Dave Newhouse: The bottomless fall of Fatty Arbuckle
Posted: Mon Jul 04, 2011 5:05 pm
http://www.mercurynews.com/columns/ci_1 ... ck_check=1
Dave Newhouse: The bottomless fall of Fatty Arbuckle
By Dave Newhouse
Oakland Tribune columnist
Posted: 07/03/2011 12:00:00 AM PDT
Updated: 07/03/2011 03:11:10 PM PDT
Life 90 years ago was so radically different from the present that the tweeting generation might think it fictional. Television hadn't been invented, radio was a brand-new novelty, and the movie screen was voiceless.
Silent films marked the roots of Hollywood, and among its biggest early stars -- as big as Charlie Chaplin -- was Roscoe "Fatty" Arbuckle, who headlined the first "trial of the century" in 1921, right here in San Francisco.
Newspapers were the media back then, but some in the printed press leaned toward the fictional rather than the factual as they sought to convict Arbuckle prematurely during his three -- yes, three -- manslaughter trials.
Eventually, he was acquitted in the tragic case of actress Virginia Rappe, who died mysteriously after attending a party given by Arbuckle at the St. Francis Hotel.
This was the O.J. Simpson murder trial without the white Bronco. But like a guiltless Simpson -- if the facts don't fit, you must acquit -- Arbuckle was so scandalized that he, too, became a pariah in the minds of the public, which never forgave him.
Now virtually forgotten, the rotund Arbuckle has been given new life through a well-researched, highly entertaining book by David Kizer, an East Bay attorney and onetime Oakland resident who lives in Oakley.
Titled "Wolves at the Door: The Trials of Fatty Arbuckle," Kizer's self-published book is available through www.amazon.com
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at $18.14.
Kizer, a onetime copy editor at the Hayward Daily Review, wrote a 20-page paper on Arbuckle for the Law Journal before realizing he was hooked. And then for two years, he practiced law by day, and wrote at night.
"I felt sorry for Roscoe because he was just a big kid in an adult world," said Kizer. "But he was looked at as the epitome of what was wrong with the morality in our country."
Kizer's 532-page work is a rich slice of local history. Besides the San Francisco angle, Arbuckle grew up in Santa Clara. One of the key witnesses at his trials, singer Alice Blake, lived in Oakland. Arbuckle also did vaudeville in Oakland before achieving fame as a lovable 5-foot-8, 266-pound film star.
Having just signed a $3 million contract with Paramount Pictures in 1921, Arbuckle loaded up his $25,000 Pierce Arrow with bootleg whiskey -- it was Prohibition -- and drove to San Francisco to celebrate. Two friends came along, including director Fred Fishbach, who had discovered silent film child star "Baby Peggy" (Peggy-Jean Montgomery, now Diana Serra Cary, 92, of Gustine) in 1920.
Arbuckle booked three adjoining suites at the St. Francis. Phone calls were made to a dozen ladies to join the two-day party, including Rappe (pronounced Ra-PAY), a B actress who also was in San Francisco looking for a fun time.
What then occurred on the 12th floor became a he-said, she-said scenario. Rappe, 25, had become violently sick at the party after drinking alcohol. She died several days later of organ failure induced by peritonitis -- an inflammation of the membrane that lines the abdominal cavity and encloses the stomach, liver and intestines. The cause of death was a ruptured bladder.
Witnesses contended they saw Rappe enter a room with Arbuckle, who locked the door. These witnesses purportedly heard her scream, "I am dying. He hurt me." Their feeling was that Arbuckle's heft or some foreign instrument, such as a piece of ice or a soda bottle forced into Rappe which ruptured the bladder.
However, those same witnesses proved unreliable; they appeared determined to get Arbuckle. Two San Francisco newspapers, the Hearst-owned Examiner and the Chronicle, hammered him with inflammatory headlines.
Then medical information was presented that proved a ruptured bladder for someone already suffering with peritonitis -- Rappe -- could be caused by consuming alcohol. And she had experienced violent attacks before from drinking booze, new witnesses said.
Rappe also had been sexually active, having become an unwed mother at 15. She was rumored to have had two abortions, which possibly led to her developing cystitis, an inflammation of the bladder.
Though not legally divorced from her first husband, she lived with her fiance, producer-director Henry Lehrman. Rappe told a nurse that she had suffered for six weeks from what appeared to be a venereal disease.
She was a medical time bomb.
When Arbuckle testified, at last, in the third trial, he said that he had discovered Rappe on the floor of his bathroom, writhing and tearing at her clothes, obviously in distress. He was so convincing, the prosecution's case fell apart, and after he was acquitted in 1922, the jury foreman apologized to him.
"Only two people knew what really happened in that room," said Kizer. "But Roscoe hadn't shown that kind of (aggressive) personality before. He was a very sweet man who was devoted to his mother."
Arbuckle wouldn't ever regain his popularity, even as a free man. New Hollywood morality czar Will Hays promptly banned Arbuckle from the silver screen forever.
Though technically reinstated a year later, Arbuckle was finished in the movies. He tried the stage without success, then opened a nightclub. He seemed depressed, drank excessively, married twice (three times total), and died of a heart attack in 1933. He was 46.
Had it been otherwise 90 years ago, Kizer is convinced Arbuckle would have continued his stardom into talking pictures, which began in 1927, and beyond.
"Roscoe had a good voice. He could sing, and he was a good dancer -- light on his feet -- besides being a great actor," said Kizer. "He would have had the same career as Jackie Gleason, Chris Farley and John Candy. Roscoe also directed some of his own movies, and I feel he would have done more as a director."
But Roscoe "Fatty" Arbuckle's career died with Virgina Rappe.
Dave Newhouse's columns appear Monday, Thursday and Sunday, usually on the Local page. Know any Good Neighbors? Call 510-208-6466 or email dnewhouse(at)bayareanewsgroup.com.
Dave Newhouse: The bottomless fall of Fatty Arbuckle
By Dave Newhouse
Oakland Tribune columnist
Posted: 07/03/2011 12:00:00 AM PDT
Updated: 07/03/2011 03:11:10 PM PDT
Life 90 years ago was so radically different from the present that the tweeting generation might think it fictional. Television hadn't been invented, radio was a brand-new novelty, and the movie screen was voiceless.
Silent films marked the roots of Hollywood, and among its biggest early stars -- as big as Charlie Chaplin -- was Roscoe "Fatty" Arbuckle, who headlined the first "trial of the century" in 1921, right here in San Francisco.
Newspapers were the media back then, but some in the printed press leaned toward the fictional rather than the factual as they sought to convict Arbuckle prematurely during his three -- yes, three -- manslaughter trials.
Eventually, he was acquitted in the tragic case of actress Virginia Rappe, who died mysteriously after attending a party given by Arbuckle at the St. Francis Hotel.
This was the O.J. Simpson murder trial without the white Bronco. But like a guiltless Simpson -- if the facts don't fit, you must acquit -- Arbuckle was so scandalized that he, too, became a pariah in the minds of the public, which never forgave him.
Now virtually forgotten, the rotund Arbuckle has been given new life through a well-researched, highly entertaining book by David Kizer, an East Bay attorney and onetime Oakland resident who lives in Oakley.
Titled "Wolves at the Door: The Trials of Fatty Arbuckle," Kizer's self-published book is available through www.amazon.com
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Advertisement
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
at $18.14.
Kizer, a onetime copy editor at the Hayward Daily Review, wrote a 20-page paper on Arbuckle for the Law Journal before realizing he was hooked. And then for two years, he practiced law by day, and wrote at night.
"I felt sorry for Roscoe because he was just a big kid in an adult world," said Kizer. "But he was looked at as the epitome of what was wrong with the morality in our country."
Kizer's 532-page work is a rich slice of local history. Besides the San Francisco angle, Arbuckle grew up in Santa Clara. One of the key witnesses at his trials, singer Alice Blake, lived in Oakland. Arbuckle also did vaudeville in Oakland before achieving fame as a lovable 5-foot-8, 266-pound film star.
Having just signed a $3 million contract with Paramount Pictures in 1921, Arbuckle loaded up his $25,000 Pierce Arrow with bootleg whiskey -- it was Prohibition -- and drove to San Francisco to celebrate. Two friends came along, including director Fred Fishbach, who had discovered silent film child star "Baby Peggy" (Peggy-Jean Montgomery, now Diana Serra Cary, 92, of Gustine) in 1920.
Arbuckle booked three adjoining suites at the St. Francis. Phone calls were made to a dozen ladies to join the two-day party, including Rappe (pronounced Ra-PAY), a B actress who also was in San Francisco looking for a fun time.
What then occurred on the 12th floor became a he-said, she-said scenario. Rappe, 25, had become violently sick at the party after drinking alcohol. She died several days later of organ failure induced by peritonitis -- an inflammation of the membrane that lines the abdominal cavity and encloses the stomach, liver and intestines. The cause of death was a ruptured bladder.
Witnesses contended they saw Rappe enter a room with Arbuckle, who locked the door. These witnesses purportedly heard her scream, "I am dying. He hurt me." Their feeling was that Arbuckle's heft or some foreign instrument, such as a piece of ice or a soda bottle forced into Rappe which ruptured the bladder.
However, those same witnesses proved unreliable; they appeared determined to get Arbuckle. Two San Francisco newspapers, the Hearst-owned Examiner and the Chronicle, hammered him with inflammatory headlines.
Then medical information was presented that proved a ruptured bladder for someone already suffering with peritonitis -- Rappe -- could be caused by consuming alcohol. And she had experienced violent attacks before from drinking booze, new witnesses said.
Rappe also had been sexually active, having become an unwed mother at 15. She was rumored to have had two abortions, which possibly led to her developing cystitis, an inflammation of the bladder.
Though not legally divorced from her first husband, she lived with her fiance, producer-director Henry Lehrman. Rappe told a nurse that she had suffered for six weeks from what appeared to be a venereal disease.
She was a medical time bomb.
When Arbuckle testified, at last, in the third trial, he said that he had discovered Rappe on the floor of his bathroom, writhing and tearing at her clothes, obviously in distress. He was so convincing, the prosecution's case fell apart, and after he was acquitted in 1922, the jury foreman apologized to him.
"Only two people knew what really happened in that room," said Kizer. "But Roscoe hadn't shown that kind of (aggressive) personality before. He was a very sweet man who was devoted to his mother."
Arbuckle wouldn't ever regain his popularity, even as a free man. New Hollywood morality czar Will Hays promptly banned Arbuckle from the silver screen forever.
Though technically reinstated a year later, Arbuckle was finished in the movies. He tried the stage without success, then opened a nightclub. He seemed depressed, drank excessively, married twice (three times total), and died of a heart attack in 1933. He was 46.
Had it been otherwise 90 years ago, Kizer is convinced Arbuckle would have continued his stardom into talking pictures, which began in 1927, and beyond.
"Roscoe had a good voice. He could sing, and he was a good dancer -- light on his feet -- besides being a great actor," said Kizer. "He would have had the same career as Jackie Gleason, Chris Farley and John Candy. Roscoe also directed some of his own movies, and I feel he would have done more as a director."
But Roscoe "Fatty" Arbuckle's career died with Virgina Rappe.
Dave Newhouse's columns appear Monday, Thursday and Sunday, usually on the Local page. Know any Good Neighbors? Call 510-208-6466 or email dnewhouse(at)bayareanewsgroup.com.
