Читать книгу Movie Confidential - Andrew Schanie - Страница 9

ROSCOE CONKLING ARBUCKLE CAME crashing into the world on March 24, 1887, weighing sixteen pounds. If the birth of a sixteen-pound baby wasn’t enough cause for alarm, it happened in the midst of a tornado. In Arbuckle’s words, “My birth and a cyclone blew Smith Center [Kansas] off the map.” He was the youngest of nine children—little wonder his mother stopped with Roscoe. His young life was not filled with happiness. Roscoe’s mother died when he was twelve years old. His father was a drunk with a violent temper. But Roscoe grew up to be a rotund man who could make people laugh.

Roscoe “Fatty” Arbuckle may have played an idiot onscreen, but in reality he was an actor with great comic timing. His films were often a mixture of vulgarity and innocence—like a fat, horny five-year-old getting his first peck on the cheek.

Arbuckle could have been a legend. At one point he was more popular than his associate Charles Chaplin. He helped Buster Keaton become the star that he was. But one event at a Labor Day party—leading to the mysterious death of a young woman—would bring notoriety to Roscoe “Fatty” Arbuckle and ruin everything for him. Even after three trials—all ending in acquittal for Arbuckle—he would never recover from his transformation from a comedian into a laughingstock.

According to the book, The Fatty Arbuckle Case by Leo Guild, director Henry Lehrman had a new picture on the horizon starring Roscoe “Fatty” Arbuckle. It was on the set of this movie that Arbuckle met the young starlet Virginia Rappe for the first time. Rappe was involed with Henry Lehrman, but Arbuckle was infatuated with Virginia’s beauty nonetheless and had no problem letting her know. But Virginia had no interest in being Arbuckle’s girl. Although Arbuckle may have been a large man, he had a way of charming women. He wasn’t a desperate man pining after something he couldn’t have. He was a man who wore his emotions on his sleeve and left his options open. Should Virginia Rappe become single, he would swoop in to work his magic.

On Labor Day weekend in 1921, the planets aligned for disaster. Rappe had an argument with Lehrman, who left town on business after the argument, leaving the status of their relationship unknown. Arbuckle was aware of the rift and also was hosting a party at the St. Francis Hotel in San Francisco that weekend. He had booked three connecting rooms for the bash. Virginia would be one of the guests.

Over thirty guests attended the party, and there were various reports of what happened. Some say Virginia was drunk to the point of being sick. Others remembered her only having two, maybe three drinks. Regardless of how drunk she was or was not, at one point she needed to use the bathroom. Arbuckle offered to let her use the one that connected to his bedroom. She accepted and took his hand while he walked her there. Arbuckle also said loudly, as to address the room, “I’ve waited five years for you and now I’ve got you!” They entered the bedroom with no struggle; the door shut and then locked.

The party was in full swing. Arbuckle and Rappe were locked in seclusion. A tenant on the same floor called the front desk to complain about the noise. The phone in Arubuckle’s suite rang; it was the front desk asking if the raging party could rage a little more quietly. Then, depending on the witness, a bloodcurdling scream erupted from the bedroom. Arbuckle could be heard moaning loudly. Rappe shouted either, “He’s killing me!” or “Don’t kill me!” One of the guests, Maude Delmont, began pounding the door with her shoe, shouting for Arbuckle to leave Rappe alone.

Another call was placed to the front desk—this time from inside Arbuckle’s suite. The manager arrived within minutes. He knocked hard on the bedroom door, demanding it be opened. The door was opened to reveal Arbuckle partially clothed and dripping with sweat. Rappe, who lay on the bed, appeared to be in immense pain. Again, depending on the witness, Virginia Rappe was nude, wearing some clothes, or had her clothes torn from her. A doctor was phoned in, who diagnosed the young woman as suffering from alcohol poisoning. The remedy … let her sleep it off. Arbuckle wanted the girl out of his bed. A different room in the hotel was booked for her to recover in. Arbuckle added the charge to his bill.

Rappe was moved to another room where two partygoers, Maude Delmont and Zey Prevon, kept a vigil at her bedside. Rappe was not getting better. In fact, she was getting worse. Delmont called a second doctor who called for an ambulance. Virginia Rappe had suffered internal injuries. Her bladder had been ripped. She was transferred to Wakefield Sanatorium and underwent emergency surgery.

Fatty Arbuckle helped Buster Keaton become a star.

Only two people know for certain what happened behind the locked doors of that bedroom. One died four days later. The other was the primary suspect. Unsurprisingly vulgar rumors of what could have happened were floating around. Arbuckle raped her. He raped her twice; the second time caused internal damage. He violated the unconscious woman with a bottle. He violated her with a large piece of ice. Lots of ideas but no smoking gun.

Before Virginia died she was in and out of consciousness, running a high fever. A day nurse named Jeanne Jamison said that during a moment of consciousness the patient told her, “Arbuckle did it. Don’t let him get away with it.” Virginia Rappe died September 9, 1921, after peritonitis (an inflammation of the membrane that forms the lining of the abdominal cavity) had set in.

“He’s killing me!”

When reporters heard movie actress Virginia Rappe had died, they followed the trail that lead to Maude Delmont, who held back nothing. She told reporters of the party, the locked bedroom, the scream, and the man who had been alone with Virginia. Arbuckle was clueless about the events unfolding and continued with his Labor Day plans to take a trip with friends. When he returned home he found the authorities at his front door. They were there to question him about a suspicious death. Arbuckle phoned his attorney who told the funny man to keep his mouth shut. Arbuckle had already told the lawmen that he had never been alone with the girl.

Virginia Rappe, the young actress whose mysterious death led to the demise of Fatty Arbuckle’s career.

Arbuckle voluntarily went to the police station. He answered questions, provided a written statement, then later turned himself in to be arrested. Arbuckle and his lawyer anticipated a large bail, which they’d pay, and then they would fight and beat the charges. What neither Arbuckle nor his attorney expected to hear were the words “murder” and “no bail.” Arbuckle went straight to jail. His hired legal help told him not to worry, this would get fixed.

Arbuckle’s arrest launched Hollywood’s first scandal. It threatened to consume not just Fatty Arbuckle, but the entire film industry. The morals of actors and filmmakers were called into question. Groups set out to put an end to what they perceived to be the modern-day Sodom and Gomorra. Several of Arbuckle’s movies were either already in theaters or preparing for release. As the news exploded, almost all theaters declined to screen any more of Arbuckle’s pictures. They reasoned that it was better to see how the trial played out and avoid the wrath of moral groups.

Self-imposed censorship would not be the only fallout from Arbuckle’s arrest. Studios began inserting a morality clause into actors’ contracts. It would be this morality clause that would later threaten the careers of Clark Gable and Joan Crawford when their private affair almost turned public. It wasn’t about Hollywood wanting to be moral: it was about putting on the air of trying to do the right thing. Studios were aware of the troublesome activities their employees engaged in. As long as it stayed out of the paper, and the artist could still perform, no one cared.

Arbuckle stood firm—he had done nothing wrong. During the pretrial his attorney said, “When a man steals, he sets out to break the law. When a man drives drunk, he is in the process of breaking the law. But Roscoe Arbuckle set out to do no more than have sexual relations with a girl he had known for five years. I’d guess that a million men set out every night to try and do the same thing Arbuckle did, cohabitate with a woman.” Witnesses and evidence were paraded in front of the grand jury. Most of it was bad news for the defendant. A dress with torn lace belonging to the victim was retrieved from Maude Delmont’s trash can. Delmont had also changed part of her statement, saying that Arbuckle had “dragged” Rappe into the bedroom. Until then it had been asserted that Arbuckle held Rappe’s hand when they walked into the bedroom together. However, Delmont also admitted, “I had at least ten drinks. I was drunk but I knew what I was doing. I might have acted foolishly but I was aware of it.” Followed by, “I didn’t exactly see Virginia and Arbuckle go into the bedroom, but I saw him drag her to the door. No, she did not make an outcry.” When asked what she did when the first doctor examined Rappe, Delmont replied, “I and the detective went around and drank all the gin and orange juice that was left in the glasses.” What to believe?

Other witnesses included Virginia’s boyfriend, Henry Lehrman, who testified, “I loved her very much. You know we were engaged. You know Arbuckle was an ignorant man. He had too much money and too much success. Now I hope the law punishes him.” Lehrman did not attend Rappe’s funeral, saying that he was “advised not to” but would not say who had advised him. Lehrman did send tiger lilies and proceeded to marry a different woman six months later. Arbuckle’s estranged wife, Minta Durfee, also chimed in, “I believe Roscoe is innocent. If they want me, I’ll go to the trial.” When asked about her opinion of Henry Lehrman, Durfee replied, “[He’s] tasteless and a climber,” and “He would never have married Miss Rappe, and he’s putting on a big show for all the publicity he can get out of it.”

Critics of Arbuckle would point out his mother’s grave was still unmarked despite all his fortunes. If he cared so little about paying proper respect for his own mother, why would he respect any other woman? Nora Arbuckle, Roscoe’s sister, told reporters that her brother was a kind person, and she knew he was innocent. Actor Rudolf Valentino said he’d always known Arbuckle to be a gentleman.

Prosecutors wanted murder in the first degree but the charges were reduced to manslaughter. Arbuckle could return home while he waited for the trial to begin. It was a small victory for the defense. The district attorney’s office, on the other hand, was outraged. They felt Arbuckle’s people had used money and intimidation in getting the charges reduced. Nurse Vera Cumberland claimed she was threatened and told not to testify. Zey Prevon changed the story she had originally told police. Now she claimed Arbuckle was a good guy, and she really didn’t see much at the party. Prosecutors felt she had been paid off and put their star witnesses under twenty-four-hour watch.

I have never done anything that I am ashamed of.

The first trial began. The defense called Betty Campbell, who had been at the party. During her testimony she said, “Fatty is not guilty. I am sure of it. During the party when I asked him where Virginia was, he said she wasn’t feeling well and he had sent her to the bedroom down the hall.” And, “He cared. It seems to me Virginia Rappe wasn’t feeling well even before she went into the bedroom.”

A strong witness for prosecution during the pretrial, Maude Delmont, was not called to the stand. Delmont was now facing legal woes of her own, as she was found to be a bigamist. Also, Delmont was known as “Madame Black”: she used girls by having them show up at parties and then claim a producer or director tried to rape them. They would use the allegations to extort money. The prosecution feared this would discredit her as a witness, so she stayed off the stand.

The prosecution brought in doctors who treated Rappe at the sanatorium to testify. It was their opinion that external force (rape) killed Rappe, not disease.

The defense opened their argument with claims Arbuckle was alone with Rappe for less than ten minutes. Anyone could have opened the door if there was trouble because Arbuckle never locked the door. Hotel detective George Glennon, the same detective Maude Delmont claimed she finished all the drinks with, gave his testimony, “Miss Rappe was in great pain. She was clutching at her abdomen and tearing at her clothes. I asked her if Arbuckle or anyone else had hurt her. She was indignant and swore no one had anything to do with it. She said Arbuckle had only been kind to her.”

Whenever possible the defense asked the same question, “Was Virginia Rappe drunk during the party?” The answer was always yes. One witness, Fred Fishbeck, replied, “Very.”

The original doctor to see Virginia Rappe at the St. Francis Hotel testified she had no bruises on her body when he examined her. Under oath he told the jury, “She constantly reiterated that she didn’t remember any sequence of events or when or how the pain started.” A former housekeeper also testified Rappe had “violent and threatening” spells of pain where she would tear at her clothes. Several more witnesses were called in who described Rappe going into spells of pain followed by tearing at her own clothes. These attacks were usually preceded by social or binge drinking. A valiant effort was being made to show the young woman’s death as a pre-existing condition.

Physical evidence was introduced. The prosecution claimed smeared fingerprints on a door proved Rappe fought to escape the bedroom. The defense called in a maid who said she had cleaned the suite, including the door in question. The fingerprints, the defense contended, could have belonged to anyone.

What everyone was waiting for finally happened. Roscoe Arbuckle took the stand to testify in his defense. His story was that he was merely trying to enjoy breakfast with friends when visitors descended onto his hotel room. He had intended to take a friend out for a ride in his car. When he went into his bathroom, he found Virginia on the floor. Worried for her safety he placed her on the bed and then went back to taking care of business in the washroom. When he checked on Virginia ten minutes later, he found she had fallen off the bed, so he called for help. During cross-examination, the prosecution did everything they could to poke holes in his story. They said his testimony was the seventh version of what he claimed happened that night. They called him a sex-mad pervert who raped a woman he couldn’t have. But Arbuckle stayed calm while answering questions and asserted that he was telling the whole truth when he recounted the series of events that took place that Labor Day weekend.

The jury began their deliberations. The first collection of ballots showed a count of eleven to one to acquit Arbuckle. The lone holdout was a woman who said she would continue to vote guilty until hell froze over. The final ballot tally still showed in favor of acquitting Arbuckle by ten to two. The presiding judge declared the jury hopelessly hung. There would be a second trial. Finding an impartial jury for a second trial was going to be difficult considering the heavy press coverage and sensational headlines during the first one.

Roscoe Arbuckle addressed the journalists and gave the following statement, “I wasn’t legally acquitted but I was morally acquitted. I am not guilty. I only tried to help Miss Rappe. I have never done anything that I am ashamed of. I have only tried all my life to give joy and happiness to the world. I hope the public will have faith in me and let me prove myself all over again.”

Arbuckle was allowed to prove himself all over again. The second trial began introducing all the same scenarios and evidence again. The biggest surprise for the second trial was the amended testimony of Zey Prevon, who initially said Rappe told her, “He hurt me.” This time Zey took the stand and said, “In the first trial I said I heard Virginia Rappe say, ‘I’m dying, I’m dying. He hurt me.’ That wasn’t entirely true. I did hear Virginia say, ‘I’m dying, I’m dying.’ I didn’t hear her say, ‘He hurt me’ or anything like that.” Zey Prevon continued, “Now you want to know why I lied? Well, Mr. Brady tried to force me to sign that little bit about ‘He hurt me.’ I didn’t want to. They locked me in a cell and said I’d never come out until I signed the statement.” First Delmont, now Prevon—prosecutors were losing all their star witnesses. “I had visions of spending the rest of my life in jail,” Prevon continued. “After I signed, they sent me home and guarded my house so I couldn’t leave. The days of the trial, they had me in the District Attorney’s office learning a script they had prepared for me.”

Prevon was told charges of perjury would be brought against her but they never were.

For a second time a jury was sent off to determine the fate of Roscoe Arbuckle. After thirty hours of deliberation, the ballots read eight votes not guilty and four votes guilty. After another fourteen hours of deliberating, the jurors took the vote to ballot again. This time the tide had changed: only three still thought the funny man innocent, and nine now thought him guilty. After more deliberating, the vote still didn’t change. Another hung jury was declared.

You would think after two mistrials the District Attorney’s office would drop the charges. Their pool of witnesses was thinning out. The physical evidence didn’t seem to prove anything except there were smudged fingerprints on the door. Twenty-four taxpayers could not come to consensus despite the time, resources, and money poured into the case. But prosecutors were determined to push on and requested a third trial. The request was granted.

The third time proved to be a charm for the comedian, who had visibly lost weight and seemed more serious. The defense made it a point to stress that Virginia Rappe was sick before she collapsed in Arbuckle’s bedroom. Even her dentist was called in to testify Rappe was a “nervous” patient, who had suffered extreme lower-abdominal pain during a tooth extraction. Another doctor took the stand to say that while there were no documented cases of a woman’s bladder rupturing during sex, there were numerous cases of men suffering heart attacks during the act of love. No one had yet to press murder or manslaughter charges against these women. The doctor declared it was an act of God where no one was to blame.

The jury was dismissed to deliberate. They returned six minutes later.

Zey Prevon would not testify this time. She had fled the country.

Prosecutors brought in a young woman who was engaged, aspired to be an actress, desired to have children, and happened to be the same age and size as Virginia Rappe. The reason? To show the jury what Rappe would have been like if she were still alive. While the move may have been big on sentiment, it did nothing to prove guilt.

Arbuckle’s defense team had the stronger hand. During their closing argument, the name of every witness who testified that the victim had a pre-existing condition was repeated. Arbuckle’s attorney emphasized his client’s innocence by saying the prosecutors had no evidence of murder. No evidence of any object used on Miss Rappe. No witness to what happened to Miss Rappe. It was tragic, but tragedy did not make Roscoe Arbuckle a murderer. Arbuckle was painted as a man who used his talents to make people happy. His reward for his gift was unjust.

The jury was dismissed to deliberate. They returned six minutes later. Roscoe “Fatty” Arbuckle was found not guilty. The jury, along with two alternates, did not stop at just acquitting the man, they also issued an apology to him.

Acquittal is not enough for Roscoe Arbuckle. We feel that a great injustice has been done him. We feel also that it was our only plain duty to give him this exoneration. There was not the slightest proof adduced to connect him in any way with the commission of a crime.

He was manly throughout the case and told a straightforward story on the witness stand, which we all believed.

The happening at the hotel was an unfortunate affair for which Arbuckle, so the evidence shows, was in no way responsible.

We wish him success and hope that the American people will take the judgment of fourteen men and women who have sat listening for thirty-one days to the evidence that Roscoe Arbuckle is entirely innocent and free from all blame.

Arbuckle was found guilty of one crime: possession of alcohol during Prohibition. He paid the maximum fine allowable, $500. After the trial he had faced, they might as well have told him to sit in the corner.

He was a free man but his freedom came with a seven-hundred-thousand-dollar price made payable to his attorney. Arbuckle had lost his home and the car he loved. A jury found him innocent, but segments of the public felt he had gotten away with murder. Letters of complaint poured into the studio, and theaters that projected Arbuckle’s movies had their screens damaged. Arbuckle was told public perception would have to cool down before he could star in pictures again.

Arbuckle found an ally during his career depression in a woman named Doris Deene. She became his second wife in 1925. Deene told Arbuckle he had a gift, and it would be a sin to waste it. Maybe he needed to come back as a different person, but he needed to come back. Arbuckle did come back, this time as a director using the pseudonym William Goodrich. He had talent behind the camera just as he did in front of it. Yet, when the true identity of “B. Good” was revealed, the complaints rolled in again.

Arbuckle traveled to the East Coast and performed in a play called Baby Mine. It was a hit, leaving Arbuckle to wonder if the tide was beginning to change. He began a stage tour that stopped dead in its tracks in Minneapolis. The protestors came out again, and his show was canceled. The rejection was huge. Arbuckle’s drinking became heavier. He divorced his wife and was arrested several more times, usually for speeding or partying.

Another attempt for a comeback was made when Arbuckle opened the Plantation Club in Hollywood. No one protested the comic performing in his own club. Business was even profitable … until the stock market crash. The doors to the Plantation Club closed.

Arbuckle was married for a third time to an actress named Adie McPhail. His love life was getting another chance, as was his movie career when Jack Warner approached him to start working in two-reel comedies again. Warner Brothers studios would even let Arbuckle work under his real name. The films were a success, and on June 29, 1933, Roscoe “Fatty” Arbuckle signed a contract to make a feature-length movie. Arbuckle said it was the happiest day of his life. It was also his last. Roscoe Arbuckle died of a heart attack that very night.

A script for a film about Arbuckle’s life exists. Over the years, a variety of actors have been associated with playing the role of Fatty: John Belushi, John Candy, Chris Farley, standup comedian Jim Gaffigan, and Jackass stunt person Preston Lacy. However, filming never began with any of the proposed leads, and the project is said to be shelved. Fatty just can’t win.