time again in America.
_To William Seymour, his stage-manager, about a performance of one of
his plays:_
When you rehearse to-day will you try and get the old woman out of
too much crying; get some smiles, and stop her screwing up her face
every time she speaks. Of course, it's nervousness, but it looks as
if she were ill.
_To one of his associates:_
Miss Adams's receipts last week in Boston were the largest in the
history of Boston theaters or anywhere--$23,000. But I had some
others which I won't tell you about.
_To an English author in 1913:_
At present the taste is "down with light plays, down with literary
plays." They want plays with dramatic situations, intrigue, sex
conflict. There is no use in giving the public what it does not
want and what they ought to have. I am just finding that out, with
much cost.
_To a French agent:_
It seems a little reckless to be asked to pay $2,500 for the
privilege of reading a new French play. The author seems to want to
get rich quickly. I would be willing to add to his wealth if he has
something that can be produced without such a preliminary penalty.
_To W. Lestocq:_
When one talks to an English author about "Diplomacy," he says,
"Oh, that's a theatrical play!" I wish I could get another like it.
_To an English manager:_
A hundred theaters here are a few too many. Houses have closed on a
Saturday night without any warning. Boston, Chicago, and
Philadelphia have been better. You see we have this wonderful
country to fall back on, which makes it different from London.
_To an author in London:_
What you say is quite true; a good play is a good play; but the
difficulty I find is to ascertain through the public and the
box-office what _they_ think is a good play. Our opinion is only
good for ourselves. But give me a dramatic play and I'll put it at
once to the test.
_To Hubert Henry Davies, the dramatist, during an interim of that
author's activities:_
It grieves me when I can't get your material going, especially as I
want to come over as soon as I can and get one of those nice
lunches in your nice apartment.
_To the manager of an up-state New York theater regarding an impending
first-night performance:_
I hope we shall draw a representative audience the first night. I
know audiences with you are sometimes a little reluctant about
first nights. I can't understand this myself. In my opinion there
is an extra thrill for them in the experience of a first
performance, as it is a special event.
_To Granville Barker, January, 1913:_
I am very jealous of the Barrie plays, and I do want them for my
own theater for revivals.... I hear such good reports about your
Shakespearian work that I am awfully pleased. I have had a Marconi
from Shakespeare himself, in which he speaks highly of what you
have done for his work. I am sure this will be as gratifying to you
as it is to me.
_Alluding to his painful rheumatism in a letter to George Edwardes, the
producer, in England, January, 1913:_
I can't run twelve yards, but I can drink a lot of that bottled
lemonade of yours when I get over. In fact, at the moment I think
that is the best thing running in London.
_In February, 1913, Frohman made frequent trips to Baltimore to rehearse
and superintend the production of his plays in that city. He has this to
say of Baltimore in a letter to Tunis F. Dean, manager of a theater
there:_
I was glad to have an opportunity of seeing your fine theater, for
I have decided on a very important production with one of our
leading stars there next season. So that I shall spend a week in
Baltimore. I like that. There is no one living in Baltimore that
has a greater regard for that fine, dignified city. I have had it
for years, and with the beautiful theater and my feeling for
Baltimore and you at the head of that theater, I am looking forward
with pleasure to coming to you next season.
_Frohman was simple, direct, and forcible in his criticism of plays. In
rejecting a French play, he wrote to Michael Morton in defense of his
judgment, New York, February, 1913:_
I was awfully glad you made arrangements for the play, the one I
don't like, and I hope the other fellow is right. These
three-cornered French plays are going to have a hard time over here
in the future unless they contain something that is pretty big,
novel, or human. The guilty wife is a joke here now, and they have
lots of fun when they play these scenes in these plays. The
American and English play is different. They get there quicker in a
different manner instead of the old-fashioned scheme. Of course,
French plays, as you say, may be laid in England and in America. I
understand that. But even then it seems to be about the same as if
they were in France.
_His brief, epigrammatic style of criticism is evident in a letter to
Charles B. Dillingham, wherein he speaks of a certain play under
consideration:_
I think the end of the play is not good. It is that old-time
stand-around-with-a-glass-of-wine-in-your-hand and wish success to
the happy people.
_Extracts from an interview with Frohman which he wrote for the London
papers, March, 1913:_
There will be no change in my work of producing for the London
stage. I shall continue to do so at my own theaters or with other
London managers just as long as I am producing on any stage, and I
fear that will be for a long time yet, as I am younger now than I
was twenty years ago.
_Prior to his departure for England he wrote the following to John Drew
in March, 1913:_
Thanks for your fine letter. It is like this, John: I hope to get
off next week, but I don't seem to be able to get the
accommodations I want on either one of the steamers that I should
like to travel on, and that sail next week. I need a little special
accommodation on account of my leg, which still refuses to answer
my call and requires the big stick.
_To Alfred Sutro, in January, 1913, on the current taste in plays:_
These American plays with thieves, burglars, detectives, and
pistols seem to be the real things over here just now. None of them
has failed.
_Memorandum for his office-boy, Peter, for a week's supply of his
favorite drinks:_
Get me plenty of orange-juice, lemon soda, ginger ale,
sarsaparilla, buttermilk.
_To Alfred Sutro, 1913:_
Haddon Chambers sails to-day. You may see him before you see this.
He leaves behind him what I think will give him many happy returns
(box-office) of the season, as Miss Barrymore is doing so well with
his "Tante."
_To W. Lestocq, concerning one of his leading London actresses:_
Miss Titheridge is all right, as I wrote Morton, if her emotions
can be kept down, and if she can try to make the audience act more,
and act less herself.
_To Michael Morton regarding an actress:_
She needs to be told that real acting is not to act, but to make
the audience feel, and not feel so much herself.
_To the editor of a popular monthly magazine upon its first birthday:_
I understand that your September issue will be made to mark ----'s
first birthday. Judging from your paper your birthday plans miss
the issue; because---- becomes a year younger every September. I do
_not_ congratulate you even upon this fact; because you cannot help
it. I do _not_ congratulate your readers because they get your
paper so very cheap. I _do_ congratulate myself, however, for
calling attention to these wonderful facts.
_To W. Lestocq, referring to a statement made by R. C. Carton, the
dramatist:_
I don't quite understand what he means by "holding up" the play.
Over here it is a desperate expression--one that means pistols and
murder, and all that. I presume it means something different in
London, where Carton lives.
_To Mrs. C. C. Cushing, the playwright, declining an invitation:_
It is impossible to come and see you because I haven't got Cottage
No. 4, but I've got Cell No. 3 on the stage of the Empire Theater,
where I am passing the summer months.
_Even Frohman's cablegrams reflected his humor. In 1913 Billie Burke was
ill at Carlsbad, so he cabled her some cheering message nearly every
day. Here is a sample:_
Drove past your house to-day and ran over a dog. Your brother
glared at me.
_When Blanche Bates's first baby was born (she was at her country house
near Ossining at the time), Frohman sent her this message:_
Ossining has now taken its real place among the communities of the
country. Congratulations.
_To Alfred Sutro, January, 1913:_
I was glad to hear from you. First let me strongly advise you to
take the comedy side for the Alexander play. I honestly believe,
unless it is something enormous, and for big stars and all that,
the other side is no good any more. For the present, anyway, I
speak of my own country. The usual serious difficulties between a
husband and wife of that class--really they laugh at here now,
instead of touching their emotions. They have gone along so
rapidly. Take my advice in this matter, do! I am glad you have
dropped that scene from the third act of your Du Maurier play.
Now that I am back to town I intended writing you about it. I
assure you I had a jolly good time for the first two acts of that
farce, and I can see Gerald Du Maurier all through it. The third
act worries me for this country, as I wrote you. But the
performance may change all this. It is so difficult to judge
farcical work where it is so thoroughly English in its scene that I
speak of to get any idea from the reading of it for this country.
Everything is going along splendidly.
_To Haddon Chambers, March, 1913:_
I propose, and the troupes dispose! We had a lot of floods and
things here which keep us on the move, or keep our troupes moving
so much that I am compelled to postpone my sailing until April 12th
on the _Olympic_, which makes it just a little later when I have
the joy of seeing you. My best regards.
_To Richard Harding Davis, July, 1913:_
All right, we'll fix the title. I am glad they are asking about it.
About people, they all seem to want Collier salaries. As you have
chiefly character parts, and they are so good, I think it would be
a good idea for us to create a few new stars through you, and
Yours truly,
CHARLES FROHMAN.
_To George Edwardes, July, 1913:_
First, I am glad to hear that you are away giving your heart a
chance. I am back here trying to give my pocket-book a chance.
_To William Collier, September, 1913:_
All right, all arranged, Thursday night in New York; Monday and
Tuesday in Springfield, Massachusetts. I shall leave here Monday
ready to meet the performance and anything else! I hope all is
well.
_To Viola Allen, September, 1913:_
I was awfully glad to get your letter. First let me say you had
better come to see "Much Ado About Nothing" this Saturday, because
it is the last week. We withdraw it to-morrow night and produce a
new program at once. "Much Ado" wouldn't do for more than two
weeks. After that it fell. Of course I find on Broadway it is quite
impossible to run Shakespeare to satisfying "star" receipts. So
come along to-morrow if you can. It would be fine to have you, and
fine to have some of the original members of the Empire company to
play in this house, and I should like it beyond words. I don't,
however, believe in that sex-against-sex play. In these great days
of the superiority of woman over mere man I don't think it would
do.
_Referring to a young actress he wished to secure, he writes to Col.
Henry W. Savage in January, 1913:_
My dear Colonel: I want to enter on your works in this way. You
have a girl called----. I know she is very good, because I have
never seen her act, but I understand she is not acting just as you
want her to, and therefore not playing, either because she is
laying off, or that you have stopped her from playing. I have a
part for which I could use this girl. Will you let me have her, and
in that way do another great wrong by doing me a favor? If she
doesn't, or you do not wish her to play, perhaps it would be as
much satisfaction to you if you thought you were doing me a favor
and let her play in my company as if she were not playing at all.
My best regards, and I hope this letter will not add much to the
many pangs of the season to you.
_To Sir James M. Barrie, October, 1913:_
As I wrote you, I felt we had a good opportunity here under the
conditions here, and I produced your "The Dramatists Get What They
Want" last night. It went splendidly with the audiences, and has
very good press. Of course the class of first-night audience that
we had last night understood it. The censor is a new thing over
here. The general public don't understand it, and it may on that
account not make so strong an impression on further audiences.
However, that is all right. I am delighted with the way it went,
and you would have been delighted had you been present. I think the
press was very good when you consider the subject is so new to us.
The three plays have all, I assure you, been nicely done, well
produced and cast, and you would be pleased with them as I am
pleased in having had them to produce. It helped considerably with
plays that would not have made much of an impression without them.
It has helped the general business of these plays, which, although
it is not great, is good, and makes a fair average every week. It
is chiefly what you would call "stall" business. "The Will" has
been a fine thing for John Drew, and he is very happy in it. He has
made a very deep impression indeed. I think the part with the
changes of character as played by him has made it really a star
part. If you have any more of them, send them along.
_To W. Somerset Maugham, October, 1913:_
Regarding the first act of "The Land of Promise," this is what I
think, and maybe you will think the same, and, if you do, give me a
good speech. Send it as soon as you can. I think that we should
have a different ending to the first act, uplifting the ending.
After the girl tells about her brother being married, wouldn't it
be a good idea for her to say something like this, in your own
language, of course: "Canada! Canada! You are right." (Turning to
Miss Pringle), "England, why should I stay in England? I'm young, I
want gaiety, new life. Then why not go to a young country where all
is life and gaiety and sunshine and joy and youth--the land of
promise, the land for me?" Remember, in the last act she speaks of
all she expected to find and how different the realization. This
new idea of the end of the first act will help this speech, I
think. And besides uplifting the ending, gives the great contrast
we want to show in the play and is driven into the minds of the
audience at the end of the first act. Give the girl a good
uplifting speech at the end of the first act, instead of a downward
one. That is what I mean. Then after that we get the contrast of
the countries. I hope this is clear and you will understand what I
mean.
_To J. E. Dodson, October, 1913:_
My greatest regret is that my profession takes me to Baltimore on
the day that you are giving the dinner at the Lotus Club to my
friend Cyril Maude. It would give me the greatest pleasure to eat
his health with you. I rejoice that you are giving recognition on
his first arrival here in New York to such a sincere actor and such
a real man. He belongs to all countries.
_To Haddon Chambers, June, 1911:_
Had a fine trip over. Found it hot here. Started in building your
scenery. Am only dropping you a line because I want to ask you,
while I think of it, if you will get a copy of that special morning
dress that Gerald wears at the beginning of the second act, for
Richard Bennett. I think it would be a good idea to bring it over.
Bennett is not quite as tall as Du Maurier and just a bit thicker,
and as it is a sort of loose dress there will be no difficulty in
fitting it here.
Now our cast is in good shape for your play, and I am very pleased
with it. We have an asylum full of children awaiting your selection
on your arrival.
_To Sir Arthur Wing Pinero, August, 1911:_
The man I selected to produce your play is Charles Frohman. He is
not only good at producing plays that have never been staged
before, but he likes your play thoroughly. He has made such a
careful study of it that he believes that he knows it in every
detail. He feels confident of his ability to handle it and to make
the changes you have made just as he thinks you and your public
over here would like to have it done.
_To Sir James M. Barrie, London, September, 1911:_
This will be signed for me, as I am still confined to my
bed--fighting rheumatism. I thought I would not write you until you
return to London. All goes well here. So far my new productions
have met with success. Miss Barrymore began in Mason's play last
night in Trenton, New Jersey. The play was well received before a
large audience. Miss Adams begins the new season in Buffalo next
Monday night. I am hoping within the next two weeks to be able to
get out on crutches. I have been to many rehearsals. They carry me
in a Bath chair to and from the theater.
_To Somerset Maugham, September, 1911:_
Thanks for yours. I am still down with rheumatism--partly on
account of the weather, but more especially because you are not
doing any work.
_To a New York critic, October, 1911:_
I hope in two or three weeks to be able to see myself as other good
critics, like you, would see me--well and about again in my various
theaters.
_To Sir James M. Barrie, November, 1911:_
Your letter was a delight, and it will be fine news for Miss Adams.
I hope you will send the material as soon as you can. Here I am
dictating to you from bed; so I will be brief. My foot is now tied
to a rope which is tied to the bed with weights. They are trying to
stretch the leg. I am hoping that in three or four weeks I may be
able to sit around. Five months on one's back is not good for much
more than watching aeroplanes.
_To Sir James M. Barrie, December, 1911:_
I was very glad to get your letter. I am still in bed, so that I am
obliged to dictate this letter to you. The manuscript arrived, but
found me out of condition to read it. I sent it on at once to Maude
Adams. She telegraphed me how delighted she is with it, and I have
had a letter from her telling me what a remarkable piece of work it
is. When she gets back to town I shall read the manuscript. Any
plan you work out for London will be fine. I should judge, without
knowing, that your idea for matinees is the best.
I am hoping that in another month I will be out; I am living on
that hope. Then I will commence to think about coming over to you.
I dare not think of it until I once more get out, I am afraid. All
this has naturally disturbed my London season. I am happy in the
thought that we will soon have "Peter" on again in London. What a
difference your plays made to my London season!
I shall write you again soon. "Peter and Wendy" is fine. My most
affectionate remembrances.
_To Sir James M. Barrie, January, 1912:_
I cabled you on receiving your letter because my voice was leaving
me rapidly. It was a case of a bad throat, and I wanted to get some
reply to you quickly. My throat is better now. I have had about
everything, and I fear I shall have to keep to my rooms for some
time to come. I hope to see you around the end of March.
I think your Shakespearian play is a most wonderful work. I quite
appreciate all you say about its chances. I rather felt that a
Shakespearian novelty of this kind would be most striking if
produced by Tree on top of his newspaper claim of having lost over
40,000 pounds on Shakespeare.
I am all bungled up here. I don't know quite what to do about
London this season. As I understood what you wanted, I replied as I
did. You know how I hate to lose any of your work for anybody or
anywhere. Now you understand. That is splendid about the Phillpotts
play, and I thank you. I am hoping about the Pinero play. I shall
be glad to see you.
This is all the voice I have left for dictation; so I end with my
best regards.
_To David Belasco, February, 1912:_
This is written for me. I am still confined to my rooms, and,
although able to sit up during the day for work, I do not get out
in the evening. I was glad to hear from you, and I hope you will
telephone that you will come round any old night that suits you.
I wish you could play "Peter Grimm" up here; I'd like to see it.
_To Sir James M. Barrie, February, 1912:_
I haven't written you because lately I have been having a lot of
pain. I sent you papers which will tell you how wonderfully your
fine play--"A Slice of Life"--has been received. It has caused a
tremendous lot of talk; but I just want to tell you that there is
absolutely no comparison, in performance, as the play is given here
and the way it was given in London. Fine actors, although the
London cast had, my people here seem to have a better grasp of what
you wanted. They have brought it out with a sincerity and
intelligence of stroke that is quite remarkable. Ethel Barrymore
never did better work. Her emotional breakdown, tears, her
humiliation--when she confesses to her husband that she had been a
good woman even before she met him, all this is managed in a keener
fashion, and with even a finer display of stage pathos than she
showed in her fine performance in "Mid-Channel."
As the husband, Jack Barrymore is every inch a John Drew. He feels,
and makes the audience feel, the humiliation of his position. When
he confesses, it is a terrible confession. Hattie Williams, in her
odd manner, imitated Nazimova--as Nazimova would play a butler.
So these artists step out into the light--before a houseful of
great laughter; one feels that they have struck the true note of
what you meant your play should have. I think the impossible
seriousness of triangle scenes in modern plays has been swept off
the stage here--and "A Slice of Life" has done it....
The effect of "A Slice of Life" is even greater and more general
than "The Twelve-Pound Look." All agree that each year you have
given our stage the real novelty of its theatrical season. And the
fine thing about it is that you have given me the opportunity of
putting these before the public.
I am getting along very slowly. I am able to do my work in my rooms
and go on crutches for a couple of hours at rehearsals. But always
I am in great pain. I hope to see you by the end of March. I don't
know whether you will shake my hand or my crutch. But I expect to
be there. We can take up the matters of "A Slice of Life," etc.,
then.
I am so delighted about "Peter Pan" this season. I am wondering if
you have done anything about that Shakespeare play, which I believe
would be another big novelty.
_To Sir Arthur Wing Pinero, March, 1912:_
Perhaps this will reach you on your return from the Continent. I
hope you have made a good trip and that you are happy.
I hope to give you for the "Mind the Paint Girl" Miss Billie Burke,
who is an enormous attraction here. She played in her little piece
from the French last week in St. Louis to $15,700. All the way
along the line her houses are sold out completely before her
appearance. Her play is only a slight thing--an adaptation from the
French, but play-goers seem to have gone wild over her. Besides
this, she is not only handsome, but every inch the very
personification of the "Paint Girl." Moreover, she is a genuinely
human actress. It will be a big combination for me to make--the
large cast required for the "Paint Girl," together with this
valuable star and your great play.
_To John Drew, March, 1912:_
I am glad to hear from you and to know that you are having
freezingly cold weather in the South. The joke is on the people
here. They think you are having such nice warm weather.
I am getting along pretty well. I am about the same as when you
left me except that there is great excitement among my doctors
because I can now move my small toe.
_To Sir James M. Barrie, September, 1913:_
"Half an Hour" has been going splendidly and had a fine reception
the first night. The majority of the press were splendid indeed,
one or two felt an awakening to see the change in the work that you
have been doing. I am awfully pleased the way it came out. I am
delighted to see that you have added another act to the "Adored
One." That makes it a splendid program for Miss Adams. Making it a
three-act play is fine for this side, as I cabled you. All the
Americans coming home who have seen your play are delighted with it
in every way. Hope all is going well. I am leaving to-morrow to
meet Maude Adams and see the piece that she is now playing called
"Peter Pan." I shall be away from New York for perhaps a week, and
on my return I will write you again fully.
_To Alfred Sutro, September, 1911:_