Wednesday, December 25, 2013

Fatty Arbuckle

Roscoe "Fatty" Arbuckle was one of America's first silent movie stars.  He dominated the film industry from 1914-1920 often appearing with female co-star Mabel Normand.  Despite his prodigious weight, he was graceful and acrobatic doing somersaults and landing on his feet.  He was a purveyor of the pie-in-the-face slapstick routine that came to embody silent film.  He typically portrayed a country hayseed who struggles in the big city and he co-starred in several films with Buster Keaton and Charlie Chaplin.

Arbuckle was born in 1887. He weighed 13 pounds at birth and his mother suffered injuries during his delivery that would later contribute to her death.  His father was convinced he was illegitimate and named him after the disgraced Senator Roscoe Conkling.  His father beat him throughout his childhood.  After Arbuckle's mother died when he was 12, his father kicked him out of the house.

Arbuckle had a beautiful singing voice.  He won a local talent show and joined a traveling vaudeville company.  In 1908 he married actress Minta Durfee.  A year later he appeared in his first movie Ben's Kid.  He soon joined the Mack Sennett Company as producer/director and became a performer in the Keystone Cop comedy films.

Arbuckle's weight was part of his comedic appeal but he refused to use it to get cheap laughs.  He would not allow himself to be stuck in a doorway or a chair.  He despised his screen nickname and when someone called him "Fatty" he would say, "I've got a name, you know."

Audiences loved Arbuckle and his films were smash hits.  By 1914, Paramount paid him $1,000 a day plus 25% of all profits.  They also gave him complete artistic control.  By 1918, he was signed to a three-year, $3 million contract.  He began living the high life, indulging in heavy food and drink.  His weight shot up to 350 pounds and he developed health problems including a severe infection in his leg that nearly led to amputation.  Arbuckle managed to shed 80 pounds but he became addicted to morphine in the process.

On September 5, 1921, needing a break from his hectic schedule, Arbuckle drove to San Francisco with two friends.  They rented three rooms at the swanky St. Francis Hotel.  Prohibition was in full swing, but the group obtained illegal hooch and invited some girls for a raucous hotel party.  At some point, Arbuckle found himself alone in a bedroom with a 30-year old model/actress named Virginia Rappe.  (She was one of Mack Sennett's "bathing beauties.")

The ensuing details have become the stuff of legend but a few facts are clear. Arbuckle was alone with Rappe.  Rappe became seriously ill.  The hotel doctor examined Rappe and determined she was simply drunk.  Two days later Rappe was rushed to the hospital where she died from peritonitis caused by a ruptured bladder.

The press immediately blamed Arbuckle for Rappe's death.  Bambina Delmont, a guest at the party, told police that Arbuckle raped Rappe.  Police concluded that Arbuckle's weight caused Rappe's bladder to rupture.  Rappe's Manager further suggested that Arbuckle used a piece of ice to simulate sex with Rappe.  By the time the story appeared in newspapers, the object had become a broken coke bottle instead of a piece of ice.  (Witnesses later testified that Arbuckle rubbed ice on Rappe's stomach to ease her pain.)

Arbuckle denied any wrongdoing but William Randolph Hearst's "yellow journalism" machine had a field day.  Hearst's newspapers began running nationwide stories portraying Arbuckle as "a gross lecher who used his weight to overpower innocent girls."  Hearst would later admit that the Arbuckle Scandal "sold more newspapers than any event since the sinking of the Lusitania."

There was no hard evidence that Arbuckle committed rape.  But one of the party guests claimed Rappe made a deathbed statement that "Roscoe hurt me." Arbuckle was subsequently arrested and charged with manslaughter.  He spent three weeks in jail before he was released on bail.

Morality groups called for Arbuckle to be sentenced to death.  Studio executives ordered their employees not to publicly support Arbuckle.  Charlie Chaplin never commented on the incident but Buster Keaton disobeyed studio demands and vocally defended Arbuckle.  Public outrage was so inflamed that during the first trial someone fired a gunshot at Arbuckle's wife Minta Durfee as she entered the San Francisco courthouse.

There would be three trials.  Key witness Bambina Delmont was not allowed to testify after it was learned she'd attempted to extort money from Arbuckle's lawyers.  She also had a long criminal record for extortion and fraud.  The first trial resulted in a hung jury.  Ten jurors voted "not guilty," two voted "guilty." One of the "guilty" jurors was a woman named Helen Hubbard whose husband did business with the D.A.'s office.  She told jurors she would "vote guilty until hell freezes over."

The second trial also resulted in a hung jury.  This time the vote was 9-3 favoring "not guilty."  Two witnesses who previously testified against Arbuckle stated that District Attorney Matthew Brady forced them to lie or they would be prosecuted for libel.

During the trials, it was discovered that Virginia Rappe had a history of cystitis that flared up when she drank.  She'd also undergone several abortions including a recent botched abortion that nearly killed her.  She'd been complaining of severe stomach pains in the weeks before the St. Francis Hotel incident.  Doctors found no evidence of rape and no external cause for the ruptured bladder.

The third trial resulted in a unanimous Not Guilty verdict.  The jury debated for only six minutes before rendering their decision.  They issued a rare public apology writing "Acquittal is not enough for Roscoe Arbuckle.  We feel that a great injustice has been done to him as there was not the slightest proof to connect him in any way with the commission of a crime...Roscoe Arbuckle is entirely innocent and free from all blame."

Although he was cleared of all charges, Roscoe was guilty in the court of public opinion.  The months of negative press destroyed his reputation.  Arbuckle owed more than $700,000 in attorney fees and he was forced to sell his house and his cars to pay for his legal defense.

During the time of the trial, the US Government had been threatening to regulate the film industry with new rules of censorship and guidelines for how stars could behave on and off screen.  Fearing government intrusion, the studios decided to self-regulate.  They created the Motion Pictures Producers and Distributors of America (MPPDA) and named former Postmaster General Will Hays as president. This led to the "Hays Code," the first official censor of American movies.

Within a week of Arbuckle's acquittal, Hays banned him from appearing in movies and demanded all his films be pulled from circulation.  Arbuckle, once the most powerful star in Hollywood, was Blacklisted.  The ban was ultimately rescinded, but Arbuckle's career was effectively over.  He'd become the poster boy for the dangers and excesses of Hollywood.  Studios began inserting morality clauses in star contracts and public relations firms arose to whitewash the rumored sins of Hollywood's A-List.

Buster Keaton was one of the few old friends who came to Arbuckle's aid.  He hired him to write and co-direct his movies including the film classic Sherlock, Jr..  (Arbuckle worked under the pseudonym "William Goodrich," a riff on Keaton's suggested name "Will B. Good.")  Though his career resumed, Arbuckle fell into a deep depression and returned to drinking.  Actress Louise Brooks said, "He made no attempt to direct.  He sat in his chair like a man dead."

In 1932, Arbuckle seemed on the verge of redemption.  He appeared in six two-reel comedies to great success.  Warner Brothers offered him a feature-length film.  On the day he signed the contract, an ebullient Arbuckle said, "This is the best day of my life." That night he suffered a severe heart attack and died in his sleep.  He was 46 years old.  (6" x 8", black ink print)

Wednesday, December 11, 2013

Elliott Smith

This past October marked the ten-year anniversary of musician Elliott Smith's death.  Elliott wrote intensely personal songs about his struggles with depression, alcoholism and drug addiction.  His music was intricate and gorgeous with layered vocals and sweet melodies reminiscent of Brian Wilson.  He possessed a soft tenor whisper in contrast to his weathered face and melancholic lyrics.  He was one of us and his pain was our pain.  As his ex-girlfriend Mary Lou Lord said, "Elliott made music for the sad kids."

Elliott Smith was born Steven Paul Smith in 1969 in Omaha, Nebraska.  His parents divorced when he was 6 months old and he moved with his mother Bunny, a music teacher, to Duncanville, Texas.  Elliott had a difficult childhood saying he might've been sexually abused by his stepfather.  The events later appeared in his song "Some Song" which featured the lyrics "Charlie beat you up week after week and when you grow up you're going to be a freak."

Elliott learned to play piano and guitar by the time he was nine and he wrote his first song "Fantasy" at 10.  At 14, he moved to Portland, Oregon with his father Gary Smith, a psychologist.  Around this time he began experimenting with drugs and alcohol. After graduating from Hampshire College in 1991, Elliott formed the band Heatmiser with classmate Neil Gust.  They moved to Oregon and released four albums.  Elliott worked odd jobs to survive: construction, house painting and transplanting bamboo trees.

In 1994, Elliott released his first solo album Roman Candle.  He followed this up with the self-titled album Elliott Smith in 1995.  The album cover featured fuzzy images of bodies falling from a building.  His third album Either/Or came out in 1996; the album name came from a book by Kierkegaard dealing with existential angst and despair.  (Elliott was a philosophy major in college.)  By this time, Elliott was drinking heavily and taking anti-depressants.  Friends attempted an intervention but Elliott rebelled, moving to Brooklyn.

Filmmaker Gus Van Sant used Elliott's music for the soundtrack of Good Will Hunting.  The song "Miss Misery" was nominated for an Academy Award leading to the surreal scene of Elliott, in a rumpled white suit and greasy hair, playing live at the 1998 Oscars.  He was terrified until fellow nominee Celine Dion told him, "You're going to do great, sweetie."  This calmed him down and Elliott enjoyed himself saying, "I wouldn't want to live in that world but it was fun to walk around the moon for a day."

In 1998, Elliott signed with Dreamworks Records.  Around this same time he fell into a depression and spoke openly about suicide.  His first Dreamworks-era album was XO, written over many nights at the Luna Lounge in Manhattan. XO would be the best-selling album of his career but Elliott was suspicious of commercial success and he disliked his experience with a big label.  "I threw myself into it because it seemed to make my friends happy."

In 1999, Elliott moved to Los Angeles settling in Silverlake.  He released the album Figure 8 in 2000, the last one completed in his lifetime.  His condition deteriorated as he began using crack cocaine and became addicted to heroin. Neighbors reported seeing him walking the streets alone at night mumbling to himself.

By 2001, Elliott displayed signs of paranoia, believing a white van was following him wherever he went.  He also believed Dreamworks was trying to steal music from his computer.  He began having difficulties performing live, forgetting lyrics. He rarely slept and barely ate, living on ice cream.  Elliott demanded that Dreamworks release him from his contract or he would take his own life.

In 2003, Elliott tried to turn his life around and began treatment for his addiction with a technique called neurotransmitter restoration (injecting amino acids as a form of detox).  He also started work on a new album Basement On A Hill.  He moved in with his girlfriend Jennifer Chiba and the relationship gave him a sense of optimism.  His life seemed to be improving.

On October 21, 2003, Elliott and Chiba had an argument at their Silverlake home. As the argument worsened, Smith threatened to commit suicide.  Chiba locked herself in the bathroom.  She heard a scream.  She returned to the living room and saw Elliott with a knife sticking out of his chest.  Elliott died 20 minutes after arriving at the hospital.  He was 34 years old.

The coroner's report on Elliott's death stated "...several aspects of the circumstances are atypical of suicide and raise the possibility of homicide." Notably, there were no "hesitation wounds" prior to the stabbing and there were lacerations on both his hands and under his right arm that could be "possible defensive wounds."  The toxicology report revealed he was clean of illegal drugs at the time of death; only non-abusive amounts on anti-depressants and medications for ADD were found in his system.

Though some fans blamed Chiba for Elliott's death, she was never charged.  A few years later she tried claiming money from Elliott's estate for managing his career but the State of California ruled against her since she was an unlicensed talent agent.

Though Elliott lived in Los Angeles and played all over town, I never saw him play live, but in 2006, pianist Christopher O'Riley performed a tribute at the Getty Museum.  My wife and I attended and after the performance, my wife pointed to a middle-aged man in the lobby.  She said, "He looks just like Elliott.  I bet that's his dad."  I urged her to approach him and despite her shyness, she agreed.  The man was, in fact, Gary Smith and for the next half hour he and my wife talked like old friends.  He explained how much he appreciated the love shown his son.

Every October on the anniversary of Elliott's death his fans turn out in droves to Solutions Audio in Silverlake where the album cover of Figure 8 was photographed.  They write farewell messages on the wall and leave flowers, candles and empty bottles of alcohol.  At some point someone sings the song "Waltz #2."  The lyrics provide a perfect coda for the sad day.  As Elliott sang so beautifully, "I'm here today and expected to stay on and on and on...I'm never going to know you now but I'm going to love you anyhow."  (5" x 7", black ink print)