The Fatal Glass of Beer


(Because the film is so crammed with irony, sight gags and many 
other comic devices, I've taken the liberty to add bits of running 
commentary with the transcription of the dialogue. For the sake of 
clarity and attribution, Fields is referred to as "WC" before his 
dialogue, rather than as "Pa" or "Mr. Snavely.") 


(Accompanying the film's credits are the sounds of a dog barking 
and a tinny, stride piano tune.) 

(The mood of the piano music now takes an ominous turn, in the 
manner of melodramatic silent-movie accompaniment, as the first 
shots of the snowy, windswept north country fade in.) 

(At the bottom of a valley sits an isolated, snow-covered mining 
cabin.) 

(Shot cuts to the inside of the cabin, where we see "Mr. Snavely"-
-W.C. Fields--sitting and roping together packs of provisions for 
his imminent trek "over the rim" toward his equally isolated 
homestead cabin, where he lives with "Mrs. Snavely," aka "Ma".) 

(An unexpected knock at the door prompts Snavely to stand and hold 
up his lantern.)

W.C.: "Who's thar?"

Mountie "OP": "Officer Posthlewhistle of the Canadian Mounted."

(He enters)

W.C: "Hello, Officer."

OP: "Good Evenin', Mr. Snavely."

W.C.: "Still snowing?"

OP: "I don't know. To tell ya the truth, I never looked." (As OP 
knocks layers of snow off his coat with his glove. NOTE: This gag, 
like many others in Fields' canon, may have stemmed from reality. 
In Robert Lewis Taylor's standard 1949 biography, W.C. Fields: His 
Follies and Fortunes (St. Martin's Press, New York), there's an 
anecdote about a dwarf with a low I.Q. named Shorty whom Fields 
had hired for his stage act and to perform personal valet 
services. Fields sent Shorty out on a chore, but he returned late-
-covered in snow. When Fields asked him if it was snowing, Shorty 
responded: "I don't know. I didn't notice.") 

W.C.: "Get your man?"

OP: "Well, not yet, but I got my eye on 'im."

W.C.: "Well, that's somethin'." (W.C. hangs his lantern and sits) 

(Note: Throughout this scene, notice the noisy creaking and 
shaking of the cabin.) (OP takes off his coat and sits.)

OP: "You pullin' out?"

W.C.: "Figurin' on goin' over the rim tonight."

OP: "How's your son Chester" You hear'd from him lately?"

(WC stands as OP sits down--for no apparent reason.)

W.C.: "I ain't a-hear'd from Chester it'll be a year come 
Michaelmas."* (*NOTE: Michaelmas is a religious holiday or "feast 
day" celebrating the archangel Michael--of the Jewish and 
Christian testaments--observed on September 29.) 

OP: "I was thinkin' of the song that you writ about. I wanted to 
sing it to mah wife last night. (WC sits.) Ya know, we gotta boy 
just about Chester's age, who's gotta hankerin' to go to the city. 
(This elicits a serious glance from WC). Have ya got your dulcimer 
here?

W.C.: "Yes I have, officer."

OP: "I wonder if you'd mind singin' me that song?" (He places a 
hand on W.C.'s shoulder.)

W.C.: "I'd be tickled to death to." (WC reaches over to a chest 
and pulls out an electric fan). You'll have to excuse me though if 
my voice isn't just right. You know, we can't get any Ipecac* up 
in this part of the country. (*Note: Even if he could, an emetic, 
or vomit inducer such as Ipecac, wouldn't help his voice.) 

(W.C. puts the fan and other junk on the floor.)

OP: "Go right ahead, Mr. Snavely."

(W.C. pulls out a dulcimer.)

W.C.: "You won't consider me rude if I play with my mitts on, will 
ya?"

OP: "Not at all Mr. Snavely, not at all."

(W.C. practice strums dulcimer, with big mittens on. OP assumes a 
pose of rapt attention.)

W.C.: (begins "singing") (*Note: SEE footnote at bottom of page 
about this song). 

"There was once a poor boy,

and he left his country home,

and came to the city

to look for work.

He promised his ma and pa

he would lead a civ'lized life, 

and always shun the fatal curse

of drink.

(both men look at each other in silent agreement.)

Once in the city,

he got a situation in a quarry,

And there he made the acquaintance 

of some college students.

(In a flashback, we see the bow-tied, bespeckled, straw-hatted 
Chester--in white attire--entering a saloon through swinging 
doors, while patrons urge him to come in and drink.)

Little thought they were demons,

for they wore the best of clothes, 

but the clothes do not always make the gentleman.

(cut back to OP and WC, nodding in agreement.) (Note: Fields had a 
lifelong mistrust of "well-dressed gentlemen" borne of being 
snookered by many during his early days in show business.) 

They tempted him to drink, 

and they said he was a coward;

At last he took the fatal glass 

of beer.

(cut back to Chester, in exaggerated poses, at first refusing 
drink; then downing the brew. The shock of the act causes his legs 
to snap together and eyes to shoot open. He slams the mug to the 
floor; it bounces and doesn't break.)

He'd found what he'd done 

he dashed the glass down on the floor,

and he staggered through the door

with delerium tree-mens.

(Chester spins out the flapping doors. Note: Delerium tremens, 
from one drink.)

(cut back to WC and OP; the latter is now visibly moved, wiping 
away tears and sobbing.)

Once upon the sidewalk 

He met a Salvation Army girl,

and wickedly be broke

her tambourine.

Oh she said, 

'Heaven bless you' (WC mistakenly--but actually for intentional 
comic effect--lifts his hand off the dulcimer while it's still 
"playing.")

And placed a mark upon his brow, 

with a kick she'd learned

before she had been saved.

(A fully attired Salvation Army lady pops a wicked high kick to 
Chester's head; he falls flat to the pavement.) (Cut back to WC 
and OP)

Now, as a moral to young men 

who come down to the city,

don't go 'round breaking

people's tambourines."

(OP cries audibly.)

OP: "That certainly is a sad song." (OP cries rather 
unconvicingly, and covers his face with a hanky--probably to hide 
laughter.) (WC pats his back.)

WC: "Don't cry constable. It IS a sad song." (WC throws the 
dulcimer into the chest and slams the lid with a loud crash.)

(WC stands)

"My uncle Ichabod said: 'Speakin' of the city, it ain't no place 
for women, gal, but perty men go thar." (OP cries loudly at this.) 
(WC pulls up his pack, ready to leave.)

"Always said somethin' that would split your sides a-laughin.' 
Comical old gentleman, he was." (WC opens door.)

"Well, I think I'll be a high-tailin' it over the rim."

(WC looks out the door) "And it ain't a fit night out, for man or 
beast." (A wad of snow is thrust into his face by an unseen hand.)

(Stock footage of a dog-sled team leaving. WC shouts commands to 
barking dogs on the soundtrack. In the next shot, one of several 
hilariously bad "back-projection" shots, WC is shown "whipping" a 
team that includes a dachsund whose feet don't touch the snow. Not 
only does the whip not crack or even go over the sled, but the 
dachsund wriggles himself loose from his straps without being run 
over by the barely "moving" team.)

"Mush Balto, mush ..."

(WC is shown "running" behind his sled, to emphasize the cheapness 
of the back projection. Then, as he spits some "snow" from his 
mouth, he numbles--as an aside--an almost inaudible, but funny, 
inside "Hollywood" joke about the painted cereal used for fake 
movie snow.)

"Tastes more like cornflakes."

(As the team dashes away, a stock footage coyote/wolf is shown, 
while on the soundtrack a silly, sickly yowl that doesn't match 
the image is heard.)

(Next scene fades into WC's home cabin. WC enters and Indians in 
full headdress are sitting in the room. Before he enters, he turns 
to face the outdoors.)

WC: "And it ain't a fit night out, for man or beast."

(Snow is throw in his face again.)

(WC slams a large stone onto a table and paces the room, unaware 
of the Indians right in front of him.)

WC: "Hello thar. Hello, thar. Hello."

(He then sees a phone; picks it up.)

"Hello."

Indian: "How, Mr. Snavely."

WC: "How, chief." 

Indian: "How." 

WC: "And how. Vamoos, oo-scray.* (*NOTE: Fields clearly means 
"amscray," which is pig latin for "scram." Using the same 
construction, oo-scray actually translates into "scroo" (screw), 
as in "screw off." Perhaps this was Fields' attempt to secretly 
use a vulgarity and trick the censors. Or maybe it's just supposed 
to be "Indian" pig latin.) 

(Indians leave, WC goes to door.)

"It ain't a fit night out, for man or beast." (He gets snow in the 
face again.)

WC: (to nobody) "And it's been a stormin' for almost a fort-nit."

(In the next bit--a sight/prop gag--WC pulls the string on a bulb 
to the left of a window; the bulb on the right lights up. He then 
pulls the string on the right bulb, and the left one lights.)

Mrs. Snavely, aka "Ma": "Who's thar?"

WC: "It 's me, Ma." (Ma empties kettle of soup into a large 
serving bowl on the table.)

Ma: "Did ya find any gold down in the gulch, Pa?" (WC pulls snow 
out of his pockets.)

WC: "Found that NU-get ... be on the table." (Ma picks up the 
rock.)

Ma: "A NU-get; a golden NU-get. Just what ya been a -combin' them 
thar hills for for nigh over 30 years. It must be worth about a 
hundred dollars."

WC: "Help to pay off the mortgage on the old shack. That fellow 
from Medicine Hat been here again?"

Ma: "Yes, and he wants more money."

WC: "Drat his hide."

Ma: "He wants more money, and if he don't get it, he'll take our 
malamute." (WC sits down to table and ladles soup into his bowl.)

WC: "He won't take 'ole Balto, my lead dog."

Ma: "Why not?"

WC: "Because I 'et 'im."

Ma: "You 'ET 'im."

WC: "He was mighty good with mustard. We was a-mushin' over Blind 
Nag Rim last night. I got mighty hungry."

(WC picks up a stick of bread 3 to 4-feet long. he breaks it over 
the table edge, compares the sizes of the "halves," and gives Ma 
the piece half the size of the one he takes.) 

Ma: "You better take your muck-lucks off, Pa. Captain 
(Pippertone?) of the Canadian Mounted smuggled a police dog across 
the border for ya."

(WC repeatedly dunks his huge bread and raises it to his lips 
throughout this long scene, but never bites it.)

WC: "Smuggled a police dog across the border for me?"

Ma: "Yes, and he says for ya to keep it under your hat."

WC: "How big is it?"

Ma: "About so high ... (Ma's hand hovers 5 feet above the floor.)

WC: "He's crazy."

Ma: (wistfully) Pa, it's just 3 years today since they put our 
dear son in jail for stealing them there bonds. (Cuts away to a 
shot of Chester being led into prison yard.) And I know he never 
stole 'em. (Cut back to WC/Ma)

WC: "Sure he never stole 'em. Our Chester never stole nothing from 
nobody. Hardly ever."

Ma: "Do ya think he'll come a headin' for home, when they turn him 
loose from that plague-ed jail?"

WC: "I reckon, guess, and calculate he will, Ma. (Sound of knock 
at door.) (WC jumps from his chair to stand.)

"Who' s thar?" (Door opens; Chester enters.)

WC: "Chester!" (The would-be "tender moment" is shattered by WC's 
distractingly funny "accident" of sticking his foot in a bucket, 
dragging and scraping it along the floor, then kicking it off with 
a loud crash--obscuring the dialogue.)

"Our son, back again! Chester!" (Ma embraces son.)

Ma: "Chester, my darling boy."

WC: (Going to stand at the open door, for no reason other than to 
continue the snow-in-face gag.) "And it ain't a fit night out, for 
man or beast." (Snow in face.) (Ma cries on Chester's shoulder.)

WC: "Don't cry Ma. We got our son back again, ain't we? Welcome 
home Chester."

Chester/"CH": "Thank ya, Pa."

WC: "But I don't suppose we'll have him with us long."

(WC ambles over to the table, props his right leg on the chair and 
delivers a soliloquy to the audience.)

"Once the city

gets into a bo-hoy's sy-hystem,

he a-loses his a -hankarin'

for the co-hountry." (he walks back to table.)

"Sit down Chester."

CH: "Thank ya, pa." (They all sit.)

Ma: "Will ya have some soup, Chester?"

WC: "That's my soup, Ma. (They pass bowls around.) "Hand me that 
bread I was dunkin', will ya? Thanks."

CH: "Dad, I ain't ever gonna leave the old farm agin. I've come 
back here to stay, with you and Ma. And I ain't ever gonna leave 
agin."

(Throughout this scene, WC continues to dunk and not eat the 
bread, and stuffs crackers into his bulging mouth. As the scene 
gets more "emotional," WC's sobs cause him to spit the crackers 
all over the table. He then tilts his head causing the "snow" atop 
his fur cap to fall into his soup.)

(Chester and Ma are crying.)

(Chester continues:)

CH: "It's s'good to see ya both agin, and I'm s' glad to be back 
home with you and Ma that I can't talk. I'd like to go to my 
little bedroom, and lay on the bed, and cry like I was a baby 
agin."

(All let out a cry here, but it's obvious Chester's "crying" 
barely conceals laughter.)

Ma: "There, there. Go to your room and have a good cry dear. I 
know how ya feel." (Chester and Ma get up to exit.)

CH: "I feel s' tired, I think I'll go to bed."

WC: (with food in mouth) Why don't you lie down and take a little 
rest first, Chester?" (WC rises.)

CH: "Well, goodnight Pa."

WC: "Goodnight Chester."

CH: "Goodnight Ma."

Ma: "Goodnight Chester."

WC: "Sleep well, Chester."

CH: "Thank ya Pa, you too."

WC: "Thank you, Chester."

Ma: "Sleep well Chester."

CH: "Thank ya Ma, you sleep well."

Ma: "Thank ya."

WC: "Don't forget to open the window a bit, Chester."

CH: "Don't forget to open yours a bit, Pa."

WC: "I won't, Chester."

Ma: "Yes, don't forget to open your window a bit, Chester."

CH: "Put yours up a bit too, Ma."

WC: "Good night Chester."

Ma: "Good night Chester."

CH: "Good night, Pa."

WC: "Good night."

CH: "Good night, Ma."

Ma: "Good night."

WC: "Good night."

CH: "Good night."

WC: "GOOD NIGHT ... Chester."

(W.C. takes a scarf off his neck, throws it on the floor, pulls 
one that looks exactly the same off a hanger and throws it around 
his neck.)

WC: "I think I'll go out and milk the elk." (He picks up a lantern 
and bucket and opens the door to exit.)

Ma: "Don't forget your moose horn, Pa." (He grabs horn off wall.)

WC: "Thank ya, Ma." (He stands at the door.)

"And it ain't a fit night out, for man or beast." (He gets snow in 
face.)

(During the next sequence, W.C. acts in front of several 
hilariously phony background screens; most notably an oversized 
stampeding herd of elk. Note here, among other things, that W.C. 
doesn't seem the slightest bit worried about the "stampede." Note 
also looping and jump cuts (!) on the background film. It's quite 
obvious here that Fields' use of bad backgrounds is an intentional 
parody of "serious" films that use such studio techniques.)

(We see stock shots of an elk herd, alternating with shots of W.C. 
in the "snow.")

(W.C. pulls out his moosehorn.)

WC: "LENA! Lena honey! Papa's callin'! Yoo hoo! Papa's callin' ya!

(WC blows horn and its deep resonating sound seems to attract the 
elk.)

"LENA!"

(He blows the horn again several times, but now it sounds like a 
spent duck call. The elk "back away.")

WC: "Ah, the old embouchure ain't what it used to be."

(Now, W.C. steps before the background screen, filled with too-
large elk, and talks to the animals.)

WC: "Oh Lena! Hey, Elmer, have you seen Lena? Tell her Mr. Snavely 
wants to ... Oh LEEN ... uh huhm (clears throat after yodel) ...

It's certainly a bright moonlit night tonight.

(W.C. lifts his unlit lantern and blows into it - for no reason.)

Oooh LE-ENA ... uh hum ...

Hello Lena!

Hey Lena, it's me, come here.

Dontcha know me? - Mr. Snavely! (elk continue running.)

Drat her old hide!"

(W.C. still holding a bucket, walks over to a water well pump.)

(He pumps the well, and out fall ice chunks into his bucket.)

(MEANWHILE, back at the homestead, Chester is sitting on his bed 
in his pajamas. His Ma speaks.)

Ma: "Chester, did you steal them bonds?"

CH: "Yes Ma, I stole them bonds. I was a bank messenger, and they 
caught me fair and square. I wasn't framed."

Ma: "I know'd you stole 'em, but I never would admit it to your 
father. If he thought you stole 'em, it would break his poor old 
heart. Never tell him any different. (She strokes his brow.) Good 
Night Chester."

CH: "Good Night, Ma."

(W.C. enters cabin and turns to look out the door.)

WC: "And it ain't a fit night out for man or beast." (Snow's 
thrown in his face.)

(He dumps the ice into a large bucket. Ma enters the room and sets 
a white bowl and pitcher on the table.)

WC: "Has Chester gone to bed yet, Ma?"

Ma: "I don't think so, Pa." (She exits.)

(Note: In terms of real-time continuity, it takes an inordinate 
amount of time--most of the second half of the film--for Chester 
to go to bed.)

(With ma gone from the room, WC checks to see if the "coast is 
clear," in wonderfully hokey poses. He even looks out a hole in 
the window, only to once again get show in the face. "Dramatic" 
piano music plays all the while.)

WC: (convinced all is clear) "Chester?"

CH: "Yes, Pa?"

WC: "Can I speak to you a minute, son?"

CH: "Yes, pa?" (Chester enters the dining area and sits at the 
table.)

WC: (sentimental piano music starts)

"Chester, did you steal them bonds?"

(Chester looks down, ashamed.)

"I know'd ya stole 'em son, but I never would admit it to your 
mother. She thinks you're innocent. You must never tell her any 
different. If she thought you stole 'em, it would break her poor 
old heart."

CH: "Oh, it's so good to be home dad. I'm gonna stay here now with 
you and Ma for all time."

WC: "Chester, have you any of them bonds on ya? Or any of that 
money?"

CH: "No dad, I ain't got any of them bonds on me. And I took that 
tainted money, and threw it away!"

WC: "And you came back - to me and mother."

CH: "Yes, Pa."

WC: "Ah. (WC's voice rises in anger.) To sponge on us the rest of 
your life!"

(Ma and Pa break the pitcher, bowl and other dishes on Chester's 
head.)

"You LUG!"

(Chester falls to the ground. Ma and Pa heave him out the front 
door.)

(Ma and Pa, now at peace, wistfully ponder the outdoors at the 
open front door.)

WC: "And it ain't a fit night out, for man or beast."

(W.C. raises arm to fend off show, he and Ma flinch, but this time 
no snow comes.) 

(Film fades out; melodramatic piano music returns. The end.)



ACKNOWLEDGMENTS 

Special thanks to Mr. Eliot Friedman for clarifying passages in 
the transcription dialogue.

Thanks also to Mr. Jerry Minkoff for providing information about 
the song used in the film (see details below). 

About the Song Fields Sings in The Fatal Glass of Beer. 

Regular reader of this site, Mr. Jerry Minkoff has generously 
provided some very informative and illuminating research about the 
origins of the melodramatic, melancholy song W.C. Fields sings in 
this film, and why Fields sings it in the deadpan way that he 
does. Jerry himself is best able to explain:

"The song W.C. Fields sings in The Fatal Glass of Beer is not an 
original composition, as some might suppose. It was written by 
Charlie Case, a comedian of the 1890s. The text can be found in 
Sigmund Spaeth's Read 'em and Weep: The Songs You Forgot to 
Remember, published by Doubleday in 1927. Spaeth credits F. 
Gregory Hartswick, "of the New York World, one of the original 
cross-word puzzle editors," with this suggestion for performers: 
"The interpreter of a Case song should sing in a very matter-of-
fact voice, with little or no expression, letting the words speak 
for themselves."" 

Mr. Minkoff also provides the original lyric of the song below, 
noting additionally that "Spaeth gives the words to another Case 
song: "There was once a poor young girl."" Jerry says, "It is 
equally absurd, a wicked parody of the heartbreaking ballads 
popular at the time, like "After the Ball is Over."" 

There was once a poor young man who left his country home,

And came to the city to seek employment.

He promised his dear mother that he'd lead the simple life,

And always shun the fatal curse of drink.

He came to the city and accepted employment in a quarry,

And while there he made the acquaintance of some college men.

He little guessed that they were demons, for they wore the best of 
clothes,

But clothes do not always make the gentleman.

One night he went out with his new-found friends to dine,

And they tried to persuade him to take a drink.

They tempted him and tempted him, but he refused and he refused,

Till finally he took a glass of beer.

When he seen what he had done he dashed the liquor to the floor,

And staggered through the door with delirium tremens

. While in the grip of liquor he met a Salvation Army lassie,

And cruelly he broke her tambourine.

All she said was "Heaven bless you!" and placed a mark upon his 
brow

With a kick that she had learned before she was saved.

So kind friends, take my advice and shun the fatal curse of drink,

And don't go around breaking people's tambourines.

 

THE END