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in the living room. He used it not only for recreation but to promote rest during periods of insomnia. As a ball racker, he had taken a fancy to the pool table for sleeping purposes, and he often turned back to it in his later, wealthier days.
At the conclusion of his billiard phase, Fields planned his next move very carefully. Although his life at this stage appeared aimless, he was beginning to exhibit the foresight that later characterized all his actions. "There is very little luck," he was to write a lady friend fifty years thence. "Almost everything must be thought out." His objective, in the professional line, was a job which left him plenty of leisure time in which to juggle. In addition, since it was now summer, he wanted something moderately cool. Finally, he preferred a position that would excite the envy of the young. He thought it out and luck was with him. Within a week he was signed on as assistant to a man named Gomer Wheatley, who drove an ice wagon. Fields was first attracted to this employment while reading an ad in a newspaper. Struck by the name "Gomer Wheatley," which was in ten-point type, he was compelled to read the eight-point text it accompanied. Wheatley said the run took only a few hours, neglecting to add that it started around 3 a.m., at which time there was a minimum of shrinkage. At the outset, Fields was appalled, but he was casehardened and got used to it. Wheatley was keenly interested in juggling. He pressed his helper to teach him a few tricks. Of this venture Fields later wrote an acquaintance, "I did my best, but I could only teach him how to juggle his accounts."
The partners enjoyed themselves. Wheatley had a leisurely bay horse, and he was a fairly leisurely man himself. He and his assistant took turns filling the orders, as the horse clumped idly down the darkened streets. It was a summer of good weather; Fields had chosen wisely. The cicadas sang in the trees, the night wind was fresh and cool, dogs complained sleepily, without mean
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