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

W. C. Fields cut up, a director would say (thanks to Fields) , "Ben, if you don't behave yourself, I'm going to pray to St. Joseph to straighten out your eyes." Terrified, Turpin would play the scene with pious obedience. Excitement appeared to follow Fields around the sets. In one scene he was supposed to sprint across a courtyard a couple of jumps ahead of some lions. Sennett had contracted with an animal man for the use of three elderly, toothless lions, but when the beasts arrived they appeared to be in very frolicsome condition; and large, strong teeth, or dentures, formed a memorable part of their features. Fields, of course, demurred at what he regarded as certain suicide in one of its most disagreeable forms, and the action was halted while they hashed things out. "It's only a short run, Bill," said Sennett, "and you'll hop through this door on the right while the lions take the one on the left. Even if they should turn ugly, they can't possibly get you." "They aren't friendly," said Fields. "Those aren't friendly lions. I can tell. They've been starved down and they'll eat anything." By some means that Sennett has forgotten, he was persuaded to make the dash. As soon as he entered the courtyard, at a clip which provoked admiration from men half his age, the trainer shoved the lions forward and gave them a boosting kick. They took out after Fields as if he were the last remaining game at the old water hole. Looking around, he read what he interpreted as intimations of dinner in their faces and stepped up his tempo. But when he neared his exit, he heard an anguished yell from behind it, "Who the hell locked this door?" The comedian gave voice to a bloodcurdling cry and charged through the locked door with a splintering crash. The lions, crestfallen and mumbling, 224