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

W. C. Fields peared to be without any other foundation. Hearing De Mille's car start up, he would peer balefully through the shrubs and snort. If the weathered gardener was working near by, he would grab his arm and point. "There he goes," Fields would cry. "Confound him! Look at him ! Now what do you think of that?" "Yamgatso moo toya?" the gardener would say, or something equally puzzling. At no time during the five years Fields had the house did the two exchange a single understandable scrap of conversation. It is highly likely, several people feel, that the Jap didn't know the house had changed hands. Both his origin and his tongue were obscure ; reliable authorities claim that his utterances were garbled not only to Americans but to Japanese. Nevertheless, Fields continued to talk to him as though they had some means of communication. "Yamgatso moo toya?" the gardener would repeat, with a look of mild inquiry, and Fields would answer : "De Mille. It's that damned old director. Look at him, look at that car. Where do you suppose he's going?" "Negato yum ramsaky fui/' the Jap might say, and perhaps laugh. "Well, I tell you what we'll do. We'll sneak over there tonight and build a Burmese tiger trap on his lawn. Drat the old devil — we'll fix him up good." The gardener would look comprehending, then hand Fields a potted plant, and they would retreat to the house, each talking volubly, neither getting through, each busy and satisfied on his own mysterious circuit. Fields' staff thought that in some secret recess of his heart he had a grudging admiration of De Mille ; the ranting was designed to cover it up. Certainly when the two met, the comedian was perfectly courteous. He would lift his hat, smile, call out a cheery "Good morning," and step along as briskly as if his house were 268