Movie Confidential. Andrew Schanie
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