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

W. C. Fields breather? I'll give the little nipper his juice." She nodded gratefully, and left the set. With a solicitous nursery air, Fields shook the bottle and removed its nipple, then he drew a flask from his pocket and strengthened the citrus with a generous noggin of gin. Baby LeRoy, a popular, warm-hearted youngster, showed his appreciation by gulping down the dynamite with a minimum of the caterwauling that distinguishes the orange-juice hour in so many homes. But when the shooting was ready to recommence, he was in a state of inoperative bliss. Taurog and others, including the returned nurse, inspected the tot with real concern. "I don't believe he's just sleepy," said the nurse. "He had a good night's rest." "Jiggle him some more," suggested Taurog. "We're running a little behind schedule." Several assistants broke into cries of "Hold it!" "Stand by with Number Seven!" and "Make-up — LeRoy's lost his color!" "Walk him around, walk him around," was Fields' hoarse and baffling comment from a secluded corner. The child was more or less restored to consciousness, but in the scene that followed, Taurog complained of his lack of animation. Despite the most urgent measures to revive him he remained glassy-eyed and in a partial coma. For some inexplicable reason Fields seemed jubilant. "He's no trouper," he kept yelling. "The kid's no trouper. Send him home." Several years later, when Baby LeRoy was grown to boyhood, Fields heard that he was re-entering films. "The kid's no trouper," the comedian told several people. "He'll never make a comeback." LeRoy did come back, however, and continued to perform successfully. Fields always thought that one of the most agreeable events 234