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

W. C. Fields along the streets and through the parks, he draws all and sundry. And his talent at this endeavor is almost up to his juggling, and that is saying quite a deal!" The confidential nature of this dispatch is astonishing, when it is considered that Fields seldom revealed his true status, of whatever kind, to any reporter. In no other known interview of the time does he mention being lonely. On the contrary, he often described his offstage commitments as being somewhat more social than those of the Astors. The Plain Dealer's report must stand, in the light of what Fields later told a few close friends, as a fine tribute to an enterprising, anonymous and long-forgotten reporter. Most vaudeville old-timers remember Fields as a solitary man. Marty Lynch, a juggler of that period who is still practicing his art, recently wrote in a letter to a friend : "No one ever knew him [Fields] . I was playing in London a long time, and so was Fields, at different theaters, and all the performers used to gather after their shows at the German Club, on Lisle Street, in back of the Hippodrome. Fields would be there, too, but all alone always, sitting at a table reading and drinking, all alone. "I would ask different actors if they knew him. Well, I met a few that played on 'bills' with him, but hardly anybody knew him, to speak to." Fields' loneliness presumably reached such a pitch that, soon after the turn of the century, he contracted an alliance that will probably remain the cloudiest aspect of his history. He took a bride, a Miss Harriet Hughes, of 423 West Twenty-fifth Street, New York City. The liaison marked the beginning of a wrangle that continued until Fields' death. In fact, it is still in lively progress, in California, where the widow is continuing the fuss with the late comedian's shade, trying, contrary to his wishes as expressly stated in his will, to gain control of his fortune. Fields and Miss Hughes met while she was dancing in a New York 108