his world travels as a vaudeville juggler he carried trunks of books along the way. Anyone that reads so voraciously is bound to be an interesting personality. His vast reading no doubt contributed to his comedy that involved the word play for which he is famous. It is astounding to know that for many years in the early part of his career when he was a juggler, that he did his act in almost total silence!

A great biography that reveals the unique character that was W.C. Fields. Written in a very readable style, we can learn about this man, warts and all through this book.

Highly recommended!

I became a fan of W.C. Fields when I aw a double-feature of "The Bank Dick" and "Never Give A Sucker An even Break" while I was in college, and a fan I have remained ever since. I have read three previous biographies, but this latest one is the best by far (definitely an improvement on "The Man On The Flying Trapeze"). We are given more detail, and more intimate information than was previously available, and the book delves deeply into the behind-the-scenes making of Fields' famous pictures, including the two-reelers, a few of which I possess. He was a more complicated man than most people know, and certainly more of one than they learned from other books about him. Not only is this his biography, but it takes us through vaudeville, burlesque, Ziegfield, and the early movies, both silent and talkies. There are also the forays into radio, and the "feud" with Charlie McCarthy. It's a well-written and well-rounded work, and may remain the definitive biography for a long time to come.

What a great read. With so many revelations about Fields' early days, you're half way through the book before you ever get to the familiar area of his talking pictures. With so much working against him, it is absolutely inspiring that he accomplished so much. Why, oh why did movie directors and producers accept the fact that Fields knew comedy but were usually so loath to accept his ideas. It is a sad tale but Fields did live well for most of his life. The author does try to be fair to all parties and so we have a story of man who took the cards that were dealt him. And if he occasionally had a card up his sleeve, well, that's Fields. If God counts the smiles that a man creates for others on this Earth then, like it or not, Fields is juggling halos.

Enjoyed W.C. FIELDS, a biography by James Curtis about one
of the greatest comedians in the world . . . his career spanned the
whole of the twentieth century--in burlesque, vaudeville, the
legitimate stage, silent pictures, talkies, radios, books, and
recordings . . . only his death prevented him from also working
in television.

Fields was a man of contradictions . . . he could write brilliant
dialogue, yet manage to ad lib something hilarious . . . he was
generous with friends, though incredibly stingy with his own
family . . . he could be a pleasure to work with at times, but quite
often, he was a real pain in the (bottom).

I hadn't know all that much about him . . . now I do and found out
that his drinking was actually even worse than I had heard about.

A series of accompanying photos from different aspects
of Fields' life contributed to my enjoyment of this book.

There were several memorable passages; among them:
Comedy, Bill Fields would say, is truth--a bit of artful reality,
expressed in action or words, carefully exaggerated and brought to
a surprise finish. Fields didn't think the mechanics of a gag counted
for half as much as the sound behind it. You might coax a laugh
from a willing audience over most anything, but a gag wouldn't be
memorable without the delight of human recognition.

Booze had not yet become and integral part of the act, but Fields
made such bald-faced exaggerations in print that he was widely
thought to have an unlimited capacity. "I'm and advocate of
moderation," he told Jack Grant in Movie Classic magazine.
"For example, I never drink before breakfast. During the morning,
I have 15 or 20 highballs. Then comes lunch. But I don't eat
lunch. Bad for the waistline. I drink it instead-oh say, a gallon
of cocktails. In the afternoon, which is longer that the morning, I
have possibly 30 or 40 highballs. With dinner, I have ten or twelve
bottles of wine or something to drink. In the evening, like a case
of sherry or maybe 50 to 60 highballs." A more reliable account
of Fields' drinking came in 1951 from Norman McLeod. "After
breakfast he downed a solid glass of bourbon with one-half inch
of water in it," he told columnist Ezra Goodman. "He said he didn't
want to discolor the bourbon. He had four or five of these until
noon, He drank on the set. He was on of the few actors I knew of
who was allowed to drink on the set. Then he had lunch. After
lunch-he always ate big meals-he began imbibing again at 2:30.
He would have four or five more bourbons until 5 p.m. At 5 p.m.
he started on martinis. He'd have five or six martinis-he made a
very good martini-before dinner. He was never drunk unless
he consumed liquor after dinner. If he did, he went back to bourbon."

[Spec McClure, Hedda Hopper's leg man]
Fields was the only man or woman I ever saw who stopped the whole
set when he went into a scene. I remember one scene-a rather long

shot-at 20th in which the idiot board could not be used, nor could
Fields remember his lines. So on each take he simply improvised,
making each one vastly different. The usually bored crew, technicians,
and everybody else on the stage crowded close to observe the maestro
as he went into action. I have also seen him so drunk that two men
were required to get him into position on the set, but when "action"
was called he marvelously came to life and went through the
scene without a hitch. An assistant stood on the sidelines with
a quart malted-milk glass filled with martini in case Fields got
thirsty. This was no gag, as everyone had great respect for the
old trouper and nobody thought his leaning on gin funny. Of
course, never wrote up such things as I could feel the life
weariness in the man-and I'd never been let back on the stage
if I had.