W C Fields

One of Hollywood's legendary stars, W.C. Fields, almost invariably played an untrustworthy, misanthropic, alcoholic braggart. Many people believe he was merely playing himself--a screen character he perfected while living in the Valley. Fields was born in Philadelphia in 1879, ran away from home at 11, and by 15 was working as a full-time juggler for $5 a week. By 1915, he was starring in the Ziegfeld Follies, placing him among the leading stars of the Broadway stage.

A comic powerhouse W.C. Fields was one of the top comedic stars of vaudeville, Broadway and film, starring in such classics as 1934's "It's a Gift" and 1940's "The Bank Dick. " Fields also found success on radio. Back in 1936, Fields was in the hospital after a bike accident and his battle with the bottle. When he was still too shaky to return to films, he went to work on radio in 1937 on "The Chase and Sanborn Hour" hosted by ventriloquist Edgar Bergen and his puppet alter-ego, Charlie McCarthy.

"Start every day off with a smile and get it over with." W.C. Fields * The image of W.C. Fields in most people's minds is a caricature: the top-hatted, hard-drinking, bulbous-nosed crook and swindler who loved to say "my little chickadee," "never give a sucker an even break" and "Godfrey Daniel," his euphemism for swearing.

Not every movie produced by the Hollywood studios during the Golden Age was tied up in neat little bows; it wasn't all boy meets girl, boy loses girl, boy gets girl. "Films were more edgy and involved characters that were less than perfect," says UCLA film professor Jonathan Kuntz. "Certainly in the 1930s with the Great Depression, there was a lot of disillusionment with the establishment and society. World War II shook everything up and all kinds of crazy things happen."

All great comedians are one-of-a-kind, but W.C. Fields was so idiosyncratic that he was positively Dickensian (he even appeared in the movie version of Dickens' "David Copperfield"). Producer Bob Weide was reciting a famous Fields line--"I was in love with a beautiful blond. She drove me to drink. It's the one thing I'm indebted to her for"--and said at the end, "You know, you can't even quote Fields without using his twang." Weide was discussing the making of his Fields documentary, "W.C.

W C. Fields is arguably the most popular comedian of the early sound-film era and MCA, owner of the Universal film library, is issuing many of his best films in pristine black-and-white laser video editions, infinitely superior to the faded 16-millimeter prints long seen on broadcast television. The misanthropic, bulbous-nosed, eccentric ruffian never looked or sounded so good.

At 11, he ran away from home after a violent fight with his father. He spent several months living on the streets on the verge of starvation, stealing to survive. Frequently, on the losing end of street fights, he spent many a night in jail. But despite those harrowing beginnings, W.C. Fields became one of the best-loved comedic actors in film history. Those early years, though, shaped both his on- and off-screen personality.

THE oldest item in the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences' new exhibition, "The Peregrinations & Pettifoggery of W.C. Fields," is a small theatrical datebook from 1898 filled with browning newspaper clippings about the then 18-year-old comic's juggling routines and play dates that year.

James Agee called him "one of the funniest men on earth." For Buster Keaton he was "the foremost American comedian," for John Cleese, "America's most profound comedian." He is prized by millions for saying, "Any man who hates children and dogs can't be all bad," though he didn't say it. He deserves to be prized by millions more for his advice, "Start every day with a smile and get it over with," though I'm not absolutely sure he said that.

We set off from the San Fernando Valley late one hazy Friday morning with only two notions about our destination: It was the flower seed capital of the nation, and the locals were drunk and dysfunctional. The first we learned in school, and the second we learned from "The Bank Dick." W.C. Fields' 1940 movie classic is set in Lompoc, and my wife, Bobbie, and I have seen it countless times (and, of course, know the depiction of locals is fictional).

Thanks to Betsy Sharkey for the article last Sunday ("Illuminating Yesterday -- and Today Too," July 26) and for showing the connection of events then and now as typified by the humor of W.C. Fields. He truly transcends generations, and his humor is as "spot on" today as it was in the days of "The Bank Dick." As one of W.C. Fields' five grandsons, I am especially grateful. Allen Fields San Diego

The director D.W. Griffith (1875-1948) is probably best remembered for his 1915 epic, "The Birth of a Nation," the most ambitious and commercially successful film made in the United States to that point. Unfortunately, the drama, about the Civil War and Reconstruction, is so appallingly racist in its depiction of African Americans that it is difficult and distasteful to sit through, and contemporary viewers may be forgiven for wondering at Griffith's exalted reputation.

W.C. FIELDS may have been the ultimate curmudgeon who never gave a sucker an even break, but he was also an extraordinary juggler and a comedian of the highest order.

THE boozehound reputation and endless quotability of W.C. Fields have ensured his place in pop culture history. But that outsize persona and those cherished wisecracks, divorced from the context of his movies, tell only part of the story. Seen today, Fields' best films prove that time has not in the least blunted the originality and complexity of his comedy. Born William Claude Dukenfield in 1880, he was a vaudeville star by age 20.

Having been an admirer of W.C. Fields since childhood, I naturally loved "A Proboscis Worth Preserving" [Jan. 18]. Ironically, my favorite Fields film of all time is one rarely mentioned, "Mississippi" (1935). He upstaged Bing Crosby and Joan Bennett! Fields, like Charlie Chaplin, his only serious rival, hated Christmas Day. Is it not fascinating that Fields died on that day? EDDIE CRESS Sylmar

THE oldest item in the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences' new exhibition, "The Peregrinations & Pettifoggery of W.C. Fields," is a small theatrical datebook from 1898 filled with browning newspaper clippings about the then 18-year-old comic's juggling routines and play dates that year.

Tomorrow, Christmas Day, marks the 50th anniversary of the death of America's greatest comedian, W.C. Fields. And, as surely as lilacs bloom in the spring, the genius of this remarkable, dark-humored 20th century Falstaff preserved through his films will be rediscovered by the sharper-minded of new generations. Along with his comedic genius was the belief by all but Fields' closest friends that he disliked Christmas, its trappings and its celebration. This was not the case.

The America that nurtured W.C. Fields' talents and rooted his comic character in a reality painfully recognizable to his audience is no more. The corner saloon has given way to the corner Starbucks, the shadowy silence of the pool hall to the visual and auditory hubbub of the video arcade, the sweaty communality of vaudeville and tent shows to the anonymous onanisms of the Internet. These, of course, are just a few of the more visible (and more recent) signs of our flank-speed mutability.

These are the laws of my administration: No one's allowed to smoke Or tell a dirty joke And whistling is forbidden. If chewing gum is chewed The chewer is pursued. And in the hoosegow hidden. If any form of pleasure is exhibited Report to me and it will be prohibited. I'll put my foot down, so shall it be. This is the land of the free.

"Start every day off with a smile and get it over with." W.C. Fields * The image of W.C. Fields in most people's minds is a caricature: the top-hatted, hard-drinking, bulbous-nosed crook and swindler who loved to say "my little chickadee," "never give a sucker an even break" and "Godfrey Daniel," his euphemism for swearing.