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

manager was a rhythm lover and, though exceptionally stingy, had gone all out for a drum. It was quite an instrument — huge, weighty, resonant, an easy standout in a rackety band. In eastern New Jersey, on a clear day, according to Fields, its booming was clearly audible across the Hudson. In a short time the boy was able to hear only outstanding disturbances like thunder, explosions, and collapsing buildings. His sleeping became spotty; at night, though the songs were ended, the drum continued to boom. After two weeks of this, he concluded that neither deafness nor lunacy was preferable to mangled hands, and he volunteered for a comedown. The management, rhythm-happy but understanding, assigned him to a trio of discontented elephants. Throughout his life Fields never really cared for elephants, and he felt that the three he met in the circus were especially difficult. Also, he said, despite their size they were narrow-minded. Fields had a trick of absently releasing mice in their area, and the elephants took it personally, retaliating in various ways. They tripped Fields as he was carrying water; they doused him when he'd spruced up for a date with the snake charmer ; they gulped water steadily and blew it on the ground; and, worst of all, they kept nudging him. Walking between them with a pail, Fields would be rocked off balance by the bull; then one of the females would close in and bounce him back. A moment later he would find himself dangerously bracketed, and he would bawl for aid. The association grew into a continuous series of practical jokes, with Fields, as he acknowledged, both outnumbered and outthought. Studying them, Fields decided that the elephants were professional expatriates ; also, he believed they didn't like show business. "Why don't you go back where you came from if you don't like it here?" he said he used to yell at them. Both he and the elephants 5i