W. C. Fields : his follies and fortunes (1949)

The quality of freedom is never absolute, and Fields paid variously for his escape. Among other things, because of exposure, he suffered almost continuously from colds. His voice cracked, hoarsened, mellowed and re-formed on a note of permanent rasp. In a backward child this could have proved tragic ; in Fields it seemed to complement his new demeanor. Neither he nor his companions knew it, but a national character was beginning to take shape. As a result of the beatings, his nose bloomed far beyond the ordinary. It was reduced to pulp so often that, in gaining scar tissue, it rapidly added dimension. Fields was right when, in reminiscing about his nose, he absolved whisky from part of the guilt. From his middle age onward he became aggressively sensitive about his nose. He sometimes resented whimsical allusions to it by his most cherished friends. One time, while on a deep-sea fishing trip with Gene Fowler and some others, Fields sat in a boat's stern for hours beneath a broiling sun. His nose, always tender, lit up like a Chinese lantern. Suddenly, Fowler says, he heard a popping sound, and he cried, "Uncle Willie's nose has exploded!" Fields was wounded; he went below and sulked until they reached shore. Later on he telephoned Fowler and said, "Who all have you told that damned story to?" "Why, I don't know," Fowler said. "Everybody, I think." Fields cursed him vigorously. "You ought to be ashamed of yourself," he said at last. "You're making fun of an unfortunate man with an affliction." He calmed down when Fowler promised to call all the people he'd talked to and retract the news about Fields' nose exploding. 25