JOHN DREWJOHN 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 début 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 début 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.
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 ofZuzanne Blondet, a more or less frivolous person, and it was in distinct contrast with the character that she had just abandoned, that ofNell, the consumptive factory-girl in "The Lost Paradise."
A CHARACTERISTIC FROHMAN BLUE PENCIL SKETCHA CHARACTERISTIC FROHMAN BLUE PENCIL SKETCH
AsZuzannein "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, entrée, 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 YorkSun, 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?
How is Fanny going?
Whereupon Frohman sent this laconic reply:
Gone.
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."
Out of this conference came one of the longest and most loyal associations in Charles's career, because from that hour until the day of his death Lestocq represented Charles Frohman in England with a fidelity of purpose and a devotion of interest that were characteristic of the men who knew and worked with Charles Frohman.
W. LESTOCQW. LESTOCQ
Frohman now returned to America to produce "Charley's Aunt." In spite of the success of the Empire, Frohman had "plunged" in various ways, and had reached one of the numerous financial crises in his life. He looked upon "Charley's Aunt" as the agency that was to again redeem him. For the American production he imported Etienne Girardot, who had played the leading rôle in the English production. He surrounded Girardot with an admirable cast, including W. J. Ferguson, Frank Burbeck, Henry Woodruff, Nanette Comstock, and Jessie Busley.
Frohman personally rehearsed "Charley's Aunt." He tried it out first at Bethlehem, Pennsylvania, where the reception was not particularly cordial. He returned to New York in a great state of apprehension, although his good spirits were never dampened. On October 2, 1893, he produced the play at the Standard, and it was an immediate success. As the curtain went down on the first night's performance he assembled the company on the stage and made a short speech, thanking them for their co-operation. It was the first time in his career that he had done this, and it showed how keenly concerned he was. It was another "Shenandoah," because it recouped his purse, depleted from numerous outside ventures, inspired him with a fresh zeal, and enabled him to proceed with fresh enterprises. It ran for two hundred nights, and then duplicated its New York success on the road.
While gunning for "Charley's Aunt," Charles Frohman made his first London production with "The Lost Paradise." He put it on in partnership with the Gattis, at the Adelphi Theater in the Strand. It was a failure, however, and it discouraged him from producing in England for some little time.
These were the years when Frohman was making the few intimate friendships that would mean so much to him until the closing hours of his life. That of Charles Dillingham is an important one.
Dillingham had been a newspaper man in Chicago at a time when George Ade, Peter Dunne, and Frank Vanderlip (now president of the National City Bank) were his co-workers. He became secretary to Senator Squire, and at Washington wrote a play called "Twelve P.M." A manager named Frank Williams produced it in the old Bijou Theater, New York, just about the time that Charles Frohman was presenting John Drew across the street in "The Masked Ball." Dillingham had previously come on to New York, and his hopes, naturally, were in the play. "Twelve P.M." was a dismal failure, but it brought two unusual men together who became bosom friends. It came about in this extraordinary way:
During the second (and last) week of the engagement of "Twelve P.M." at the Bijou, Dillingham, who came every night to see his play, noticed a short, stout, but important-looking man pass into the playhouse.
"Who is that man?" he asked.
He was told it was Charles Frohman.
A few days later he received a letter from Frohman, which said:
Your play lacks all form and construction, but I like the lines very much. Would you like to adapt a French farce for me?
Your play lacks all form and construction, but I like the lines very much. Would you like to adapt a French farce for me?
Dillingham accepted this commission and thus met Frohman. Dillingham was then dramatic editor of the New YorkEvening Sun. One day he called on Frohman and asked him to send him out with a show.
"When do you want to go?"
"Right away."
"Very well," said Frohman, who would always have his little joke. "You can go to-morrow. I would like to get you off that paper, anyhow. You write too many bad notices of my plays."
Dillingham first went out ahead of the Empire Stock Company and afterward in advance of John Drew, in "That Imprudent Young Couple." He left the job, however, and soon returned to Frohman, seeking other work.
"What would you like to do?" asked Frohman.
"Take my yacht and go to England," said Dillingham, facetiously.
"All right," said Frohman. "We sail Saturday," and handed him fifty thousand dollars in stage money that happened to be lying on his desk. Dillingham thought at first he was joking, but he was not. They sailed on theSt. Paul. Frohman had just established his first offices in Henrietta Street. There was not much business to transact, and the pair spent most of their time seeing plays. Dillingham acted as a sort of secretary to Frohman.
One day a haughty Englishman came up to the offices and asked Dillingham to take in his card.
"I have no time," said Dillingham, whose sense of humor is proverbial.
"What have you to do?" asked the man.
"I've got to wash the office windows first," was the reply.
The Englishman became enraged, strode in to Frohman, and told him what Dillingham had said. Frohman laughed so heartily that he almost rolled out of his chair. After the Englishman left he went out and congratulated Dillingham on his jest. From that day dated a Damon and Pythias friendship between the two men. They were almost inseparable companions.
The time was at hand for another big star to twinkle in the Frohman heaven. During all these years William Gillette had developed in prestige and authority, both as actor and as playwright. The quiet, thoughtful, scholarly-looking young actor who had knocked at the doors of the Madison Square Theater with the manuscript of "The Professor," where it was produced after "Hazel Kirke," and whose road tours had been booked by Charles Frohman in his early days as route-maker, now came into his own. Curiously enough, his career was to be linked closely with that of the little man he first knew in his early New York days.
Frohman, who had booked and produced Gillette's play "Held By the Enemy," now regarded Gillette as star material of the first rank. Combined with admiration for Gillette as artist was a strong personal friendship. Gillette now wrote a play, a capital farce called "Too Much Johnson," which Frohman produced with the author as star. In connection with this opening was a typical Frohman incident.
The play was first put on at Waltham, Massachusetts. The house was small and the notices bad. Frohman joined the company next day at Springfield. Gillette was much depressed, and he met Frohman in this mood.
"This is terrible, isn't it? I'm afraid the play is a failure."
"Nonsense!" said Frohman. "I have booked it for New York and for a long tour afterward."
"Why?" asked Gillette in astonishment.
"I saw your performance," was the reply.
CHARLES DILLINGHAMCHARLES DILLINGHAM
Frohman's confidence was vindicated, for when the play was put on at the Standard Theater in November, 1894, it went splendidly and put another rivet in Gillette's reputation.
Frohman now had two big stars, John Drew and William Gillette. A half-dozen others were in the making, chief among them the wistful-eyed little Maude Adams, who was now approaching the point in her career where she was to establish a new tradition for the American stage and give Charles Frohman a unique distinction.
MAUDE ADAMS AS STAR
WhenCharles Frohman put Maude Adams opposite John Drew in "The Masked Ball" he laid the foundation of what is, in many respects, his most remarkable achievement. The demure little girl, who had made her way from child actress through the perils of vivid melodrama to a Broadway success, now set foot on the real highway to a stardom that is unique in the annals of the theater.
Brilliant as was his experience with the various men and women whom he raised from obscurity to fame and fortune, the case of Maude Adams stands out with peculiar distinctness. It is the one instance where Charles Frohman literally manufactured a star's future.
Yet no star ever served so rigorous or so distinguished an apprenticeship. Her five years as leading woman with John Drew tried all her resource. After her brilliant performance asZuzanne Blondetin "The Masked Ball," she appeared in "The Butterflies," by Henry Guy Carleton. She had a much better part in "The Bauble Shop," which followed the next year.
John Drew's vehicle in 1895 was "That Imprudent Young Couple," by Henry Guy Carleton. This play not only advanced Miss Adams materially, but first served to bring forward John Drew's niece, Ethel Barrymore, a graceful slip of a girl, who developed a great friendship with Miss Adams. Following her appearance in the Carleton play came "Christopher Jr.," written by Madeline Lucette Ryley, in which Miss Adams scored the biggest hit of her career up to this time.
It remained for Louis N. Parker's charming play, "Rosemary," which was produced at the Empire Theater in 1896, to put Miss Adams into the path of the man who, after Charles Frohman, did more than any other person in the world to give her the prominence that she occupies to-day.
"Rosemary" was an exquisite comedy, and packed with sentiment. Maude Adams played the part ofDorothy Cruikshank, a character of quaint and appealing sweetness. It touched the hidden springs of whimsical humor and thrilling tenderness, qualities which soon proved to be among her chief assets.
Just about that time a little Scot, James M. Barrie by name, already a distinguished literary figure who had blossomed forth as a playwright with "Walker London" and "The Professor's Love Story," came to America for the first time. For three people destined from this time on to be inseparably entwined in career and fortune, it was a memorable trip. For Barrie it meant the meeting with Charles Frohman, who was to be his greatest American friend and producer; for Miss Adams it was to open the way to her real career, and for Frohman himself it was to witness the beginning of an intimacy that was perhaps the closest of his life.
Barrie's book, "The Little Minister," had been a tremendous success, and, not having acquired the formality of a copyright in America, the play pirates were busy with it. Frohman, after having seen the performance of "The Professor's Love Story," had cabled Barrie, asking him to make a play out of the charming Scotch romance. Barrie at first declined. Frohman, as usual, was insistent. Then followed the Scotchman's trip to America.
Under Frohman's influence he had begun to consider a dramatization of "The Little Minister," but the real stimulus was lacking because, as he expressed it to Frohman, he did not see any one who could play the part ofBabbie.
Now came one of those many unexpected moments that shape lives. On a certain day Barrie dropped into the Empire Theater to see Frohman, who was out.
"Why don't you stop in down-stairs and see 'Rosemary'?" said Frohman's secretary.
"All right," said Barrie.
So he went down into the Empire and took a seat in the last row. An hour afterward he came rushing back to Frohman's office, found his friend in, and said to him, as excitedly as his Scotch nature would permit:
"Frohman, I have found the woman to playBabbiein 'The Little Minister'! I am going to try to dramatize it myself."
"Who is it?" asked Frohman, with a twinkle in his eye, for he knew without asking.
"It is that little Miss Adams who playsDorothy."
"Fine!" said Frohman. "I hope you will go ahead now and do the play."
The moment toward which Frohman had looked for years was now at hand. He might have launched Miss Adams at any time during the preceding four or five seasons. But he desired her to have a better equipment, and he wanted the American theater-going public to know the woman in whose talents he felt such an extraordinary confidence. He announced with a suddenness that was startling, but which in reality conveyed no surprise to the few people who had watched Miss Adams's career up to this time, that he was going to launch her as star.
MAUDE ADAMSCOPYRIGHT, 1914, BY CHARLES FROHMANMAUDE ADAMS
Some of his friends, however, objected.
"Why split and separate a good acting combination?" was their comment, meaning the combination of John Drew and Miss Adams. To this objection Frohman made reply:
"I'll show you the wisdom of it. I'll put them both on Broadway at the same time."
He therefore launched Miss Adams in "The Little Minister" at the Empire and booked John Drew at Wallack's in "A Marriage of Convenience." His decision was amply vindicated, for both scored successes.
Charles Frohman now proceeded to present Miss Adams with his usual lavishness. First of all he surrounded her with a superb company. It was headed by Robert Edeson, who played the title rôle, and included Guy Standing, George Fawcett, William H. Thompson, R. Peyton Carter, and Wilfred Buckland.
With "The Little Minister" Charles Frohman gave interesting evidence of a masterful manipulation to make circumstances meet his own desires. He realized that the masculine title of the play might possibly detract from Miss Adams's prestige, so he immediately began to adapt several important scenes which might have been dominated byGavin Dishart, the little minister, into strong scenes for his new luminary. These changes were made, of course, with Barrie's consent, and added much to the strength of the rôle ofLady Babbie.
To the mastery of the part ofLady BabbieMaude Adams now consecrated herself with a fidelity of purpose which was very characteristic of her. Then, as always, she asked herself the question:
"What will this character mean to the people who see it?"
In other words, here, as throughout all her career, she put herself in the position of her audience. She devoted many weeks to a study of Scotch dialect. She fairly lived in a Scotch atmosphere. One of her friends of that time accused her of subsisting on a diet of Scotch broth.
As was his custom, Frohman gave the piece an out-of-town try-out. It opened on September 13, 1897, a date memorable in the Charles Frohman narrative, in the La Fayette Square Opera House in Washington. It was an intolerably hot night, and, added to the discomfort of the heat, there was considerable uncertainty about the success of the venture itself. This was not due to a lack of confidence in Miss Adams, but to the feeling that the play was excessively Scotch. A brilliant audience, including many people prominent in public life, witnessed the début and seemed most friendly.
Miss Adams regarded the first night as a failure. Financially the play limped along for a week, for the gross receipts were only $3,500. Yet when the play opened in New York two weeks later it was a spectacular success from the start.
Here is another curious example of the importance of the New York verdict. "Hazel Kirke," which became one of the historic successes of the American stage, tottered along haltingly for weeks in Philadelphia, Washington, and Baltimore. In the Quaker City, "Barbara Fritchie," with Julia Marlowe in the title rôle, came dangerously near closing because of discouraging business. Yet she came to New York, and with the exception of "When Knighthood was in Flower," registered the greatest popular triumph she has ever known. This was now the case with "The Little Minister."
Miss Adams was irresistible asLady Babbie. As the quaint, slyly humorous, make-believe gipsy, she found full play for all her talents, and she captured her audience almost with her first speech.
Charles Frohman sat nervously in the wings during the performance. When the curtain went down his new star said to him:
"How did it go?"
"Splendidly," was his laconic comment.
"The Little Minister" ran at the Empire for three hundred consecutive performances, two hundred and eighty-nine of which were to "standing room only." The total gross receipts for the engagement were $370,000—a record for that time.
On the last night of the run Miss Adams received the following cablegram from Barrie:
Thank you, thank you all for your brilliant achievement. "What a glory to our kirk."Barrie.
Thank you, thank you all for your brilliant achievement. "What a glory to our kirk."Barrie.
Maude Adams was now launched as a profitable and successful star. Like many other conscientious and idealistic interpreters of the drama, she had a great reverence for Shakespeare, and she burned with a desire to play in one of the great bard's plays. Charles Frohman knew this. Then, as always, one of his supreme ambitions in life was to gratify her every wish, so he announced that he would present her in a special all-star production of "Romeo and Juliet."
Charles Frohman himself was always frank enough to say that he had no great desire to produce Shakespeare. He lived in the dramatic activities of his day. It was shortly before this time that his brother Daniel, entering his office one day, found him reading.
"I am reading a new book," he said; "that is, new to me."
"What is that?" was the query?
"'Romeo and Juliet,'" he replied.
When Maude Adams dropped the rôle ofBabbieto assume that ofJulietsome people thought the transfer a daring one, to say the least. Even Miss Adams was a little nervous. Not so Frohman. To him Shakespeare was simply a playwright like Clyde Fitch or Augustus Thomas, with the additional advantage that he was dead, and therefore, as there were no royalties to pay, he could put the money into the production.
When Frohman went to rehearsal one day he noticed that the company seemed a trifle nervous.
"What's up?" he asked, abruptly.
Some one told him that the players were fearful lest all the details of the costume and play should not be carried out in strict accordance with history.
"Nonsense!" exclaimed Frohman. "Who's Shakespeare? He was just a man. He won't hurt you. I don't see any Shakespeare. Just imagine you're looking at a soldier, home from the Cuban war, making love to a giggling school-girl on a balcony. That's all I see, and that's the way I want it played. Dismiss all idea of costume. Be modern."
The production of "Romeo and Juliet" was supervised by William Seymour. It was rehearsed in two sections. One half of the cast was in New York, with Faversham and Hackett; the other was on tour with Miss Adams in "The Little Minister." Seymour divided his time between the two wings, with the omnipresent spirit of Frohman over it all.
Miss Adams had made an exhaustive study of the part. After his first conference with her, Seymour wrote to Frohman as follows: