Though the following profile of Roscoe Arbuckle’s wife, Minta Durfee, reads like a “puff piece,” it was “propaganda” published just prior to the first of his trials, arranged by his lawyers and written by Alma Reed, a journalist whose career later took her to Mexico where she would champion the works of several artists including José Clemente Orozco.

Durfee’s role in the trial was staged, as historian Joan Myers said so poignantly a decade ago, but some of the thoughts Minta shared in this interview sound genuine, for instance when she mentioned that her husband was incapable of attempted rape because, in her mind, he was impotent. An astute reader might have concluded that Arbuckle had simply become bored with her as his popularity skyrocketed. Less obvious to the reader would have been why Minta stood by her estranged husband. The most significant reason is that the case against Arbuckle posed a mortal threat to the handsome stipend she received from him, so she swallowed any embarrassment and went to work shoring up his image as a good-natured (and harmless) husband. She was also enjoying the attention—pleased to be back in the limelight after years of being  forgotten by the movie-going public.

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Arbuckle Happy with His Wife; Awaits Trial

By Alma Reed

“I guess I’m the right girl for him, after all!”

There was a note of good-natured significance in her voice, and an expression of kindly, maternal understanding in her brown eyes, when Minta Durfee Arbuckle ventured this statement yesterday afternoon as she sat in evident domestic felicity beside her husband in their apartments at the Plaza Hotel.

And something of the old smile that won Roscoe Arbuckle world-wide fame in the silent drama flickered across his face as he held her hand and said tersely: “I’ve found that out, all right!”

This mutual admission of the success of their reconciliation after a month’s trial cannot fail to impress the most disinterested observer as the truth. For, in spite of the sinister possibilities that loom before him, in spite of the hideous accusation that attaches to his name, the corpulent screen star is frankly happy in the devotion of his pretty, talented wife.

Sincerity of Purpose

And Mrs. Arbuckle, with all the tact that a clever woman has at her command in an emergency which endangers the vital interests of her life, is resuming her duties, after five years of separation, with a sincerity of purpose and a genuine pride in her ability to meet the difficult situation.

Throughout the public frenzy surrounding her husband’s preliminary hearing there were many who, a bit reluctantly, perhaps, admired the splendid poise of Minta Durfee Arbuckle. Her dignified demeanor was a matter of popular comment at every session of the court. The same dignity, common sense and real charm of personality are standing her in good stead  now, as with rare generalship she directs the uncertain affairs of the Arbuckle household.

It was between almost continuous demands made upon her time by phone messages and the greeting of visitors that Mrs. Arbuckle explained the past and expressed her hope for the future.

Arbuckle, seated in a small group of old friends, reminisced over various steps of his career. But he followed her every word, and throwing off the “incommunicado” mask imposed upon him by his attorneys since his arrest, made free and frequent comments, as she said:

I came here because I know Roscoe. Before our separation I was with him constantly for nine years. We worked in the same shows. We never had a meal apart. We were together practically every minute of that time. I know that he is incapable of doing the terrible thing that they have charged him with. I know that a great injustice is being done him, and that he is being placed in a false light before the public.

Grew Up Together

When we were married, I was only 17 and he was scarcely 21. We practically grew up together. Our one difference was just as much my fault as it was his. I had a point of view that insisted upon quiet manners and certain amount of conventionality. I had been raised that way, and the thing annoyed me was that Roscoe always acted like a big boy. When we were in the company of friends Roscoe preferred to go off and sing tenor in a quartet with the boys instead of politely remaining with the ladies. Perhaps he would take a notion to beat the drums, or do something else as foolish, for all the world like an overgrown baby. He was very bashful and I liked the social observances of life. Sometimes when we were in a restaurant he would say, “I’ll put your coat on outside. If I do it here the waiters will think I’m in love with you!” Now, of course, all that seems very silly now, and small reason why tow people who really were in love should separate. But I was much younger then and allowed the trifles of life to assume to much importance.

But Arbuckle refused to let his wife take the blame for their marital difficulties. Rushing gallantly to her defense, he declared:

It was my fault. I should have had more sense and should have realized my position. I never seemed to grow up, and I believed that I could always go on acting natural even after I became a public character. A man must finish with the “kid stuff” sometime, and I was wrong in wanting to sing in public and beat the drums, and do every sort of crazy thing that humiliated my wife. I suppose I never took myself seriously enough, and I didn’t seem changed inside, somehow, from the days when I was just a big, fat “cut-up” youngster in vaudeville.

Good Wife Best

Now I realize that the best thing is the world a man can have is a good wife—one who is proper and dignified and wants you to succeed and have the world think the best of you. A man may see the funny side when other women act boisterously or dress freakishly. But it’s a different story when his own wife does it. And the thing that a man should be most grateful for is having a wife whom he can respect and whom the world must respect.

That Mrs. Arbuckle is preeminently such a wife is the consensus of opinion among all those who have met her. Her husband’s opinion of her is borne out of her expression of her aims and interests. Of her personal tastes and ideals, she said:

I have always had one ambition, that is to improve my mind. My father always impressed my sister and myself with the truth that education is the best substitute for youth. “When you being to lose your looks,” he would say to us, “you can still be very charming women if you have used your time and your talents properly.” I have two hobbies—reading, and outdoor exercise. I love good books as I love few things in life. I study continuously, and the more I study the greater my desire to learn. My reading is of a great help to us now, when we stay indoors, as we do day after day, waiting for the trial. Roscoe is always begging me to tell him some of the stories I have read, and it gives me great pleasure to be able to interest him with all sorts of strange tales. The time I spent in our home in Los Angeles was wonderful, in spite of all the trouble. I love the garden. It is one of the most beautiful I have ever seen, all carried out in Japanese style. It is like a dream come true, for nine years ago, when Roscoe and I went to the Orient with the Ferris Hartman Company, we visited the tea houses and lovely gardens of Tokio. We promised ourselves then that when we could afford it we would have a Japanese garden all of our very own.

But, while that’s all very beautiful, the best thing is, of course, that we are together again, even if it required some terrible trouble to bring about. Perhaps we’ll have to start life all over again in a little stucco bungalow. I’ll be perfectly contented there, but I mean to have a little red lacquered bridge and an old stone lantern and a tiny lily pond somewhere in the back yard.

During the preliminary hearing, I once heard a man who was a baseball fan say about Mrs. Arbuckle:

You can’t help admiring that little woman for the plucky way she is keeping her foot on base!

And regardless of the issue of the legal proceedings which will determine the future status of Roscoe Arbuckle, it must be generally conceded that his wife is very firmly keeping her foot on base, with credit to herself and helpfulness to the man whose name she bears.

Arbuckle prepares to spin a jazz record while Minta reads him a story?

—San Francisco Bulletin, October 25, 1921