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

been torn by agonizing emotions. Many days when the mansion had seemed almost within his grasp, Le Baron had miraculously rallied, and checked the comedian's plans. After reading one cheerless newspaper report, Fields called Le Baron's hospital and talked to his nurse. "Are there any late bulletins?" he asked in a bereaved tone. "Mr. Le Baron is much better," said the nurse. "His physician is optimistic for the first time." "It's a lie!" roared Fields. "He isn't going to pull through. Damn him, I'll get that house — you wait and see." The nurse reported this solicitous exchange to Le Baron, who rallied enough further to laugh weakly. "I don't think Bill actually wanted me to die," he says. "But he was a practical man, and he sure planned to get that house if I did die. As it turned out, I moved and he got it anyhow." Fields always kept the telephones warm when his friends were going through a crisis. One time when Gene Fowler was involved in a terrible automobile accident, and lay at the point of death, Fields, having just got the news, called the hospital in the early hours of the morning. He was put through to a flustered nurse. "How is he?" asked Fields. "We're not sure — the doctors told the reporters he may be going," the nurse replied. "Is he conscious?" "Yes. I can deliver a message, Mr. Fields." "Then tell the son of a bitch to get up from there and quit faking," said the comedian. A few minutes later, one of his household found him downstairs, sitting in a corner and crying. Fields' house was on De Mille Drive, a circumstance that irked him. The pioneer movie maker of that name lived just across the road, on somewhat higher ground, an elevation disparity that also bothered Fields. Because of the name, and his subordinate sea level, the comedian took a snarling dislike to De Mille that ap 267