In the modern age, it might seem that “Fatty” as a professional name is kind of cruel. PBS reports that Arbuckle acquired the name in school, when he was just 8 years old. Author Stuart Oderman notes that by the age of 12, Arbuckle was almost 200 pounds and more than 5 feet tall.

At the height of his fame, Arbuckle weighed close to 300 pounds. Despite the fact that his size was part of his on-screen persona, Arbuckle was self-conscious about his weight. In part this was due to the way his father had treated him throughout his entire childhood, calling him names and fixating on his size. He complained that “fatty” was a childish nickname unsuitable for an adult man, and he resented the way the movie studios always listed him as “Fatty” (or, when he played a woman, “Miss Fatty”). The Vintage News reports that when his fans would call him “Fatty” (or, sometimes, “The Prince of Whales” or “The Balloonatic”), he would object, saying “I’ve got a name, you know.”

Arbuckle’s self-consciousness about his weight made him shy, and he often used alcohol and extravagant gestures, like buying everyone drinks, as cover for his increasing discomfort around his appearance.

By 1921, Roscoe “Fatty” Arbuckle was one of the most successful performers in Hollywood. Smithsonian Magazine reports that he’d just finished a $3 million deal with Paramount Pictures (that would be about $45 million in today’s money) and had just signed a fresh contract for more films. He appeared to be on top of the world.

But he was also tired. Britannica explains that Arbuckle had just completed three films back-to-back. His friend, Fred Fischbach, insisted that Arbuckle needed to get away, so he booked hotel suites in San Francisco and arranged an epic three-day party over Labor Day. Despite Arbuckle suffering burns on his buttocks from accidentally sitting in acid shortly beforehand, the party went ahead.

As reported by BBC News, an actress who attended that party, Virginia Rappe, fell ill and had to be taken to the hospital. She died a few days later, and her friend who had also attended the party, Maude Delmont, accused Arbuckle of raping Rappe. While details of the party are jumbled, Delmont had a history of extortion against men. In fact, All That’s Interesting reports that Delmont even sent telegrams crowing that she was going to bleed Arbuckle for money, and she was never called to testify in court because the prosecution knew her reputation and habit of changing her story wouldn’t serve their case, despite the fact that she was the accusing witness.

If you or anyone you know has been a victim of sexual assault, help is available. Visit theRape, Abuse & Incest National Network websiteor contact RAINN’s National Helpline at 1-800-656-HOPE (4673).

As reported by the Bar Association of San Francisco, Fatty Arbuckle was indicted for manslaughter by a grand jury empaneled by the District Attorney shortly after Virginia Rappe’s death, but then the D.A. ignored the indictment and charged Arbuckle with felony murder. This despite the fact that most of the evidence had yet to come in, including the autopsy, and the fact that the main witness, Maude Delmont, was not exactly a reliable source.

The trial went poorly for the prosecution. Smithsonian Magazine explains that Arbuckle’s lawyers presented evidence that Rappe had died of pre-existing medical conditions, and the state thought better of putting Delmont on the stand, especially when she changed her story several times and telegrams were discovered in which she pretty clearly planned to blackmail Arbuckle. The jury couldn’t agree on a verdict, voting 10-2 for acquittal.

The prosecution refused to give up, and forced a second trial. Again, the jury couldn’t come to a unanimous decision, voting 9-3 to convict. So a third trial was necessary. This time, Arbuckle and his defense team attacked Rappe’s character, got several witnesses to admit they’d been threatened by the prosecution, and Arbuckle once again took the stand to argue his case. As reported by BBC News, Arbuckle was acquitted. Not only was he found not guilty, but the jury took just five minutes to reach that verdict, much of which was spent on writing an unprecedented apology note to Arbuckle.

Roscoe Arbuckle was never someone who lived a healthy lifestyle. As reported by the Spokesman-Review, Arbuckle was briefly a full-fledged heroin addict and very likely a lifelong alcoholic.

After being charged with rape and manslaughter and watching his career and significant fortune vanish over the course of three expensive trials — despite being acquitted of the crimes he was accused of — Arbuckle understandably struggled. Although he worked towards a comeback for the rest of his life, he also fell into heavy drinking. Author Kieron Connolly reports that Arbuckle’s first wife, Minta Durfee, commented that “Roscoe only seemed to find solace and comfort in a bottle” in those later years.

The booze affected his work. He began working as a director under a pseudonym, William Goodrich, but didn’t exactly bring a lot of energy to the work. According to actress Louise Brooks, who worked with him on one film, Arbuckle “made no attempt to direct this picture. He sat in his chair like a man dead. He had been very nice and sweetly dead ever since the scandal that ruined his career.”

No matter what he was accused of, the fact that someone as famous as Fatty Arbuckle is so obscure and largely forgotten today might seem strange. After all, other stars of his caliber, like Charlie Chaplin (whom he mentored) and Buster Keaton (whom he discovered) are still well known today.

Things become clearer when the extent of Arbuckle’s cancellation is explored. As reported by the Cut, when Arbuckle was accused of rape and manslaughter in 1921, it was an enormous scandal. Movie theaters across the country boycotted his films, and the movie studios quickly announced that Arbuckle would be banned from working on films. And, as reported by Hennes Communications, some of the negatives of Arbuckle’s films were burned entirely.

DVD Talk explains that this reaction made Arbuckle’s existing films basically worthless — if you couldn’t show them anywhere, why bother preserving them? Arbuckle was broke after surviving three expensive trials, so he couldn’t pay to preserve his films himself. Author Richard Ward reports that only a small number of Arbuckle’s films survive today. Although some of his films did make their way back into theaters after the trials ended, and Arbuckle began acting again in the 1930s shortly before his death, the damage was already done.