play, ’The Doll Master,’ which served so many emotional actresses
on the road. It was founded on many incidents in my Virginia City
career, and I remember how much I made of the scene occurring in
the house of Annie Grier. I even went to the extreme of introducing
the casket of the dead girl, and her weeping companions around it.
Then it was that I learned my first big lesson in _suggestion_--a
lesson which has been one of the greatest that has ever been
brought home to me. As a dramatist it was not incumbent on me to
show everything to the audience--only enough to stimulate the
imagination. My task was to let the audience know that somewhere
near was the casket. How many times since then have I spent hours
and hours devising the best means of thus appealing to the
imagination. In the olden days when there was a battle scene a
scanty crowd of supers was marshalled upon the stage in farcical
fashion, and you could hear the tin armor rattle as the warriors
fought half-heartedly. This matter of suggestion being uppermost in
my mind, it occurred to me that much more effect could be gained,
as far as proportion and magnitude were concerned, by having those
fights off stage. I put this theory of mine into practice when the
time came for me to produce my ’The Girl I Left Behind Me.’ The
audience heard the Indians chanting, and heard the approach of the
United States soldiers off stage, and they did not know whether
there were ten or ten thousand men at hand. It is my impression
that this was the first instance of suggested warfare seen in the
East.”
The principle here expounded is exactly right,--and, as used in the
original production of “The Girl I Left Behind Me,” it was splendidly
successful. Yet when that drama was revived, March 12, 1894, at the
Academy of Music, where it ran till June 2, Belasco, deferring to an
alleged or assumed requirement of popular taste, introduced, at the
climax of the Third Act, a troop of mounted cavalry, which dashed upon
the stage--and, though popular enough with the “groundlings,” spoiled
the artistic effect of the play.
An interesting sidelight with regard to the writing of “The Girl I Left
Behind Me” is provided in the following fragment of reminiscence by
Belasco,--though, whether consciously or not, it is certain that the
influence of Boucicault’s “Jessie Brown” (which he had produced in San
Francisco in his stock company days) operated on his mind in writing his
Indian drama:
A SUGGESTIVE REMINISCENCE OF FRONTIER DAYS.
Writing of the inception of this play, Belasco says:
“During the ’Heart of Maryland’ days, when I was in the South, I
met Mrs. George Crook, widow of General George Crook, who fought in
the Civil War and afterwards gained fame as an Indian fighter. Mrs.
Crook delighted in relating her husband’s exploits and I delighted
in hearing them. Her tales were exciting, and the general’s
uniform, his sword and pistols, his boots and spurs, made the
scenes she was describing very convincing and in my mind I
dramatized everything she told me.
“‘I always accompanied the general,’ said Mrs. Crook, ’and shared
many of his dangers.’ Immediately there came before me the
spectacle of a woman within easy reach of the firing-line, facing
the anguish and uncertainty of never seeing her husband alive
again, and her own terrible fate if the battle went against him.
One incident impressed me particularly. ’The general had rounded up
a band of Indians whom he had been pursuing for some time,’ said
Mrs. Crook, ’and the place where he was to give them battle was so
close to our camp that he was in great distress for my safety. He
condemned himself bitterly for having permitted me to come with
him. If the battle were lost, we in the camp would be at the mercy
of the Indians. An orderly was holding the general’s horse, but my
husband could not bear to leave our tent. Three times he started
and returned. He and I once made an agreement that were I in danger
of being captured I was to shoot myself. And now, under the stress
of great necessity, he reminded me of the compact, and saw that my
revolver was in good order. We read the Bible together, prayed,
kissed, and parted. All through the night I sat in the camp,
knowing if the battle were lost I must die before the savages could
surround us. I heard the sounds of firing, and knew the fighting
was desperate. After hours of waiting I heard hurried steps. Some
one was running towards my tent. I grasped my pistol, thinking my
time had come. “We’ve licked ’em,” I heard a soldier cry. He had
been sent by the general to tell me all was well. I sank to the
ground, overcome by the relief, after the suspense I had endured.
You can imagine my joy when the general came back to me!’
“I had always intended to dramatize this adventure of Mrs. Crook’s,
and decided to do it now. This was the inspiration for ’The Girl I
Left Behind Me.’”
BELASCO AND CHARLES FROHMAN.
Belasco and Charles Frohman were intimate friends during many years.
Their amicable relations continued until some time after the Theatrical
Syndicate became operative, and, although then temporarily interrupted,
were renewed before Frohman’s death. In the Spring of 1893 Belasco,
conscious of crippling restraint in his activities in theatrical
business life, became dissatisfied with Frohman, particularly as to his
managerial connection with the presentment of Mrs. Carter in “Miss
Helyett.” Some disquietude occurred, but no serious dissension arose, as
the following letter, showing Frohman in an amiable light, sufficiently
indicates. This epistle relates to negotiations concerning possible
productions in London of “The Girl I Left Behind Me,” “The Heart of
Maryland” (then unfinished), and “The Younger Son,”--the latter being
meant by “your new play that goes on here at the Empire.”
A CHARLES FROHMAN LETTER.
(_Charles Frohman to David Belasco._)
“Empire Theatre, New York,
“June 15, 1893.
“MY DEAR DAVE:--
“I have not written you in reply to your second letter to me,
hoping that you might run in and see me. Roeder tells me that you
are very busy on your play and could not say when you could run
over to see me.
“First: I wish to say that I have made no arrangements in London
for the production of ’The Girl I Left Behind Me,’ or the new play.
The points in this regard I prefer giving you personally.
“Second: I extremely regret the several censures you have made in
respect to my end of the work in connection with ’Miss Helyett.’ I
do not think that you have given me credit for the absolute
personal interest in the matter that I have taken, as far as you
are concerned, and which went far beyond the business part of the
enterprise. I think, viewing the fact that the opera itself did not
make a sensation, that I stayed with you, in the matter, to the
last, and should have continued, no matter how long we were
together in the thing. Whether or not you have thought over these
facts, and my determination in the matter, when you see the thing
from the start, I don’t know. I felt that you did.
“Now in regard to the new play--‘Maryland’--I want you to arrange
the thing in any way that you like. I prefer losing the play itself
to your friendship, which I was in hopes was strong and solid, in
spite of everything. I am perfectly willing to have you make any
arrangement that you may think best for the play. I would rather
withdraw than to have matters in a business way come up during the
season that would, in any way, annoy you, as far as I am concerned,
and which constantly seem to come up, when there are a number of
people concerned with an enterprise. I say to you again, don’t
consider me in any way; but, under any circumstances, I should like
to do the following for you, if you feel disposed to have me do it:
“I will furnish you with theatres to play the piece in. I will
absolutely protect the route for you, and as you wish it, in any
way. I should like to protect the piece in England for you, for, if
it is very successful, it would do no harm to spend a little money
to have Mrs. Carter play the piece over there, three or four weeks
next Summer. The arrangement can easily be made, if the play turns
out what you think it will. I should like to furnish you with any
people that you care to have, that I may have. In fact, do anything
in my power for you, or continue my interest in any way that you
may suggest; but it is impossible to give the personal time and
attention over to the work that I feel you expect of me, and which
it is impossible to give; and that is the reason the handling of
plays comes so easy. When they are once started, I do not have to
give them attention. If they are successful [then], the season will
run [them] along in their own way. At any rate, I am entirely in
your hands in regard to the matter and hope the outcome may be that
it will not interfere with the friendship that I feel sure has
existed between us.
“In regard to my announcement on my return here: you will notice
that I did not speak of your new play that goes on here at the
Empire. My intention was simply to give a list of the work I had
accomplished abroad, because the papers insisted upon having it. If
I could have had my own way I would not have spoken of any of the
plays I have secured, but it was necessary to do so, and as the
list looks very English and French I prefix my remarks by showing a
list of American authors that I have been making arrangements with,
previous to my sailing, so as to show that I was still doing
American work, and to save any comment on this point;--and,
naturally, [I] consider your piece to come under the head of plays
that I had already made arrangements for.
“I should like very much, if possible, for you to give over a
little time to Unitt, in arranging the models of your new play. I
want to commence on same, just as soon as Unitt is through with his
present work, so as to have the production ready, when we open with
’Liberty Hall’ here.
“Yours truly,
“CHARLES FROHMAN.”
A BAFFLED ENTERPRISE IN CHICAGO.
Belasco, though his disagreements with Charles Frohman were, for the
time, amicably adjusted, was not acquiescent to remain in a position
which, continuously maintained, would have kept him still a carrier of
bricks to the theatrical buildings of other men. He was now forty years
old. For more than twenty years his lot had been chiefly toil and
hardship: experience had taught him that “living is striving”: abundant
opportunity had been provided for him to learn the truth so tersely
stated by Wendell Phillips that the world is made up of two kinds of
persons,--those who _do_ things, and those who stand by to tell others
how things should be done. Though not embittered, he was in danger of
becoming so, and he felt more than ever resolved to _make_ a place for
himself in the managerial field, if he could not _find_ one. “I, too,”
he has said, “as well as Charles Frohman, had my dreams of a theatre _of
my own_,--a place where I could do things in my own way,--and _I meant
to have it_!”
Finding it impossible to obtain support such as he desired and a
satisfactory opening in New York (notwithstanding Charles Frohman’s
offer to furnish theatres for presentation of “The Heart of Maryland”),
Belasco now determined to try R. M. Hooley, of Chicago, who had
manifested interest and confidence in him, during the engagement in that
city of “The Ugly Duckling”; who, perhaps, remembered his early mistake
in refusing “Hearts of Oak,” and who certainly, like all other
theatrical workers of the time, had been favorably impressed by the
success of “The Girl I Left Behind Me.” Belasco at first wrote to Hooley
about Mrs. Carter, but, later, he visited Chicago, for the purpose of
stating his project in detail. There he found that Mr. “Harry” Powers,
Hooley’s agent and business manager of his theatre, was strongly opposed
to the idea of bringing out Mrs. Carter in that city. Powers frankly
said: “I have advised Mr. Hooley to have _nothing whatever_ to do with
your venture. This is the most fashionable theatre in Chicago: Mrs.
Carter is not wanted here, and we cannot afford to make enemies.”
Hooley, however, was in a more propitious mood, and expressed himself
willing to rely on Belasco’s judgment, if he really believed that in
Mrs. Carter he had a fine actress and also that he had a suitable new
play in which to present her. Belasco fervently extolled the ability of
Mrs. Carter, and read to him “The Heart of Maryland.” Hooley was
favorably impressed and agreed to produce the play, presenting Mrs.
Carter in the central part, provided that Belasco would agree to give
him an option on all plays which he might thereafter write. The
influences which, later, crystallized in the Theatrical Syndicate, were
already beginning to make themselves felt in the theatrical world, and
Hooley, like many other managers, perceived a danger and was wary of
it. “I purpose to produce my own ’attractions,’” he informed Belasco,
“and let the Eastern producers go hang!”
Hooley offered fair terms, the agreement for the presentment of Mrs.
Carter as a “star” in “The Heart of Maryland” was formally made, and
thus cheered and encouraged Belasco returned to New York, to prepare his
play for production and engage a company to act in it. “As I was
leaving,” he said, “Hooley delighted me by asking me to send him a large
framed portrait of Mrs. Carter, to hang in the lobby of his theatre.” In
New York Belasco read his play to Maurice Barrymore (1848-1905) and E.
J. Henley (1862-1898) and engaged them for the company, and he was
engaging other members thereof when Hooley suddenly died,--September 10,
1893. Mr. Powers was placed in charge of the theatre which had been
Hooley’s, and, as he promptly notified Belasco, made a long-term
contract with Messrs. Klaw & Erlanger to furnish him with “attractions”
for that house, and repudiated the engagement which Hooley had made: “I
was politely kicked out,” said Belasco, “and that was the end of _that_!
It was too late in the year to make new arrangements for that season
about ’Maryland,’ and, besides, I didn’t know exactly what to do or
which way to turn. If ’The Younger Son,’--which came next and on which
I worked hard,--had proved successful, things might have turned out
differently; but that fizzled, and afterward I seemed to be just as far
as ever from being able to strike out for myself.”
“THE YOUNGER SON.”
The Empire closed for the season with the final performance there of
“The Girl I Left Behind Me,” and reopened on August 21, with a
performance of “Liberty Hall,” which ran till October 23. Meantime,
Belasco, having heard of the success of a German play entitled “Schlimme
Saat” (“Evil Seeds”), had bought the American rights and, on receiving
the manuscript,--knowing that Frohman’s establishment at the Empire
Theatre was not yet entirely secure, and being wishful still further to
help him,--had immediately laid aside “The Heart of Maryland” and
addressed himself to making an English version of the German drama.
“They proved evil, even fatal, seeds to _me_,” he said. “I know now that
six months’ time would have been little enough for so great a work, but
I made a version of it in four weeks, working night and day. When it was
completed, I took the play to ’C. F.’ and in response to his suggestion,
called it ’The Younger Son.’” Why Belasco should have deemed this
German play a “great work” I do not understand. It is, in fact, a
tediously prolix and sometimes morbid story dealing with the history of
two brothers, the elder a selfish, heartless profligate, the younger an
ambitious artist, both the idols of a foolishly fond mother. The artist
is delighted by the news that his favorite picture (a work of no special
merit) has been bought by a rich picture fancier, who is willing to send
him to Italy to study. This apparent benevolence is, in fact, a plot to
get him out of the way and rob him of the girl he loves, who has agreed
to sell herself in order to get for him this opportunity to study
abroad. In Belasco’s English version all the hydrostatic pressure that
the story could possibly be made to carry had been added, but, as the
performance of “Evil Seeds” was a complete failure, it would be
superfluous to dwell upon it. The play was produced at the Empire on
October 24 and withdrawn on October 27, after four performances. It has
never been revived. For the purpose of record the cast is appended:
_Paul Kirkland_ Henry Miller.
_John Kirkland_ James E. Wilson.
_Simeon Brewster_ William Faversham.
_Clarkson MacVeigh_ W. H. Thompson.
_Peter Bogart_ W. H. Crompton.
_Dick Major_ Cyril Scott.
_Nell Armitage_ Viola Allen.
_Mrs. Kirkland_ Mrs. D. P. Bowers.
_Margaret_ Odette Tyler.
_Dolly Chester_ Edna Wallace Hopper.
_Agnes_ Edith Marion.
_Tommy_ Master John McKeever.
_Bess_ Little Percita West.
Writing about this dismal failure, Belasco says:
“I had no doubt about the merits of the First and Second acts, but
the Third Act needed slow and careful work in the writing. The fate
of the piece depended upon one situation in this Act,--a period of
about two minutes. With this situation made convincing, the play’s
success was assured. On the opening night, everything went well up
to this point. ‘“C. F.,” I whispered, ’if we pass this crisis we
are safe.’ But it was not long before I whispered disconsolately,
‘“C. F.,” we have failed.’ And not waiting for the supper party I
slipped away in the darkness and walked the streets all night.”
The next day Belasco earnestly advised Frohman to withdraw the play at
once, and, after brief hesitation, this was done--“Liberty Hall” being
revived at the Empire, and Belasco, presently, turning again to work on
“The Heart of Maryland.”
[Illustration:
Photograph by Sarony. Belasco’s Collection.
BELASCO, ABOUT 1893]
FIGHTING FOR A CHANCE.
There are, I believe, few instances in theatrical history of a more
protracted experience of the “hope deferred” which “maketh the heart
sick” than befell Belasco with this fine melodrama. The subject, and,
roughly, the story, of that play were in his mind when first he
undertook the training and direction of Mrs. Leslie Carter (1889): again
and again he endeavored to have his play brought on the stage,--but it
was not produced till more than six years after he had resolved to use
it as a vehicle for that actress, and within that period he altered and
reshaped it at least four times. After the death of Hooley and the
failure of “The Younger Son” he was for some time dejected and inert.
Then, reviewing the manuscript of his “Maryland,” he imbibed belief that
the play lacked sufficient verisimilitude to Southern life. “What I
needed most,” he said, “was atmosphere; so I decided to visit a Southern
town and meet some typical Southern families. Mrs. Carter, her mother,
and I went to Oakland, Maryland [1894?], where I added the finishing
touches to the play. When we reached a certain point I bade my
associates good-by and boarded a train for New York, to make another
attempt to find a manager.” Speaking of the experience immediately
preceding the actual accomplishment of his long obstructed purpose,
Belasco told me: “It has always seemed very strange that I should have
been rebuffed on almost every side with that play. If there did not
exist a strong opposition to my getting an independent foothold as a
manager, _why_ was my play of ’Maryland’ refused, over and over again?
Look at the list of successes which I had brought out, _for others_, in
the preceding ten years, including ’La Belle Russe,’ ’May Blossom,’ ’The
Highest Bidder,’ ’The Wife,’ ’Lord Chumley,’ ’The Charity Ball,’ ’Men
and Women,’ and ’The Girl I Left Behind Me.’ Good, bad, or
indifferent--whatever anybody thinks about them--there is no room for
argument as to the _business_ proposition. Those were _all_ great big
popular successes--_money-getters_. Why, when I was more than usually
hard-up, I had been able, often, to get money in advance on my royalties
on plays that had not even been begun. Yet, with a finished play, a
_good_ one, one I’d worked on for years, that I _knew_ was good and that
anybody could see was good; with an actress for whom the leading part
had been made as carefully as though it were a dress for her to wear, I
could not get a hearing. I think pretty nearly every producing manager
in New York refused that play. Why? I never _knew_--and I don’t _know_
now: yet I believed then and I believe now that, underlying all my
difficulty, was far more than any antagonism to Mrs. Carter; that the
men whom afterward I fought for so many years were glad enough to have
me work _for them_ as a stage manager and stock playwright, but that
they were _not_ willing I should get established as an independent
manager.”
This view of Belasco’s position has been stated before, and I have heard
it ridiculed. In my judgment the record of facts fully supports it. It
cannot be proved, but “if imputation and strong circumstances, which
lead directly to the door of truth, will give you satisfaction, you may
have’t.” There is the record--and readers must decide for themselves.
Writing of his dark days in 1894, Belasco has declared:
“My private possessions, my library (containing some very valuable
historical books),--my few antiques,--everything--had been sold. As
a last economy, I decided to give up my little office at Carnegie
Hall. ’This breaks the camel’s back! This _is_ the last straw!’
Mrs. Carter said. ’Mr. David, I’m in the way. They want your
manuscript, but the fact of the matter is, they won’t have me.
You’ve kept your promise and done all you could, but you can’t do
any more; let some one else have my part.’ It was a case of the
blind leading the blind, but I refused to give up.
“I left her and walked down Broadway, where I came face to face
with Paul Potter. ’Dave,’ he exclaimed, ’I was looking for you. A.
M. Palmer has been very unfortunate of late and needs a play. Read
“The Heart of Maryland” to him.’
“In less than an hour Paul Potter and I were on our way to
Stamford. At last my luck had turned! Palmer accepted my play.”
Negotiations with Palmer,--who at the time of Belasco’s withdrawal from
the Lyceum Theatre had been sympathetic with him, had placed the stages
of two theatres at his disposal for rehearsal of Mrs. Carter, and had
even then shown some interest in the projected play,--were brought to a
satisfactory issue, and, in August, 1894, a contract was formally made
whereby Palmer agreed to produce “The Heart of Maryland,” “with his own
stock company, known as ’A. M. Palmer’s Stock Company,’ at Palmer’s
Theatre, in the City of New York, not later than January 1, 1895,” and
also agreed that whether in New York or elsewhere Mrs. Carter should be
employed “to play the part entitled _Maryland Calvert_.” Active
preparations to produce “The Heart of Maryland” immediately were begun;
scenery was designed, built and painted, involving an investment of more
than $3,500; but Palmer was heavily involved, financially, and the
rehearsals, which Belasco was eager to begin, were postponed from week
to week. At last the date limit specified in the agreement passed, yet
Belasco continued to hope and to expect that Palmer would fulfil his
agreement. One day, however, happening to meet Charles Frohman, that
manager told him: “I am very sorry for you, but Palmer won’t be able to
produce ’The Heart of Maryland.’” Belasco at once went to Palmer and
asked him to state his purpose,--“Because,” he said, “I mean that play
_shall_ be produced! If you can’t do it--somebody else _can_.” Palmer,
foreseeing the success of the play, wished to hold it; if Belasco could
have been given any reasonable assurance that, eventually, the elder
manager would be able to bring it out, he would have been glad to wait;
but, after some hesitation, Palmer admitted that he could not set any
definite time, manifesting, at first, a disposition to prevent Belasco
from placing his drama elsewhere. Realizing, however, that the passage
of the date-limit within which he had agreed to produce the play had, in
fact, released Belasco from his contract with him, he finally
acquiesced, asking the latter to take and pay for the scenery which had
been made for it. This Belasco promised should be done, as soon as the
play was produced.
Once more opportunity had seemed to be within his grasp: once more it
eluded him: yet he persevered and resolutely resumed his quest of a
producer. Writing of the manner in which, at last, some months after the
collapse of the arrangement with Palmer, he found one, Belasco has
recorded incidents of his search and the process of his ultimate
success:
“One day I met Mr. Henry Butler in New York. He suggested that we
interest wealthy men and form a stock company. ’But let’s try
another plan first,’ he said. At this time three enterprising young
men were the lessees of the Herald Square Theatre. They were
’Charlie’ Evans, who made a fortune with Hoyt’s ’A Parlor Match,’
F. C. Whitney, and Max Blieman, a picture dealer. They opened the
house with a musical comedy, but wanted to produce a ’straight’
drama. ’I’ll go down and see them myself,’ Butler volunteered, ’and
you wait here for me.’ He brought back good news. ’They have
confidence in you,’ was the cheerful message, ’and they are willing
to “gamble.”’