Drew down for supper.
"Certainly; with pleasure," said Frohman.
That night after the play Miller picked Drew up at Daly's and took him
to the Hoffman House. Knowing the way to the Frohman rooms, he started
for them unannounced, when he was stopped by a bell-boy, who said, "Mr.
Frohman is expecting you in here," opening the door and ushering the
guests into a magnificent private suite that Frohman had engaged for the
occasion. It was the first step in the campaign for Drew.
[Illustration: _JOHN DREW_]
Although Frohman was eager to secure Drew, he made no effort to lure
the actor away from what he believed was a very satisfactory connection.
As the friendship between the men grew, however, he discovered that Drew
was becoming dissatisfied with his arrangement at Daly's. Up to that
time "The Big Four" shared in the profits of the theater. Daly canceled
this arrangement, and Drew suddenly realized that what seemed to be a
most attractive alliance really held out no future for him.
Drew's dissatisfaction was heightened by his realization that Augustin
Daly's greatest work and achievements were behind him. The famous old
manager was undergoing that cycle of experience which comes to all of
his kind when the flood-tide of their success begins to ebb.
Drew was speculating about his future when Frohman heard of his state of
mind. He now felt that he would not be violating the ethics of the
profession in making overtures looking to an alliance. He did not make a
direct offer, but sent a mutual friend, Frank Bennett, once a member of
the Daly company, who was then conducting the Arlington Hotel in
Washington. Through him Frohman made a proposition to Drew to become a
star. The actor accepted the offer, and a three-year contract was
signed.
The capture of John Drew by Charles Frohman was more than a mere
business stroke. Frohman never forgot that the great Daly had succeeded
in ousting him from his first booking-offices in the Daly Theater
Building. He found not a little humor in pre-empting the services of the
Daly leading man as a sort of reciprocal stroke.
When Drew told Daly that he had signed a contract with Frohman the then
dictator of the American stage could scarcely find words to express his
astonishment. He assured Drew that he was making the mistake of his
life, because he regarded Frohman as an unlicensed interloper. Yet this
"interloper," from the moment of the Drew contract, began a new career
of brilliant and artistic development.
Frohman's starring arrangement with Drew created a sensation, both among
the public and in the profession. It broke up "The Big Four," for Drew
left a gap at Daly's that could not be filled.
There was also a widespread feeling that while Drew had succeeded in a
congenial environment, and with an actress (Miss Rehan) who was
admirably suited to him, he might not duplicate this success amid new
scenes. Hence arose much speculation about his leading woman. A dozen
names were bruited about.
Charles Frohman remained silent. He was keenly sensitive to the
sensation he was creating, and was biding his time to launch another. It
came when he announced Maude Adams as John Drew's leading woman. He had
watched her development with eager and interested eye. She had made good
wherever he had placed her. Now he gave her what was up to this time her
biggest chance. The moment her name became bracketed with Drew's there
was a feeling of satisfaction over the choice. How wise Charles Frohman
was in the whole Drew venture was about to be abundantly proved.
* * *
Charles Frohman not only made John Drew a star, but the nucleus of a
whole system. It was a time of rebirth for the whole American stage.
Nearly all the old stars were gone or were passing from view. Forrest,
McCullough, Cushman, Janauschek were gone; Modjeska's power was waning;
Clara Morris was soon to leave the stage world; Lawrence Barrett and
W.J. Florence were dead; Edwin Booth had retired.
Frohman realized that with the passing of these stars there also passed
the system that had created them. He knew that the public--the new
generation--wanted younger people, popular names--somebody to talk
about. He realized further that the public adored personality and that
the strongest prop that a play could get was a fascinating and magnetic
human being, whether male or female. The old stars had made
themselves--risen from the ranks after years of service. Frohman saw the
opportunity to accelerate this advance by providing swift and
spectacular recognition. The new stars that were now to blossom into
life under him owed their being to the initiative and the vision of some
one else. Thus he became the first of the star-makers.
Charles was now all excitement. He had the making of his first big star,
and he proceeded to launch him in truly magnificent fashion.
A play was needed that would bring out all those qualities that had made
Drew shine in the drawing-room drama. The very play itself was destined
to mark an epoch in the life of a man in the theater. Through Elizabeth
Marbury, who had just launched herself as play-broker in a little office
on Twenty-fourth Street, around the corner from Charles Frohman's, his
attention was called to a French farcical comedy called "The Masked
Ball," by Alexandre Bisson and Albert Carre. Frohman liked the story and
wanted it adapted for American production. It was the beginning of his
long patronage of French plays.
"I know a brilliant young man who could do this job for you very well,"
said Miss Marbury.
"What's his name?" asked Frohman.
"Clyde Fitch, and I believe he is going to have a great career," was the
answer of his sponsor.
Fitch was given the commission. He did a most successful piece of
adaptation, and in this Way began the long and close relationship
between the author of "Beau Brummel" (his first play) and the man who,
more than any other, did so much to advance his career.
For Drew's debut under his management Charles spared no expense. In
addition to Maude Adams, the company included Harry Harwood (who was
then coming into his own as a forceful and versatile character actor),
C. Leslie Allen, Mrs. Annie Adams, and Frank E. Lamb.
With his usual desire to do everything in a splendid way, Frohman
arranged for Drew's debut at Palmer's Theater, the old Lester Wallack
playhouse which was now under the management of A. M. Palmer, then one
of the shining figures in the American drama, and located opposite
Drew's former scenes of activity. Thus Drew's first stellar appearance
was on a stage rich with tradition.
"The Masked Ball" opened October 3, 1892, in the presence of a
representative audience. It was an instantaneous success. Drew played
with brilliancy and distinction, and Frohman's confidence in him was
amply justified.
[Illustration: _CLYDE FITCH_]
[Illustration: _HENRY ARTHUR JONES_]
The performance, however, had a human interest apart from the star.
Maude Adams, for the first time in her career, had a real Broadway
opportunity, and she made the most of it in such a fashion as to
convince Frohman and every one else that before many years were past
she, too, would have her name up in electric lights. She played the part
of _Zuzanne Blondet_, a more or less frivolous person, and it was in
distinct contrast with the character that she had just abandoned, that
of _Nell_, the consumptive factory-girl in "The Lost Paradise."
[Illustration: A CHARACTERISTIC FROHMAN BLUE PENCIL SKETCH]
As _Zuzanne_ in "The Masked Ball," Miss Adams went to a ball and
assumed tipsiness in order to influence her dissipated husband and
achieve his ultimate reformation. The way she prepared for this part was
characteristic of the woman. She wore a hat with a long feather, and she
determined to make it a "tipsy feather." This feature became one of the
comedy hits of the play, but in order to achieve it she worked for days
and days to bring about the desired effect. The result of all this
painstaking preparation was a brilliant performance. When the curtain
went down on that memorable night at Palmer's Theater the general
impression was:
"Maude Adams will be the next Frohman star."
The morning after the opening Frohman went to John Drew and said: "Well,
John, you don't need me any more now. You're made."
"No, Charles; I shall need you always," was the reply.
Out of this engagement came the long and intimate friendship between
Drew and Frohman. The first contract, signed and sealed on that
precarious day when Frohman was seeing the vision of the modern star
system, was the last formal bond between them. Though their negotiations
involved hundreds of thousands of dollars in the years that passed,
there was never another scrap of paper between them.
Seldom in the history of the American theater has another event been so
productive of far-reaching consequence as "The Masked Ball." It brought
Clyde Fitch into contact with the man who was to be his real sponsor; it
made John Drew a star; it carried Maude Adams to the frontiers of the
stellar realm; it gave Charles Frohman a whole new and distinguished
place in the theater.
Frohman was quick to follow up this success. With Drew he had made his
first real bid for what was known in those days as "the carriage
trade"--that is, the patronage of the socially elect. He hastened to
clinch this with another stunning production at Palmer's. It was Bronson
Howard's play, "Aristocracy."
The play, produced on November 14, 1893, was done in Frohman's usual
lavish way. The company included not less than half a dozen people who
were then making their way toward stardom--Wilton Lackaye, Viola Allen,
Blanche Walsh, William Faversham, Frederick Bond, Bruce McRae, Paul
Arthur, W. H. Thompson, J. W. Piggott. "Aristocracy" was Bronson
Howard's reversion to the serenity of the society drama after the
spectacle of war. The first night's audience was fashionable. The
distinction of the cast lent much to the success of the occasion.
* * *
When John Drew called on Charles Frohman for the first time at his
offices at 1127 Broadway, his way was impeded by a bright-eyed, alert
young office-boy who bore the unromantic name of Peter Daly. He
incarnated every ill to which his occupation seems to be heir. Without
troubling himself to find out if Mr. Frohman was in, he immediately
said, after the grand fashion of theatrical office-boys:
"Mr. Frohman is out and I don't know when he will return."
"But I have an engagement with Mr. Frohman," said Drew.
"You will have to wait," said the boy.
Drew cooled his heels outside while Frohman waited impatiently inside
for him. When he emerged at lunchtime he was surprised to find his man
about to depart.
Daly was immediately discharged by Julius Cahn, who was office manager,
but was promptly reinstated the next day by Frohman, who had been
greatly impressed with the boy's quick wit and intelligence.
This office-boy, it is interesting to relate, became Arnold Daly, the
actor. No experience of his life was perhaps more amusing or picturesque
than the crowded year when he manned the outside door of Charles
Frohman's office. Instead of attending to business, he spent most of his
time writing burlesques on contemporary plays, which he solemnly
submitted to Harry Rockwood, the bookkeeper.
During these days occurred a now famous episode. Young Daly was
luxuriously reclining in the most comfortable chair in the
reception-room one day when Louise Closser Hale, the actress, entered
and asked to see Charles Frohman.
"He is out," said Daly.
"May I wait for him?" asked the visitor.
"Yes," answered Daly, and the woman sat down.
After three hours had passed she asked Daly, "Where is Mr. Frohman?"
"He's in London," was the reply.
Afterward Daly became "dresser" for John Drew, the virus of the theater
got into his system, and before long he was an actor.
Thus even Charles Frohman's office-boys became stars.
* * *
Epochal as had been 1892, witnessing the first big Frohman star and a
great artistic expansion, the new year that now dawned realized another
and still greater dream of Charles Frohman, for it brought the
dedication of his own New York theater at last, the famous Empire.
Ever since he had been launched in the metropolitan theatrical
whirlpool, Frohman wanted a New York theater. As a boy he had witnessed
the glories of the Union Square Theater under Palmer; as a road manager
he had a part in the success of the Madison Square Theater activities;
in his early managerial days he had been associated with the Lester
Wallack organization; he had watched the later triumphs of the Lyceum
Theater Company at home and on the road. Quite naturally he came to the
conviction that he was ready to operate and control a big theater of his
own.
The way toward its consummation was this:
One day toward the end of the 'eighties, William Harris came to New York
to see Frohman about the booking of some attractions. He said:
"Charley, I want a theater in New York, and I know that you want one.
Let's combine."
"All right," said Frohman. "You can get the Union Square. The lease is
on the market."
"Very well," said Harris.
On the way down-stairs he met Al Hayman, who asked him where he was
going.
"I am going over to lease the Union Square Theater," he replied.
"That's foolish," said Hayman. "Everything theatrical is going up-town."
"Well," answered Harris, "C. F. wants a theater, and I am determined
that he shall have it, so I am going over to get the Union Square."
"If you and Frohman want a theater that badly, I will build one for
you," he responded.
"Where?" asked Harris.
"I've got some lots at Fortieth and Broadway, and it's a good site, even
if it is away up-town."
They went back to Frohman's office, and here was hatched the plan for
the Empire Theater.
"I can't go ahead on this matter without Rich," said Harris.
"All right," said Frohman. "Wire Rich."
Rich came down next day, and the final details were concluded for the
building of the Empire. Frank Sanger came in as a partner; thus the
builders were Al Hayman, Frank Sanger, and William Harris. Without the
formality of a contract they turned it over to Charles Frohman with the
injunction that he could do with it as he pleased.
Frohman was in his element. He could now embark on another one of the
favorite dream-enterprises.
He was like a child during the building of the theater. Every moment
that he could spare from his desk he would walk up the street and watch
the demolition of the old houses that were to make way for this
structure. Often he would get Belasco and take him up the street to note
the progress. One night as they stood before the skeleton of the theater
that stood gaunt and gray in the gloom Charles said to his friend:
"David, just think; the great dream is coming true, and yet it's only a
few years since we sat at 'Beefsteak John's' with only forty-two cents
between us."
Naturally, Frohman turned to Belasco for the play to open the Empire.
His old friend was then at work on "The Heart of Maryland" for Mrs.
Leslie Carter. He explained the situation to Frohman. As soon as Mrs.
Carter heard of it she went to Frohman and told him that she would
waive her appearance and that Belasco must go ahead on the Empire play,
which he did.
Just what kind of play to produce was the problem. Frohman still clung
to the mascot of war. The blue coat and brass buttons had turned the
tide for him with "Shenandoah," and he was superstitious in wanting
another stirring and martial piece. Belasco had become interested in
Indians, but he also wanted to introduce the evening-clothes feature.
Hence came the inspiration of a ball at an army post in the far West
during the Indian-fighting days. This episode proved to be the big
dramatic situation of the new piece.
Then came the night when Belasco read the play to Frohman, who walked up
and down the floor. When the author finished, Frohman rushed up to him
with a brilliant smile on his face and said:
"David, you've done the whole business! You've got pepper and salt,
soup, entree, roast, salad, dessert, coffee; it's a real play, and I
know it will be a success."
Having finished the work, which Belasco wrote in collaboration with
Franklin Fyles, then dramatic editor of the New York _Sun_, they needed
a striking name. So they sent the manuscript to Daniel, down at the
Lyceum, for Charles always declared he had been happy in the selection
of play titles. Back came the manuscript with his approval of the work,
and with the title "The Girl I Left Behind Me." This they eagerly
adopted.
Long before "The Girl I Left Behind Me" manuscript was ready to leave
Belasco's hands, Frohman was assembling his company. Instead of having a
star, he decided to have an all-round stock company. The success of this
kind of institution had been amply proved at Daly's, Wallack's, the
Madison Square, and the Lyceum. Hence the Charles Frohman Stock Company,
which had scored so heavily with "Men and Women" and "The Lost Paradise"
at Proctor's Twenty-third Street Theater, now became the famous Empire
Theater Stock Company and incidentally the greatest of all star
factories. William Morris was retained as the first leading man, and the
company included Orrin Johnson, Cyril Scott, W. H. Thompson, Theodore
Roberts, Sydney Armstrong, Odette Tyler, and Edna Wallace. The child in
the play was a precocious youngster called "Wally" Eddinger, who is the
familiar Wallace Eddinger of the present-day stage.
The rehearsals for "The Girl I Left Behind Me" were held in the Standard
Theater, which Frohman had already booked for productions, and were
supervised by Belasco. Frohman, however, was always on hand, and his
suggestions were invaluable.
"The Girl I Left Behind Me" was tried out for a week at Washington. The
company arrived there on Sunday afternoon, but was unable to get the
stage until midnight because Robert G. Ingersoll was delivering a
lecture there. At the outset of this rehearsal Belasco became ill and
had to retire to his bed, and Frohman took up the direction of this
final rehearsal and worked with the company until long after dawn.
The week in Washington rounded out the play thoroughly, and the company
returned to New York on the morning of January 25, 1893. Now came a
characteristic example of Frohman's resource. At noon it was discovered
that the new electric-light installation was not yet complete. Added to
this was the disconcerting fact that the paint on the chairs was
scarcely dry. Sanger, Harris, and Rich urged Frohman to postpone the
opening. "It will be useless to open under these conditions," they said.
"The Empire must open to-night," said Frohman, "if we have to open it by
candle-light."
In saying this Charles Frohman emphasized what was one of his iron-clad
rules, for he never postponed an announced opening.
That January night was a memorable one in the life of Frohman. He sat on
a low chair in the wings, and alongside of him sat Belasco. His face
beamed, yet he was very nervous, as he always was on openings. At the
end of the third act, when the audience made insistent calls for
speeches, Belasco tried to drag Frohman out, but he would not go. "You
go, David," he said. And Belasco went out and made a speech.
"The Girl I Left Behind Me" was a complete success, and played two
hundred and eighty-eight consecutive performances.
The opening of the Empire Theater strengthened Charles Frohman's
position immensely. More than this, it established a whole new
theatrical district in New York. When it was opened there was only one
up-town theater, the Broadway. Within a few years other playhouses
followed the example of the Empire, and camped in its environs. Thus
again Charles Frohman was a pioneer.
The Empire Theater now became the nerve-center of the Charles Frohman
interests. He established his offices on the third floor, and there they
remained until his death. He practically occupied the whole building,
for his booking interests, which had now grown to great proportions, and
which were in charge of Julius Cahn, occupied a whole suite of offices.
He now had his own New York theater, a star of the first magnitude, and
a stock company with a national reputation.
When the Empire Stock Company began its second season in the August of
1893, in R. C. Carton's play, "Liberty Hall," Charles Frohman was able
to keep the promise he had made to Henry Miller back in the 'eighties in
San Francisco. That handsome and dashing young actor now succeeded
William Morris as leading man of the stock company, Viola Allen became
leading woman, and May Robson also joined the company. "Liberty Hall"
ran until the end of October, when David Belasco's play, "The Younger
Son," was put on. This added William Faversham to the ranks, and thus
another star possibility came under the sway of the Star-Maker.
The Empire became the apple of Charles Frohman's eye, and remained so
until his death. No star and no play was too good for it. On it he
lavished wealth and genuine affection. To appear with the Empire Stock
Company was to be decorated with the Order of Theatrical Merit. To it in
turn came Robert Edison, Ethel Barrymore, Elita Proctor Otis, Jameson
Lee Finney, Elsie De Wolfe, W. J. Ferguson, Ferdinand Gottschalk, J. E.
Dodson, Margaret Anglin, J. Henry Benrimo, Ida Conquest, and Arthur
Byron.
The Empire Stock Company became an accredited institution. A new play by
it was a distinct event, its annual tour to the larger cities an
occasion that was eagerly awaited. To have a play produced by it was the
goal of the ambitious playwright, both here and abroad.
Through the playing of the Empire Company Frohman introduced Oscar Wilde
to America, and with the stock-company opportunities he developed such
playwrights as Henry Arthur Jones, Haddon Chambers, Sydney Grundy,
Louis N. Parker, Madeline Lucette Ryley, Henry Guy Carleton, Clyde
Fitch, Jerome K. Jerome, and Arthur Wing Pinero.
Having firmly established the Empire Theater, Charles now turned to a
myriad of enterprises. He acquired the lease of the Standard Theater
(afterward the Manhattan) and began there a series of productions that
was to have significant effect on his fortunes.
In May, 1893, he produced a comedy called "Fanny," by George R. Sims, of
London, in which W. J. Ferguson, Frank Burbeck, and Johnston Bennett
appeared. It was a very dismal failure, but it produced one of the
famous Frohman epigrams. Sims sent Frohman the following telegram a few
days after the opening:
_How is Fanny going?_
Whereupon Frohman sent this laconic reply:
_Gone._
Now came another historic episode in Frohman's career. He was making his
annual visit to London. The lure and love of the great city was in him
and it grew with each succeeding pilgrimage. He had learned to select
successful English plays, as the case of "Jane" had proved. Now he was
to go further and capture one of his rarest prizes.
Just about this time Brandon Thomas's farce, "Charley's Aunt," had been
played at the Globe Theater as a Christmas attraction and was staggering
along in great uncertainty. W. S. Penley, who owned the rights, played
the leading part.
Suddenly it became a success, and the "managerial Yankee birds," as they
called the American theatrical magnates, began to roost in London. All
had their claws set for "Charley's Aunt."
Frohman had established an office in London at 4 Henrietta Street, in
the vicinity of Covent Garden. His friendship with W. Lestocq, the
author of "Jane," developed. Lestocq, who was the son of a publisher,
and had graduated from a clever amateur actor into a professional,
conceived a great liking for Frohman. While all the American managers
were angling for "Charley's Aunt," he went to Penley, who was his
friend, and said:
"Frohman has done so well with 'Jane' in America, he is the man to do
'Charley's Aunt.'"
Penley agreed to hold up all his negotiations for the play until Frohman
arrived. A conference was held, and, through the instrumentality of
Lestocq, Frohman secured the American rights to "Charley's Aunt."
At the end of this meeting Lestocq said in jest, "What do I get out of
this?"
"I'll show you," said Frohman. "You shall represent me in London
hereafter."