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W. C. Fields
Many supporters of Chaplin have long resented Fields' notoriety. Perhaps the best testimonial to Chaplin's greatness is the fact that Fields was incapable of watching him perform for more than a few minutes. The virtuosity of the little fellow's pantomime caused Fields to suffer horribly. One evening, a few years before Fields' death, he was persuaded to attend a showing of early Chaplin two-reelers. At a point in the action where Chaplin suffocated a 300-pound villain by pulling a gas street lamp down over his head, the laughter rose in deafening crescendo, and Fields was heard to cough desperately.
"Hot in here," he muttered to his companion, who was fortified against the cooling system with a heavy tweed jacket. "I need air." Fields left the theater and waited outside in his Lincoln. Later, asked what he thought of Chaplin's work, he said, "The son of a bitch is a ballet dancer."
"He's pretty funny, don't you think?" his companion went on doggedly.
"He's the best ballet dancer that ever lived," said Fields, "and if I get a good chance I'll kill him with my bare hands."
Gene Buck, now the guiding spirit of AS CAP and once the principal assistant to Florenz Ziegfeld, picked Fields out of vaudeville in 19 14 and hired him for the Follies. In a letter to a friend, after Fields died, Buck said, "Next to Bert Williams, Bill was the greatest comic that ever lived, in my book. He was amazing and unique, the strangest guy I ever knew in my lifetime. He was all by himself. Nobody could be like him and a great many tried. He was so damn different, original and talented. He never was a happy guy. He couldn't be, but what color and daring in this game of life ! He made up a lot of new rules forty years ago about everything : conduct, people, morals, entertainment, friendship, gals, pals, fate and happiness, and he had the courage to ignore old rules.