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

W. C. Fields a body of water inhabited by a peevish, noisy, outsized white swan, which took an instant dislike to Fields. Mary Brian, Bing Crosby, and Richard Arlen, who had houses on the lake, recall many interesting sights of the comedian fitted out for combat. For several days after he moved in, the swan would catch him near the shore and chase him back to his house. Then Fields got a cane with a curved handle and took to hiding in the reeds near the water. He would produce noises that he fancied were recognizable as authentic swan talk, and, when the bird came in to investigate, he would rush out and try to get the cane around its neck. "Mr. Fields was sure enough scared of that swan," one of his former servants says. "Almost every time they met, he wound up runnin'." After three or four futile brushes with the cane, he decided on heavier ordnance, and he switched to a golf club, selecting a number-four iron. The bird showed considerable respect for the iron, and Fields went on the offensive. He bought a canoe and chased the swan all over the lake every day. But no matter how hard he paddled, the bird managed to stay out in front. It was hot work, and Fields, on one occasion, lay back to rest and get his strength up. He dozed off, and the swan circled around, like Nelson at Trafalgar, and fell on him from the rear. The comedian returned home in a homicidal humor. He stormed around the house trying to enlist sympathy for his cause. "The goddamned bird broke all the rules of civilized warfare," he kept saying. He got a revolver and loaded it up, but one of his household talked him into sticking to the golf club. Grady cannot be too profuse in his praise of Fields' driving. One time during prohibition the comedian heard that a friend on Long Island had just received two cases of contraband Irish whisky. He and Grady drove out immediately. They and the 168