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

W. C. Fields The doctor was pleased to observe that both Fields' spirit and his skill improved steadily as they progressed. By and large the game had somewhat the reverse effect on the doctor, whom the invalid inveigled into making foolhardy bets. After the fifth or sixth hole, by which point the patient appeared to have worked the stiffness out of his muscles, they were betting on individual shots as well as on the holes themselves. The pattern of wins and losses was pretty constant and even similar, the doctor once reflected, to a shell-game sequence he had seen Fields do in the movies. The comedian would fumble two 01 three seemingly easy tries, then double up on an impossible approach, sink it by a sort of juggling accident, and collect a handful of bills with cries of "Well, what do you know about that, Doc, old boy?" and "By gad, this golf's doing the trick!" — meanwhile taking deep breaths, beating on his breast, directing practice swings at dandelions, and lifting his cap to amused onlookers. By the end of each day's treatment, Fields had usually recovered his medical fee and made enough over to take care of the next day's whisky. Unless he was being preached at, Fields had qualms about drinking in front of the clergy. He was an honest agnostic, often saying, "I'll go out without knuckling under — they won't find me cringing for religion" — but he was respectful around unobtrusive religious persons, of whatever faith. Gregory La Cava, who grew up a Catholic, was once visited by two young priests from his boyhood parish. They expressed an awed regard for Fields, and after lunch their host took them to the comedian's house, with misgivings. When the party arrived, Fields was in a sulphurous humor; he'd hidden a Mason jar full of martinis and was unable to find it. He came to the door, cursing, and threw it open with a ceremonial cry of "What the hell do you " then 248