About 12 years ago, during the heyday of Borders Books, I was browsing the magazine aisle when I came across a Playboy issue featuring Dita Von Teese. Her photoshoot was a throwback to pre-pinup 1920s-30s styles. I bought the issue because it reflected my personal style. As I flipped through the magazine, I came across an article of Hollywood's top ten scandals of yesteryear. (It's true; Playboy really does have great, well-written articles.) Some of the scandals I had heard of before: The Black Dahlia, Jayne Mansfield, William Desmond Taylor. There was one that was unfamiliar to me, yet it captured my interest most; the murder trial of Roscoe "Fatty" Arbuckle.
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| "A good laugh...is the most worthwhile thing in life." - RC Arbuckle |
He was described as "larger than life"; a large man who was incredibly agile and nimble. He never used his weight as the primary subject for his gags (i.e. sitting down and breaking chairs). He was just a funny man who happened to be big. For a man his size, his ability to throw himself, fall, roll over head over heels and pop right back up to continue with the scene was quite impressive indeed.
I researched this man's life and career and learned that he was the hottest actor in show business. He was the first to be contracted for $1 million (a lot today; could you imagine the 19teens!); the first to direct and star in his films; the first to have complete ownership of his films; the first to preview his films before a live audience; and the first comedian to make feature films on a regular basis. He also is the only person to have worked with Charlie Chaplin, Harold Lloyd and Buster Keaton who all had supporting roles in Arbuckle films. So why is there very little knowledge of this once great comedian?
It was a matter of being at the wrong place at the wrong time with the wrong people. In September 1921, at San Francisco's St. Francis Hotel, Arbuckle attended a friend's party near his hotel suite. A young starlette, Virginia Rappé, complained of violent stomach pains and passed out after having vomited. Arbuckle helped her to a bed and called for a doctor before returning to his room. The following afternoon, he went about his usual business. Four days later, Ms. Rappé died of peritonitis. Ms. Rappé's companion Maude Delmond, who had a record of at least 50 counts of extortion, bigamy, fraud and racketeering, marched into the SFPD station and claimed Arbuckle had raped and caused her friend's death. That night, Arbuckle was arrested for rape and murder.
When news of his arrest became known, the media, run by William Randolph Hearst, immediately went into "hot off the press" mode. The headlines printed lurid details of the crime (all baseless and without a shred of evidence) with accounts of rape with a coke bottle, a milk bottle or a block of ice; that her bladder was ripped apart under the weight of Arbuckle. The press began printing inaccurate details of Arbuckle's life painting him as a pervert and a man of ill-repute. They fabricated pictures of him. An overzealous District Attorney used the case to advance his political career knowing that his star witness was lying (the evidence contradicted all of her claims). It didn't matter that the media and justice system were assassinating this man's character; it was all to sell papers and make a name for one's self.
It took 3 trials; two ending in mistrials and the third in his acquittal with a subsequent apology from the jury. But the damage had already been done. No movie studio wanted to work with him. William Hays (the man behind the restrictive Hays Code) blacklisted Arbuckle; that is, any studio or director who hired Arbuckle would face consequence from the movie industry. Close actor friends were not allowed to publicly support Arbuckle as it would threaten their reputation, but they continued to support him in private. Movie houses refused to show his films.
Arbuckle lost everything. He was financially ruined from paying legal fees of three trials. He couldn't get work as an actor; not at least for 10 years. Eventually the blacklist was lifted, but very few production companies would work with him. He was financially and emotionally supported by his few friends in the movie industry (it's always during moments of personal adversity when you learn who your true friends are).
What history (and most media accounts) would like you to believe is that Arbuckle went into oblivion never to be heard from again; a ruined man who died in obscurity. But that isn't the truth. (What news outlet would ever print a happy ending?) In 1925, he was allowed to direct films but only under a pseudonym; William Goodrich (a joke by Buster Keaton suggested it was akin to Will B. Good). As a director, Arbuckle would continue to make important contributions
to film comedy; working on comedy shorts.
By 1927, Roscoe was directing stars such as Eddie Cantor and Hearst's mistress, Marion Davies (yes, THAT Hearst. Ironic, no?) in major features at Paramount. Arbuckle would continue to
use the Goodrich name while directing until 1931 when Motion Picture Magazine printed an article titled, "Doesn't Fatty Arbuckle Deserve a Break?" that was signed by several film stars of that time. The public eventually warmed up to him and demanded that Arbuckle return to the screen.
In 1932, Arbuckle was given a contract to star in short reel comedies of which he completed all six. On June 29, 1933, he was signed to a long term acting contract with Warner Bros. There are some accounts that claim Arbuckle stated, "This is the best day of my life." The following night, after celebrating his new contract, Arbuckle died in his sleep of heart failure. His widow said that he had died smiling. He was only 46 years old.
In recent weeks, I have been watching many Arbuckle shorts. I ordered a compilation of his lost films of which I've only watched one disc thus far. The Niles Esssanay Theatre in Fremont showed two of his films recently. Of course, I was in attendance. The audience was a mix of youth to the very old; I'd say the average age was 50, but it was nice to see younger generations appreciate his contribution to comedy. To hear people laugh at films that are (literally) 100 years old was simply amazing. I'm waiting for the day when Stanford Theatre brings back their silent film festivals and showcases Arbuckle films as the main attractions. Or perhaps the Silent Film Festival of San Francisco can highlight Arbuckle films. I'm sure those days will come.
Meanwhile, enjoy a clip of Arbuckle in "The Cook".
References:
Arbucklemania
"Fatty Arbuckle: Mysteries and Scandals", E Network
"The Persistent Myth" by Robert Young, Jr. from "The Forgotten Films of Roscoe 'Fatty' Arbuckle"
