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

W. C. Fields ently. He was beginning to develop a fascination for odd names, and he searched his wares through for catchy examples. As a result, his reports on the news showed, from a journalist's standpoint, poor editorial judgment. "Bronislaw Gimp acquires license for two-year-old sheep dog," he'd cry, and add, "Details on page 26." Many citizens of Philadelphia bought his papers out of simple curiosity. Fields' revenue from the news business provided him with enough money to live on, and he regretfully gave up stealing. He had, he said, established an enviable record as an independent shoplifter, unbacked by either syndicates or kleptomania, and he understandably hated to throw away all he had built up. But he recognized that he was getting too old to continue ; the first flush of his speed was past and the police were likely to tuck him away for a long stretch. Although he actually went straight, Fields contended that he remained a thief at heart. His case in a way was similar to that of an elderly ballplayer, of whose unsuccessful attempt to steal a base Arthur "Bugs" Baer said, "He had larceny in his heart, but his feet were honest." All his life Fields bragged spaciously about his wayward youth. He made himself out to be somewhat more vicious than Fagin's shiftiest charges. Once, during an interview by a breathless girl reporter, he outlined a whole calendar of his youthful iniquities, and she said, "Tell me, Mr. Fields, now that you've become rich and famous, how do you feel about stealing and all that sort of thing?" "Young lady," said Fields, fixing her with a reproving stare, "there is nothing more contemptible than a thief." For a short period Fields became fed up with the bustle and roar of downtown news hawking, and he took a paper route in the suburbs. This turned out to be an injudicious decision. "In the words of my friend John Barrymore," he once said, "it was the winter of my discontent." The trouble could be laid to dogs. Fields 32