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

there every day for weeks in a row. From the day of her appearance at Toluca Lake, he addressed her only as "Mickey Mouse," and he never bothered to explain why. Another important member of Fields' household in this phase was Carlotta Monti, his companion, friend, and practical nurse for fourteen years, a pretty, volatile girl of Mexican and Italian ancestry. The comedian and Miss Monti met when he was working for Paramount in Million-Dollar Legs and she, as a bit player and dancer for the same studio, was asked to appear in some stills with him. Like Miss Michael, Miss Monti, from the start, found Fields a worthy subject for study, and she has preserved a mental catalogue of his foibles. On the occasion of their meeting she sensed that the comedian would have liked her phone number but that he had too much ego to ask for it. He walked her to her car, making genteel, courteous conversation. On her part, she essayed a few slender jokes, at which he laughed without restraint. She believes they were among the last jokes of hers he ever laughed at. Fields was often deferential to people until he came to know them, after which he relaxed. Miss Monti, an alert, good-natured girl, thoroughly enjoyed his fumbling efforts to become acquainted. She recalls that he said, "I hope you live conveniently near the studio?" "Oh, yes," she said, "right in Hollywood." "Very clever of you. South end of town, eh?" "Well, no, more on the order of the middle, or north end." Fields let a cane he was carrying snag onto a bush, and he killed two or three minutes unhooking it. Then he said, "It's a tough life — they don't care when they rout you out, any time of the day or night." "Yes, they call me, too," she agreed. "On the telephone." "A wonderful invention," said the comedian, and opened her car door, unable to voice the direct question. The Machiavellian 261