Our Norman Fell expose concludes at last with this installment. We've seen the slow but steady rise of Feller from the depths of early television work to his apex of filmmaking in the role of Stanley in 1975's blockbuster hit, Cleopatra Jones and the City of Gold, the role for which he recieved an Oscar nomination. We've seen him take over sitcom television and redefine comedic television acting as the sardonic Stanley Roper on the smash-hit TV series Three's Company! And we've seen him combat the demons which plagued his every success and failure, the twin monkeys of alcohol abuse and cocaine addiction. Now we wrap up our analysis of a legendary life in showbiz with an in-depth look at Fell's historic Hollywood feud with fellow comedic actor Don Knotts, an examination of Feller's romantic successes and failures, and the latest on what Fell has been doing in the years following Three's Company!

THE FIVE-YEARS WAR

Ask anyone who has ever been anyone in that magical Anytown known as Hollywood about the "Five Years' War," and they'll know exactly what you're talking about. Chances are they'll have some personal story about how they or a friend of a friend saw Fell eating at a diner and how he was suddenly attacked by Knotts bearing a hot bowl of clam chowder. They'll tell of Knotts chucking the hot clam chowder onto the bare head of Fell, and of Fell screaming in agony and stabbing Knots in the hand with a spoon. They'll either say that, or something else. The Fell/Knotts feud became the stuff of modern Hollywood legend. It permeated every corner of Tinseltown, and turned huge factions of the showbiz elite against one other. Truly it was, as noted raunchy comic Andrew Dice Clay commented in the six-part Ken Burns documentary The Fell of His Years, "a really f**king big deal, a**hole."

The feud essentially began the moment that Fell was chosen over Knotts for the original role of Stanley Roper on Three's Company! As the story goes, the two arrived at the Paramount Television lot at the same time to meet with the producers of the soon-to-be-hit TV show, one to handily snag the part, and the other to suffer bitter rejection. Details are sketchy as to what exactly happened after the announcement was made. Some tell of Knotts finding out by listening through the door of the producer's office and kicking the door down, charging toward Feller with the fury of a twenty-pound cheetah. Others tell of Fell taunting Knotts in his moment of great failure with calls of "I'm Mr. Roper, butt-butt" and "Suck my Roper, Knotts." At any rate, the feud clearly began at this point, and while the origins may be shrouded in mystery, its later stages are as well-known in the land of sin as is the script structure for Die Hard knockoffs.

There was the 1979 Emmy fiasco, where Fell streaked the stage while Knotts went up to accept his Best Comedic Actor Emmy for his work as "Mr. Ferley" on Three's Company! After Fell had humiliated Knotts with his jangling genitals, Knotts stopped his speech and his head began to shake in the Ferley-esque manner that had replaced the "Fell take" as a substandard but wildly popular comedic acting technique on sitcom TV. Knotts ran from the stage and the television cameras actually captured him as he tackled the cackling Fell to the ground and began to claw at his bare testicles.

There was the bitter series of letters published in the Hollywood trade paper Variety, in which Fell and Knotts let loose upon one another in print. They somehow managed to present themselves with enough warmth that the missives didn't appear too cruel, but there is enough bitter rage subtextually in the letters to stun a bull. One-liners such as "Norm, you couldn't act your way out of a wet paper bag, and it's wet with my piss" and "I associate the words 'Don Knotts' with the words 'dick' and 'head'" have become classic Hollywood inside jokes that are referenced to this day.

As Tony Tranchita writes in his introduction to the collection of the Fell/Knotts letters he edited, War of Words, "Watching two Hollywood legends battle in print, neither claiming hate or anger but both being obvious to anyone 'in the know,' was that rarest of Tinseltown happenings: an event that both lived up to its billing and surpassed expectations. For six months in 1982, all anyone talked about were the Fell/Knotts letters. They sold enough Variety newspapers based on their letters alone that they deserve a cut of the profits."

And there was the missing tape of a 1980 episode of Three's Company's Friends--The Ropers! stolen out from under the noses of Paramount Television employees by a band of brigands working for Knotts. The tape was later recovered, drenched in urine and sitting at the bottom of the Grand Canyon, and the episode never aired.

Fell and Knotts publicly reconciled at the 1989 Emmy Awards ceremony, but the tales of their bitter feud are still told to young neophytes hoping to make it big in the glitter world of Tinseltown. Their dirty, decades-long battle offers a constant reminder to new starlets and the future comic geniuses of television: it never hurts to be nice in Hollywood, and always wear a hat while eating dinner.

LOVE, FELLER STYLE

No examination of Norman Fell's epic career in film and television would be complete without a discussion of Feller's skillful way with the ladies. As well-known as he's become for his "Fell Take" and his raging substance abuse problems, he's also known as one of the industry's most virile womanizers, "a poor man's Frank Sinatra," as gossip columnist Army Archerd would come to describe him in his newspaper writings.

We've already examined Feller's torrid on-set affair with Joyce DeWitt, his co-star on the smash hit series Three's Company! We've also mentioned the heartbreak Fell suffered at the hands of Maude maven Bea Arthur during the early seventies. Aside from those lengthy relationships, Fell's name has also appeared in the gossip columns alongside most of Hollywood's finest pieces of ass, ranging from the octogenarian Gloria Stewart to the adorable Olsen twins, from the curvaceous Pamela Anderson to the pleasantly plump Kathy Bates.

"He was a man of many appetites, but perhaps his greatest was for poon," comments Three's Company's Friends--The Ropers co-star Jeffrey Tambor, who observed Fell in the days following his break-up with DeWitt, one of his most promiscuous periods. "It was like he had some kind of sixth sense; he could smell vagina. When a woman would walk on the set, even if it were during a taping, he'd always find a way to send a lusty glance or wink her way. And more often than not, she'd always find her way into his trailer for what he called 'the big bang.' Every Friday after the taping, he'd head home with some starstruck young thing from the audience."

"The guy had more paternity suits than Wilt Chamberlain," reveals Hinky Slowenberg, Fell's lawyer for most of his career and a close confidant. "He knew how to bag the babes, but unfortunately, he often emptied his own bag in places where he shouldn't have. If I had every dime I paid out to some two-bit wench who claimed to have a Norman Jr., I'd be a wealthy man."

It's hard to pick just one story that typifies Fell's reputation for sexual conquest. But one recently-revealed anecdote, from the manuscript of the unpublished Kitty Kelley bio Feller, sums up the animal magnetism and virtuouso romancing for which Fell became legendary. As Kelley writes:

"Feller was invited to visit the set of the hit hour-long adventure series Charlie's Angels by close friend and baccarat partner David Doyle, and the notorious womanizer leapt at the chance. He arrived on the set wearing a mink coat, a flashy fedora and dragging on one of his 'pot cigars,' specially manufactured by Tommy Chong for Tinseltown's elite on a strict request- only basis. Though the crew were in the middle of filming a take, the three nubile young stars of Angels sped over to Fell's side as soon as the shot was 'in the can.'

"'I've never seen anything like it,' commented Doyle. 'They were like flies to his pile of lusty shit. Amazing.'

"According to legend, Fell huddled the three girls together in a circle while the crew and fellow castmembers watched with fascination. An expectant buzz began to encircle the set. Then with nary a word, the three linked arms and followed Fell to his car, speeding off at ten a.m. on the first day of filming for an episode and not returning until three days later. When they returned to attempt to finish the episode--already behind schedule--all three complained of acute exhaustion from what Farrah Fawcett called 'one of the most intense love-making experiences of my life.'

"That episode, guest-starring football hero O.J. Simpson and perpetual game show guest Paul Lynde, was shelved and never completed."

THE LATER YEARS

After finishing his run on The Ropers, Fell saw the error of his ways and checked into an extensive rehab program, thanks to the loving attention provided by his new mentor, Jim Bakker. Perhaps inevitably, Fell "found God" through Bakker and became a vocal celeb supporter of the televangelist's PTL ministry. Fell's work with Bakker would return to haunt him by the decade's close, as a notorious shot of the aging actor taking a plunge down the water slide at one of Bakker's amusement parks became synonymous with the excess and decay of PTL during television coverage of Bakker's conviction and imprisonment. Though Fell quickly attempted to disassociate himself from the footage ("Everyone enjoys waterslides. It doesn't mean I'm in with sleaze," backpedaled Fell in a 1991 interview), he remained close friends with Jim's wife Tammy Faye until his death, encouraging her to pursue her short-lived Jim & Tammy Faye talk show with Jim J. Bullock.

Feller also continued his acting career right up until the final days of his life. His most notable post-Company role was that of a wizened showbiz manager in the Bette Midler starring vehicle For The Boys. Though it didn't earn Fell the late-career Oscar win that so many of today's aging actors have become accustomed to, he did receive strong critical notices for the role--and of course, bedded Bette Midler during the shoot in a mildly-publicized on-set romance.

As the nineties dawned, Fell remained more and more an introvert, slowly removing himself from the public embrace which had warmly enveloped him for most of his life. By his final days, he was content to simply enjoy the fruits of his hard labor and spend his days relaxing in his Santa Monica beachhouse.

"I've lived a good life," he told Barbara Walters in a 1995 pre-Oscars interview segment. "Television, film, the stage...I've shared the company of beautiful women and most of them don't hate me today. I've worked like I didn't need the money and loved like I'd never been hurt. I think that's important."

In his characteristically humble style, Fell also downplayed the influence his "Fell take" and Three's Company has had on the industry and the culture. "I don't know if I have a legacy, to be honest," he told Walters, immediately launching into some classic Fell schtick. "If I do have one, I'd like to be known as a guy who's hung like a horse. None of this 'talented' bullcock."

On the interview tape, Fell then met the camera's cold, hard electronic stare. It would be the final televised "Fell take" of his career, and his life.

GOODBYE, FELLER

Now he is gone, the man born on a vaudeville stage, raised in the wilds of television's golden age and catapaulted to international stardom by his inimitable sardonic style. Though he may have insisted otherwise, Norman Fell does leave behind many legacies: his work on Three's Company! and the spinoff he anchored, an eternal blueprint for the comedic geniuses of the twenty-first century; a message of renewal and forgiveness in the resolution of his bitter feud with Don Knotts; and of course the sublime brilliance of the "Fell take."

It is in that final legacy that we, the unwashed and humbled outsiders who take in the bright glare of Hollywood but may never contribute to its sheen, can find inspiration in Fell's life. He faced that camera with courage, boldness and a confidence that even today is still staggering to behold. In doing so, he made himself a star and reinvented the "wheel" of television comedy. If we can capture even a fraction of that same courage in our own daily lives, then we too may someday hope to reach the heavens with as much grace and sardonic wit as Feller. From John Ritter's bittersweet eulogy at Feller's memorial service:

"He took us by storm, he warmly guided us into his comedy and he humbled us with his courageous, beautiful heart. For when Feller looked into that camera on Three's Company after a punchline, he wasn't just looking at a camera. He was looking at us all, and we're all the better for his sly, beguiling gaze."