Chapter 14

During their visit in 1899, "Sherlock Holmes" had become the literary rage. Everybody was talking about the masterful detective of Baker Street.

"We must get those Doyle stories," said Frohman to Gillette.

"All right," said the author.

Frohman personally went to see Conan Doyle and made a bid for the rights.

"Certainly, Mr. Frohman," replied Doyle, "but I shall make one stipulation. There must be no love business in 'Sherlock Holmes.'"

"All right," said Frohman; "your wishes shall be respected."

Frohman now engaged Gillette to make the adaptation, but he said absolutely nothing about the condition that Doyle had made. Gillette, as most American theater-goers know, wove a love interest into the strenuous life of the famous detective.

A year later, Gillette and Frohman again were in England, Gillette to read the manuscript of the play to Doyle. The famous author liked the play immensely and made no objection whatever to the sentimental interest. In fact, his only comment when Gillette finished reading the manuscript was:

"It's good to see the old chap again."

He referred, of course, to _Sherlock Holmes_, who, up to this time, had already met his death on four or five occasions.

"Sherlock Holmes" proved to be another "Secret Service" in every way. Gillette made an enormous success in the title role, and after a long run at the Garrick went on the road. Frohman revived it again and again until it had almost as many "farewells" as Adelina Patti. The last business detail that Charles discussed with Gillette before sailing on the fatal trip in 1915 was for a revival of this play at the Empire.

The Frohman Star Factory was now working full time. Next in output came William Faversham. This brilliant young Englishman had started with Daniel Frohman's company at the Lyceum in a small part. At a rehearsal of "The Highest Bidder" Charles singled him out.

"Where did you get your cockney dialect?" he asked.

"Riding on the top of London 'buses," was the reply.

"Well," answered Charles, "I want to do that myself some day."

This was the first contact between two men who became intimate friends and who were closely bound up in each other's fortunes.

During his Lyceum engagement Faversham wanted to widen his activities. He read in the papers one day that Charles was producing a number of plays, so he made up his mind he would try to get into one of them. He went to Frohman's office every morning at half-past nine and asked to see him or Al Hayman. Sometimes he would arrive before Frohman, and the manager had to pass him as he went into his office. He invariably looked up, smiled at the waiting actor, and passed on. Faversham kept this up for weeks. One day Alf Hayman asked him what he wanted there.

"I am tired of hanging round the Lyceum with nothing to do. I want a better engagement," was the answer.

Hayman evidently communicated this to Frohman and Al Hayman, but they made no change in their attitude. Every day they passed the waiting Faversham as they arrived in the morning and went out to lunch, and always Frohman smiled at him.

Finally one morning Charles came to the door, looked intently at Faversham, puffed out his cheeks as was his fashion, and smiled all over his face. Turning to Al Hayman, who was with him, he said:

"Al, we've got to give this fellow something to do or we won't be able to go in and out of here much longer."

In a few moments Frohman emerged again, asked Faversham how tall he was. When he was told, he invited Faversham into his office and inquired of him if he could study a long part and play it in two days. Faversham said he could. The result was his engagement for Rider Haggard's "She." Such was the unusual beginning of the long and close association between Faversham and Charles Frohman.

Faversham became leading man of the Empire Stock Company, and his distinguished career was a matter of the greatest pride to Charles. He now was caught up in the Frohman star machine and made his first appearance under the banner of "Charles Frohman Presents," in "A Royal Rival," at the Criterion in August, 1901.

Charles not only made Faversham a star, but provided him with a wife, and a very charming one, too. In the spring of 1901 an exquisite young girl, Julie Opp by name, was playing at the St. James Theater in London. Frohman sent for her and asked her if she could go to the United States to act as leading woman for William Faversham.

"I have been to America once," she said, "and I want to go back as a star."

When Frohman let loose the powers of his persuasiveness, Miss Opp began to waver.

"I don't want to leave my nice London flat and my English maid," she protested.

"Take the maid with you," said Frohman. "We can't box the flat and take that to New York, but we have flats in New York that you can hire."

"I hate to leave all my friends," continued Miss Opp.

"Well, I can't take over all your friends," replied Frohman, "but you will have plenty of new admirers in New York."

Miss Opp asked what she thought were unreasonable terms. Frohman said nothing, but sent Charles Dillingham to see her next day. He said Frohman wanted to know if she was joking about her price. "Of course," he said, "if you are not joking he will pay it anyhow, because when he makes up his mind to have anybody he is going to have him."

This shamed Miss Opp. She asked a reasonable fee, went to the United States, and not only became Faversham's leading woman, but his wife. Frohman always took infinite delight in teasing the Favershams about having been their matchmaker.

* * *

Charles, who loved to create a sensation in a big way, was now able to gratify one of his favorite emotions with the production of "The Conquerors." Like many of the Frohman achievements, it began in a picturesque way.

During the summer of 1897, Frohman and Paul Potter, being in Paris, dropped in at that chamber of horrors, the Grand Guignol, in the Rue Chaptal. There they saw "Mademoiselle Fifi," a playlet lasting less than half an hour, adapted by the late Oscar Metenier from Guy de Maupassant's short story. It was the tale of a young Prussian officer who gets into a French country house during the war of 1870, abuses the aristocrats who live there, shoots out the eyes of the family portraits, entertains at supper a number of loose French girls from Rouen, and is shot by one of the girls for vilifying Frenchwomen. Frohman was deeply impressed.

"Why can't you make it into a long play?" said Frohman.

"I can," said Potter.

"How?" queried Frohman.

"By showing what happened to the French aristocrats while the Prussian officer was shooting up the place," answered the author.

"Do it," said Frohman, "and I'll open the season of the Empire Stock Company in this drama, and get George Alexander interested for London."

As "The Conquerors" the play went into rehearsal about Christmas. Mrs. Dazian, wife of Henry Dazian, the costumier, was watching a scene in which William Faversham plans the ruin of Viola Allen, the leading woman.

"Well," said Mrs. Dazian, "if New York will stand for that it will stand for anything."

Frohman jumped up in excitement. "What is wrong with it?" he cried. "The manuscript was shown to a dozen people of the cleanest minds. They found nothing wrong. I've done the scene a dozen times. I have it up-stairs on my shelves at this moment in 'The Sporting Duchess.'"

Mrs. Dazian was obdurate. "It is awful," she said.

The first night approached. Potter was to sail for Europe next day. Frohman had provided him with sumptuous cabin quarters on the _New York_. After the dress rehearsal, Potter appeared on the Empire stage, where he found Frohman. The latter was worried.

"Paul," said he, "the first three acts are fine; the last is rotten. You must stay and rewrite the last act."

Potter had to postpone his trip. At ten next morning the new act was handed in; the company learned and rehearsed it by three in the afternoon, and that night Frohman and the author stood in the box-office watching the audience file in.

"How's the house, Tommy?" demanded Frohman of Thomas Shea, his house manager.

"Over seventeen hundred dollars already," said Shea.

"You can go to Europe, Paul," said Frohman. "Your last act is all right. We don't want you any more."

The American public agreed with Mrs. Dazian. They thought the play excruciatingly wicked, but they were just as eager to see it on the Fourth of July as they had been six months earlier.

A dozen details combined to make "The Conquerors" a storm-center. First of all it was attacked because of its alleged immorality. In the second place the author was charged with having appropriated some of Sardou's "La Haine." In the third place, this play marked the first stage appearance of Mrs. Clara Bloodgood, wife of "Jack" Bloodgood, one of the best-known men about town in New York. Mr. Bloodgood became desperately ill during rehearsals, and his wife divided her time between watching at his bedside and going to the theater. Of course, the newspapers were filled with the account of the event which was agitating all society, and it added greatly to popular interest in the play.

"The Conquerors" not only brought Paul Potter and Frohman a great success, but it sped William Faversham on to the time when he was to become a star. The cast was one of the most distinguished that Frohman had ever assembled, and it included among its women five future stars--Viola Allen, Blanche Walsh, Ida Conquest, Clara Bloodgood, and May Robson.

* * *

By this time Henry Miller had left the Empire Stock Company and had gone on the road with a play called "Heartsease," by Charles Klein and J. I. C. Clark. It failed in Cincinnati, and Miller wrote Frohman about it. A week later the men met on Broadway. Miller still believed in "Heartsease" and asked Frohman if he could read it to him.

"All right," replied Frohman; "come to-morrow and let me hear it."

Miller showed up the next morning and left Klein and Clark, who had accompanied him, in a lower office. Frohman locked the door, as was his custom, curled himself up on a settee, lighted a cigar, and asked for the manuscript.

"I didn't bring it. I will act it out for you."

Miller knew the whole production of the play depended upon his performance. He improvised whole scenes and speeches as he went along, and he made a deep impression. When he finished, Frohman sat still for a few moments. Then he rang a bell and Alf Hayman appeared. To him he said, quietly:

"We are going to do 'Heartsease.'"

Miller rushed down-stairs to where Klein and Clark were waiting, and told them to get to work revising the manuscript.

When the play went into rehearsal, Frohman, who sat in front, spoke to Miller from time to time, asking, "Where is that line you spoke in my office?"

This incident is cited to show Charles's amazing memory. Miller, of course, had improvised constantly during his personal performance of the play, and Frohman recognized that these improvisations were missing when the piece came into rehearsal.

Charles now added a third star to his constellation in Henry Miller. He first produced "Heartsease" in New Haven. Charles Dillingham sat with him during the performance. When the curtain went down on a big scene, and the audience was in a tumult, demanding star and author, Frohman leaned over to speak to his friend. Dillingham thought he was about to make a historic remark, inspired by the enormous success of the play before him. Instead, Frohman whispered:

"Charley, I wonder if they have any more of that famous apple-pie over at Hueblein's?"

He was referring to a famous article of food that had added almost as much glory to New Haven as had its historic university, and for which Frohman had an inordinate love.

Henry Miller now became an established Frohman star. After "Heartsease" had had several successful road seasons, Frohman presented Miller in "The Only Way," an impressive dramatization of Charles Dickens's great story, "A Tale of Two Cities."

* * *

Charles Dillingham's friendship with Frohman had now become one of the closest of his life. He always accompanied Frohman to England, and was regarded as his right-hand man. Frohman had always urged his friend to branch out for himself. The result was that Dillingham assumed the managership of Julia Marlowe.

Dillingham presented Miss Marlowe at the Knickerbocker Theater in New York in "The Countess Valeska." Frohman liked the play so much that he became interested in the management of Miss Marlowe, and together they produced "Colinette," adapted from the French by Henry Guy Carleton, at this theater. "Colinette" inspired one of the many examples of Frohman's quick retort.

The "try-out" was at Bridgeport, and Dillingham had engaged a private chair car for the company. When Frohman tried to get on this car at Grand Central Station the porter turned him down, saying:

"This is the Marlowe car."

Whereupon Frohman spoke up quickly and said: "I am Mr. Marlowe," and stepped aboard.

The production of "Colinette" marked the beginning of another one of Frohman's intimate associations. He engaged William Seymour to rehearse and produce the play. Seymour later directed some of the greatest Frohman undertakings and eventually became general stage-manager for his chief. Frohman was now actively interested in Miss Marlowe's career. Under the joint Frohman-Dillingham management she played in "As You Like It" and "Ingomar."

By this time Clyde Fitch had steadily made his way to the point where Frohman had ceased to regard him as a "pink tea" author, but as a really big playwright. They became great friends. He gave Fitch every possible encouragement. The time was at hand when Fitch was to reward that encouragement, and in splendid fashion.

Once more the Civil War proved a Charles Frohman mascot, for Fitch now wrote "Barbara Fritchie," founded on John G. Whittier's famous war poem. He surrounded the star with a cast that included W. J. Lemoyne, Arnold Daly, Dodson Mitchel, and J. H. Gilmour. The play opened at the Broad Street Theater in Philadelphia. At the dress rehearsal began an incident which showed Charles's ready resource.

In the second act the business of the play required that Miss Marlowe take a gun and shoot a man. No gun was at hand. It was decided to send the late Byron Ongley, assistant stage-manager of the company, to the Stratford Hotel, where the star lived, with a gun and show her how to use it there.

When Frohman, who came to see the rehearsal, heard of this he had an inspiration for a fine piece of publicity.

"Why can't Ongley pretend to be a crank and appear to be making an attempt on Miss Marlowe's life?"

He liked Ongley, and he really conceived the idea more to play one of his numerous practical jokes than to capitalize the event.

Without saying a word to Ongley, Dillingham notified the Stratford management that Miss Marlowe had received a threatening letter from a crank who might possibly appear and make an attempt on her life. When Ongley entered the hotel lobby innocently carrying the gun he was beset by four huge porters and borne to the ground. The police were summoned and he was hauled off to jail, where he spent twenty-four hours. The newspapers made great capital of the event, and it stimulated interest in the performance.

When "Barbara Fritchie" opened at the Criterion Theater in New York, which had passed under the Frohman control, it scored an immediate success. It ran for four months. Not only was Miss Marlowe put into the front rank of paying stars, but the success of the play gave Clyde Fitch an enormous prestige, for it was his first big triumph as an original playwright. From this time on his interest was closely linked with that of Charles Frohman, who became his sponsor.

In connection with Julia Marlowe is a characteristic Frohman story. The manager always refused to accept the new relation when one of his women stars married. This incident grew out of Julia Marlowe's marriage to Robert Taber.

One day his office-boy brought in word that Mrs. Taber would like to see him.

"I don't know her."

After an interval of a few moments a dulcet voice came through the door, saying, "Won't you see me?"

"Who are you?"

"Mrs. Taber."

"I don't know Mrs. Taber, but Julia Marlowe can come in."

* * *

Charles was now in a whirlwind of activities. He was not only making stars, but also, as the case of Clyde Fitch proved, developing playwrights. In the latter connection he had a peculiar distinction.

One day some years before, Madeline Lucette Ryley came to see him. She was a charming English _ingenue_ who had been a singing soubrette in musical comedies at the famous old Casino, the home of musical comedies, where Francis Wilson, De Wolf Hopper, Jefferson De Angelis, and Pauline Hall had achieved fame as comic-opera stars. She had also appeared in a number of serious plays.

Mrs. Ryley made application for a position. Frohman said to her:

"I don't need actresses, but I need plays. Go home and write me one."

Mrs. Ryley up to that time had written plays only as an amateur. She went home and wrote "Christopher Jr." and it started her on a notably successful career as a playwright. In fact, she was perhaps the first of the really successful women playwrights.

* * *

Charles Frohman celebrated the opening theatrical season of the new twentieth century by annexing a new star and a fortune at the same time. It was William H. Crane in "David Harum" who accomplished this.

Again history repeated itself in a picturesque approach to a Frohman success. One morning, at the time when both had apartments at Sherry's, Frohman and Charles Dillingham emerged from the building after breakfast. On the sidewalk they met Denman Thompson, the old actor. Frohman engaged him in conversation. Suddenly Thompson began to chuckle.

"What are you laughing at?" asked Frohman.

"I was thinking of a book I read last night, called 'David Harum,'" replied Thompson.

"Was it interesting?"

"The best American story I ever read," said the actor.

Frohman's eyes suddenly sparkled. He winked at Dillingham, who hailed a cab and made off. Frohman engaged Thompson in conversation until he returned. In his pocket he carried a copy of "David Harum."

Frohman read the book that day, made a contract for its dramatization, and from the venture he cleared nearly half a million dollars.

Frohman considered four men for the part of _David Harum_. They were Denman Thompson, James A. Hearne, Sol Smith Russell, and Crane. Thompson was too old, Hearne had been associated too long with the "Shore Acres" type to adapt himself to the Westcott hero, and Sol Smith Russell did not meet the requirements. Frohman regarded Crane as ideal.

His negotiations with Crane for this part were typical of his business arrangements. It took exactly five minutes to discuss them. When the terms had been agreed upon, Frohman said to Crane:

"Are you sure this is perfectly satisfactory to you?"

"Perfectly," replied Crane.

Frohman reached over from his desk and shook his new star by the hand. It was his way of ratifying a contract that was never put on paper, and over which no word of disagreement ever arose. Crane's connection with Charles Frohman lasted for nine years.

Frohman personally rehearsed "David Harum." Much of its extraordinary success was due to his marvelous energy. It was Frohman, and not the dramatist, who introduced the rain-storm scene at the close of the second act which made one of the biggest hits of the performance. Throughout the play there were many evidences of Frohman's skill and craftsmanship.

* * *

It was just about this time that the real kinship with Augustus Thomas began. Frohman, after his first meeting with Thomas years before in the box-office of a St. Louis theater, had produced his play "Surrender," and had engaged him to remodel "Sue." Now he committed the first of the amazing quartet of errors of judgment with regard to the Thomas plays that forms one of the curious chapters in his friendship with this distinguished American playwright.

Thomas had conceived the idea of a cycle of American plays, based on the attitude toward women in certain sections of the country. The first of these plays had been "Alabama," the second "In Mizzoura." Thomas now wrote "Arizona" in this series. When he offered the play to Frohman, the manager said:

"I like this play, Gus, but I have one serious objection to it. I don't see any big situation to use the American flag. Perhaps I am superstitious about it. I have had such immense luck with the flag in 'Shenandoah' and 'Held by the Enemy' that I have an instinct that I ought not to do this play, much as I would like to."

As everybody knows, the play went elsewhere and was one of the great successes of the American stage.

Frohman now realized his mistake. He sent for Thomas and said: "I want you to write me another one of those rough plays."

The result was "Colorado," which Frohman put on at the Grand Opera House in New York with Wilton Lackaye in the leading role, but it was not a success.

A few years later Frohman made another of the now famous mistakes with Thomas. Thomas had seen Lawrence D'Orsay doing his usual "silly ass" part in a play. He also observed that the play lagged unless D'Orsay was on the stage. He therefore wrote a play called "The Earl of Pawtucket," with D'Orsay in mind, and Frohman accepted it. When the time came to select the cast, Thomas suggested D'Orsay for the leading part.

"Impossible!" said Frohman. "He can't do it."

Thomas was so convinced that D'Orsay was the ideal man that Frohman made this characteristic concession:

"I think well of your play, and it will probably be a success," he said, "but I do not believe that D'Orsay is the man for it. If you can get another manager to do it I will turn back the play to you, and if you insist upon having D'Orsay I will release him from his contract with me."

Kirk La Shelle took the play and it was another "Arizona."

Frohman produced a whole series of Thomas successes, notably "The Other Girl," "Mrs. Leffingwell's Boots," and "De Lancey." To the end of his days the warmest and most intimate friendship existed between the men. It was marked by the usual humor that characterized Frohman's relations. Here is an example:

Thomas conducted the rehearsals of "The Other Girl" alone. Frohman, who was up-stairs in his offices at the Empire, sent him a note on a yellow pad, written with the blue pencil that he always used:

"How are you getting along at rehearsals without me?"

"Great!" scribbled Thomas.

The next day when he went up-stairs to Frohman's office, he found the note pinned on the wall.

Such was the mood of the man who had risen from obscurity to one of commanding authority in the whole English-speaking theater.

X

THE RISE OF ETHEL BARRYMORE