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lowed instructions, but he always added what struck Howard as an unnecessary touch of his own. For instance, he would, as directed, dress in a sweat suit and mount the stationary bicycle for a long ride, but he generally drank several martinis en route. He would pedal along stolidly, now and then honking a handle-bar klaxon he had installed "to break the monotony," and sip from the glass resting in his free hand. His rowing machine provided one of Fields' favorite exercises. He would place a drink about two feet from the rear end of the device, then, backwatering desperately, pretend to chase it as racing greyhounds chase a mechanical rabbit. "I'm gaining!" he'd cry at the disgusted Howard. "This is wonderful — these workouts are going to increase my liquor consumption 2 or 3 hundred per cent." Often, as he rowed along, he would sing sea chanteys or bawl profane instructions to an imaginary crew. He developed into a good oarsman. No matter how rough the water, he always caught up with the drink. For some reason that Howard is unable to explain, Fields preferred highballs while seated in his steam cabinet. With weary resignation the trainer would zip him up (in a special electric-steam cabinet of his own design ) , leave his head and one arm free, and hand him a drink; then he would sit by while Fields carried on about the wonders of physical culture.
Howard, who was a fine athlete, occasionally boxed with Fields on the lawn. He found the comedian fast, strong, shifty, and utterly untrustworthy. After feigning severe fatigue, the former juggler was likely to come up with a crushing uppercut, then offer windy expostulations that it was "a regrettable accident." Howard learned to keep his guard up and watch him closely. Fields hated to be bested at anything. Howard, in his off time, was given to reading Shakespeare and other weighty authors, and he engaged his client in intellectual conversations. After a few sessions of this, Fields contrived ornate countermeasures. He
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