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THE PARTY
The 14-story St Francis Hotel, built in 1904 in the heart of San Francisco, was an ironic setting for Hollywood's most bizarre scandal. Prior to 1921, its excitements were confined to one male suicide and a couple of lobby brawls. Its grey stone walls and austere lobby were about as romantic as a box of stale St. Valentine's candy. Yet it was playboy Roscoe "Fatty" Arbuckle's favorite hotel. (He signed the hotel register "R. F. Arbuckle".)
His suite was a cliche. Its light green color, its stuffed furniture and multi-pattemed rugs screamed "hotel room." It had two marks of distinction— a spectacular view of the city and a heterodyne tube radio that could get Los Angeles 500 miles away.
At 9 a.m. on Monday, Labor Day, September 5, 1921, Arbuckle hadn't slept since Saturday night. He was irritable, his eyes were bright pink, his nose was running (lack of sleep always did this to him) and he had had too much liquor. He looked around the room disgustedly, and Zey Prevon, a San Francisco showgirl, heard him mutter, "This is one helluva party."
What he saw was four people sprawled around the rooms in various stages of sleep. A bridge table set up near the middle of the room served as the bar. Empty and half-empty bottles and glasses were strewn about
The five inhabitants of the room were Fred Fishbeck, who slept with a smile on his face; Lowell Sherman, whom Arbuckle had cussed out because he said he needed some sleep; Zey Prevon; and Dollie Clark, another San Francisco showgirl. All were fully dressed except for
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