Philadelphia Newspapers Inc.
Like it or not, he's stuck with it W.C. Fields is linked forever with Phila.
Now he has a plaque in his native city.
By Mark Davis INQUIRER STAFF WRITER
Let's get the first question answered right off the bat. W.C. does not look like his grandfather, does not sound like him, and -- thank heaven -- does not dress like the old man.

But he does have that last name, Fields. Yes, that W.C. Fields, he of the bulging waistcoat and fireplug nose, hater of kids and small dogs, the comedian who never met a bottle he didn't like. So the comparisons, when you're named W.C. Fields 3d, are inevitable. Yesterday, so were the memories. On a sunny morning, standing under a windblown locust tree outside Strawbridge's at Eighth and Market Streets, city officials, historians, fans and just plain curious folks joined W.C. Field's grandson in recalling the guy who helped make Philadelphia a national laughingstock. The occasion: the official unveiling of a state historical marker honoring William Claude Fields, native son and national treasure. A navy-and-gold sign, atop an eight-foot pole outside the store, reminds passersby that the man who gave us the line "On the whole, I'd rather be in Philadelphia" knew whereof he spoke. He was born here in 1880 and worked at Strawbridge & Clothier as a lad. "He was one of a kind," said W.C. 3d, a 54-year-old lawyer from Barrington, R.I., who accepted a city proclamation commemorating his grandfather. "He stood out from everybody else in the family." William Claude Dukenfield -- that was his original name, shortened when Fields became an entertainer -- was unique, the only one in his family to enter show biz. His early history hardly hinted at what lay ahead. Reared around 10th Street and Allegheny Avenue, young William established what he called the "Oreland Social Club" while still a teen. "It was basically . . . a gang," said his namesake, who was 3 when his grandfather died in 1946 at the age of 66. W.C. went straight for a while, working at Strawbridge as a runner, carrying money and orders from one department to another. Then the store installed pneumatic tubes to make deliveries more quickly and efficiently. Whoosh. Fields was looking for work. So much for respectable employment. He joined the vaudeville circuit as a juggler, a job that eventually led to other acts -- and, at last, to the West Coast, and the big time. The Bank Dick. My Little Chickadee. Never Give A Sucker An Even Break. W.C. Fields fumbled his way to stardom, and the nation laughed. So did his hometown, even as Fields cracked wise about the city whose streets he roamed as a kid. "Last week," he once said, "I went to Philadelphia, but it was closed. But that was long ago, said Celeste Morello, a South Philadelphia historian who led the effort to get the state marker installed on the sidewalk. Fields, she said, is a local boy who made great, and that's worth a sign. "He . . . is famous beyond Pennsylvania," said Morello. Famous and awfully funny, said Ted Wioncek, who knotted a W.C. Fields tie around his neck and came from Gloucester Township, N.J., for yesterday's 15-minute ceremony. He's 43, a structural engineer, a guy who used to keep his girlfriend awake watching the weekend late-late-late shows whenever a Fields movie came on the tube. He's also president of the W.C. Fields Fan Club (300 members and growing), a full-time Fields freak who has nearly all the comedian's 40-plus movies, filmed between 1915 and 1944. "We're very happy with the sign, and we're glad the state of Pennsylvania and the city saw fit to put it there," said Wioncek, who absentmindedly fiddled with a pink lapel button bearing the likeness of his favorite comedian. "Fields made everyone laugh." On the whole, not a bad feat. Even in Philadelphia

Philadelphia Daily News
Clout - Campaign Countdown Historic markers I On the whole, W.C. Fields would rather be in Forest Lawn. Which is why his grandson, William C. Fields III, came all the way from Providence, R.I., yesterday for the dedication of a historic marker honoring the comedy genius outside Strawbridge's at 8th and Market. Before hitting the vaudeville circuit, Fields worked as a cash boy at Strawbridge's, running change from the sales counter to the cashier. "He didn't like it," said grandson Fields. "He wasn't a company type of guy." His career in retail ended when he fell through a skylight. Fields, born William Dukenfield in Philadelphia in 1880, used his hometown as the butt of jokes all his life, but his grandson insists the old curmudgeon really loved the place. The younger Fields says the biggest burden of being W.C.'s grandkid is people ask him to be funny. "I've never been funny in my life. Ask my wife," he told us. His profession? Before moving to Providence, Fields was a Philadelphia lawyer. As grandpop might say, "Godfrey Daniel!"