Chapter 16

In presenting Clara Bloodgood as star in Clyde Fitch's play "The Girl with the Green Eyes," Frohman achieved another one of his many sensations. The smart, charming girl who had made her debut under sensational circumstances in "The Conquerors," now saw her name up in electric lights for the first time. Frohman's confidence in her, as in many of his proteges, was more than fulfilled.

* * *

Charles Frohman, who loved to dazzle the world with his Napoleonic coups, launched what was up to this time, and which will long remain, the most spectacular of theatrical deals. He greatly admired E. H. Sothern, who had been associated with him in some of his early ventures. The years that Julia Marlowe had played under his joint management had endeared her to him. One day he had an inspiration. There had been no big Shakespearian revival for some time, so he said:

"Why not unite Sothern and Marlowe and tour the country in a series of magnificent Shakespearian productions?"

At that time Julia Marlowe had reverted to the control of Charles Dillingham, while Sothern was still under the management of Daniel Frohman. Charles now brought the stars together, offered them a guarantee of $5,000 a week for a forty weeks' engagement and for three seasons. In other words, he pledged these two stars the immense sum of $200,000 for each season, which was beyond doubt the largest guarantee of the kind ever made in the history of the American theater.

It was just about this time that Joseph Humphreys, Frohman's seasoned general stage-manager, succumbed to the terrific strain under which he had worked all these years, as both actor and producer. William Seymour stepped into his shoes, and has retained that position ever since.

Charles was constantly bringing about revolutions. Through him Francis Wilson, for example, departed from musical comedy, in which he had made a great success, and took up straight plays. He began with Clyde Fitch's French adaptation of "Cousin Billy," and thus commenced a connection under Charles Frohman that lasted many years. With him, as with all his other stars, there was never a scrap of paper.

Frohman and Wilson met at the Savoy Hotel in London one day. Frohman had often urged him to quit musical comedy, and he now said he was ready to make the plunge.

"All right," said Frohman. "I will give you so much a week and a percentage of the profits."

"It's done," said Wilson.

"Do you want a contract?" asked Frohman.

"No."

This was about all that ever happened in the way of arrangements between Frohman and his stars, to some of whom he paid fortunes.

During these years Charles had watched with growing interest the development of a young girl from Bloomington, Illinois, Margaret Illington by name. She had appeared successfully in the old Lyceum Stock Company when it was transferred by Daniel Frohman to Daly's, and had played with James K. Hackett and E. H. Sothern. Charles now cast her in Pinero's play "A Wife Without a Smile." Afterward she appeared in Augustus Thomas's piece "Mrs. Leffingwell's Boots," and made such a strong impression that Frohman made her leading woman with John Drew in Pinero's "His House in Order."

Just about this time Charles, whose interest in French plays had constantly increased through the years, singled out Henri Bernstein as the foremost of the younger French playwrights. He secured his remarkable play "The Thief" for America. He now produced this play at the Lyceum with Miss Illington and Kyrle Bellew as co-stars, and it proved to be an enormous success, continuing there for a whole season, and then duplicating its triumph on the road, where Frohman at one time had four companies playing it in various parts of the country.

XI

THE CONQUEST OF THE LONDON STAGE

Great as were Charles Frohman's achievements in America, they were more than matched in many respects by his activities in England. He was the one American manager who made an impress on the British drama; he led the so-called "American invasion." As a matter of fact, he _was_ the invasion. No phase of his fascinatingly crowded and adventurous career reflects so much of the genius of the man, or reveals so many of his finer qualities, as his costly attempt to corner the British stage. Here, as in no other work, he showed himself in really Napoleonic proportions.

Behind Charles's tremendous operations in London were three definite motives. First of all, he really loved England. He felt that the theater there had a dignity and a distinction far removed from theatrical production in America. There was no sneer of "commercialism" about it. To be identified with the stage in England was something to be proud of. He often said that he would rather make fifteen pounds in London than fifteen thousand dollars in America. It summed up his whole attitude toward the theater in Great Britain.

In the second place, he knew that a strong footing in England was absolutely necessary to a mastery of the situation in America. Just as important as any of his other reasons was the conviction in his own mind that to produce the best English-speaking plays in the United States he must know English playwrights and English authors on their own ground, and to produce, if possible, their own works on their home stages.

This latter desire led him to the long and brilliant series of productions that he made in London, and which amounted to what later became an almost complete monopoly on British dramatic output for the United States.

The net result was that he became a sort of Colossus of the English-speaking theater. Figuratively, he stood astride the mighty sea in which he was to meet his death, with one foot planted securely in England and the other in New York.

* * *

Charles's first visits to England were made in the most unostentatious way, largely to look over the ground and see what he could pick up for America. His first offices in Henrietta Street were very modest rooms. Unpretentious as they were, they represented a somewhat historic step, because Frohman was absolutely the first American manager to set up a business in England. Augustin Daly had taken over a company, but he allied himself in no general way with British theatrical interests.

When Frohman first engaged W. Lestocq as his English manager, as has already been recorded, he made a significant remark:

"You know I am coming into London to produce plays. But I am coming in by the back door. I shall get to the front door, however, and you shall come with me."

No sooner had he set foot in London than his productive activities were turned loose. With A. and S. Gatti he put on one of his New York successes, "The Lost Paradise," at the Adelphi Theater. In this instance he merely furnished the play. It failed, however. Far from discouraging Frohman, it only filled him with a desire to do something big.

This play marked the beginning of one of his most important English connections. The Gattis, as they were known in England, were prominent figures in the British theater. They were Swiss-Italians who had begun life in England as waiters, had established a small eating-house, and had risen to become the most important restaurateurs of the British capital. They became large realty-owners, spread out to the theater, and acquired the Adelphi and the Vaudeville.

Charles Frohman's arrangement with them was typical of all his business transactions. Some years afterward a well-known English playwright asked Stephen Gatti:

"What is your contract with Frohman?"

"We have none. When we want an agreement from Charles Frohman about a business transaction it is time to stop," was his reply.

With the production of a French farce called "A Night Out," which was done at the Vaudeville Theater in 1896, Frohman began his long and intimate association with George Edwardes. This man's name was synonymous with musical comedy throughout the amusement world. As managing director of the London Gaiety Theater, the most famous musical theater anywhere, he occupied a unique position. Charles was the principal American importer of the Gaiety shows, and through this and various other connections he had much to do with Edwardes.

Frohman and Edwardes were the joint producers of "A Night Out," and it brought to Charles his first taste of London success. This was the only play in London in which he ever sold his interest. Out of this sale grew a curious example of Frohman's disregard of money. For his share he received a check of four figures. He carried it around in his pocket for weeks. After it had become all crumpled up, Lestocq persuaded him to deposit it in the bank. Only when the check was almost reduced to shreds did he consent to open an account with it.

* * *

It remained for an American play, presenting an American star, to give Charles his first real triumph in London. With the production of "Secret Service," in 1897, at the Adelphi Theater, he became the real envoy from the New World of plays to the Old. It was an ambassadorship that gave him an infinite pride, for it brought fame and fortune to the American playwright and the American actor abroad. Frohman's envoyship was as advantageous to England as it was to the United States, because he was the instrument through which the best of the modern English plays and the most brilliant of the modern English actors found their hearing on this side of the water.

Frohman was immensely interested in the English production of "Secret Service." Gillette himself headed the company. Both he and Frohman were in a great state of expectancy. The play hung fire until the third act. When the big scene came British reserve melted and there was a great ovation. It was an immediate success and had a long run.

One feature of the play that amused the critics and theater-goers generally in London was the fact that the spy in "Secret Service," who was supposed to be the bad man of the play, received all the sympathy and the applause, while the hero was arrested and always had the worst of it, even when he was denouncing the spy. Gillette's quiet but forceful style of acting was a revelation to the Londoners.

It was during this engagement that an intimate friend said to Terriss, the great English actor who was distinguished for his impulsiveness:

"Chain yourself to a seat at the Adelphi some night and learn artistic repose from Gillette."

Concerning the first night of "Secret Service" is another one of the many Frohman stories. When a London newspaper man asked the American manager about the magnificent celebration that he was sure had been held to commemorate Gillette's triumph, Frohman said:

"There was nothing of the sort. Mr. Dillingham, my manager, and I joined Mr. Gillette in his rooms at the Savoy. We had some sandwiches and wine and then played 'hearts' for several hours."

This episode inspired Frohman to give utterance to what was the very key-note of his philosophy about an actor and his work. Talking with a friend in England shortly after the opening of "Secret Service," about the modest way in which Gillette regarded his success, he said:

"Nothing so kills the healthy growth of an actor and brings his usefulness to an end so soon, as the idea that social enjoyment is a means to public success, and that industrious labor to improve himself is no longer necessary."

Frohman always regarded the success of "Secret Service" as the corner-stone of his great achievements in England. Once, in speaking of this star's hit, he said:

"You know, what tickles me is the fact that it was left for England to discover that Gillette is a great actor. It's one on America."

* * *

A few years later, Frohman made his first Paris production with "Secret Service." The masterful little man always regarded the world as his field; hence the annexation of Paris. He had a version made by Paul de Decourcelle, and the play was put on at the Renaissance Theater. Guitry, the great French actor, played Gillette's part. A very brilliant audience saw the opening performance, but the French did not get the atmosphere of the play. They could not determine whether it was serious or comic. The character of _General Nelson_ was almost entirely omitted in the play because the actors themselves could not tell whether it was humor or tragedy. Besides, the French actors wanted to do it their own way.

Dillingham, who had charge of the production in Paris, realizing on the opening night that it would be a failure, and knowing that he had to send Frohman some sort of telegram, cabled, with his customary humor, the following:

_The tomb of Napoleon looks beautiful in the moonlight._

As was the case in England, Charles was the only American manager who made any impression upon the French drama. From his earliest producing days he had a weakness for producing adapted French plays. From France came some of his hugest successes, especially those of Bernstein. He "bulled" the French market on prices. The French playwright hailed him with joy, for he always left a small fortune behind him.

Having established a precedent with Gillette, he now presented his first American woman star in England. It was Annie Russell in Bret Harte's story "Sue." He was very fond of this play, having already produced it in the United States, and he was very proud of the impression that Miss Russell made in London.

* * *

Up to this time Frohman had made his English productions in conjunction with the Gattis or George Edwardes at the Adelphi, the Vaudeville, or the Garrick theaters. This would have satisfied most people. But Frohman, who wanted to do things in a big way, naturally desired his own English theater, where he could unfurl his own banner and do as he pleased.

Early in 1897, therefore, he took what was up to that time his biggest English step, for he leased the Duke of York's Theater for nineteen years. His name went over the doorway and from that time on this theater was the very nerve-center, if not the soul, of Charles Frohman's English operations. It was one of the best known and the most substantial of British playhouses, located in St. Martin's Lane, in the very heart of the theatrical district. He took a vast pride in his control of it. He even emblazoned the announcement of his London management on the walls of the Empire on Broadway in New York. In his affections it was in England what the Empire was to him in America. It was destined to be the background of his distinguished artistic endeavors, perhaps the most distinguished.

Charles now embarked on a sea of lavish productions. Typical of his attitude was his employment of the best-known and highest-salaried producer in London. This man was Dion Boucicault, son of the famous playwright of the same name, who was himself a very finished and versatile actor. He gave the Frohman productions a touch of genuine distinction, and his wife, the accomplished Irene Vanbrugh, added much to the attractiveness of the Frohman ventures.

The Frohman sponsorship of the Duke of York's was celebrated with a magnificent production of Anthony Hope's "The Adventure of Lady Ursula," which had been a success in New York with E. H. Sothern. It ran the entire season. The play was put on in the usual Frohman way, so much so that the British critics said that "the production, from first to last, was correct down to a coat-button."

Until the end of his life the Duke of York's Theater had a large place in his heart. At the back of private box F, which was his own box, and which was also used for royalty when it visited the play, was a comfortable retiring-room, charmingly decorated in red. Here Frohman loved to sit and entertain his friends, especially such close intimates as Sir James M. Barrie, Haddon Chambers, Sir Arthur Pinero, Henry Arthur Jones, Michael Morton, and other English playwrights.

These busy days at the Duke of York's furnished Frohman with many amusing episodes. On one occasion he was caught in the self-operating elevator of the theater and was kept a prisoner in it for over an hour. His employees were in consternation. When he was finally extricated they began to apologize most profusely.

"Nonsense!" said Frohman. "I am glad I got stuck. It's the first vacation I have had in two years."

The lobby of the Duke of York's illustrates one of Charles's distinctive ideas. Instead of ornamenting it with pictures of dead dramatic heroes like Shakespeare and Garrick, he filled it with photographs of his live American stars. The English theater-goers who went there saw huge portraits of Maude Adams, Ethel Barrymore, Marie Doro, John Drew, Otis Skinner, and William Gillette.

On one occasion he was held up at the entrance of the Duke of York's by a new doorkeeper who asked for his ticket.

"I am Frohman," said the manager.

"Can't help it, sir; you've got to have a ticket."

"You're quite right," said Frohman, who went to the box-office and bought himself a stall seat. When the house-manager, James W. Matthews, threatened to discharge the doorkeeper, Frohman said:

"Certainly not. The man was obeying orders. If he had done otherwise you should have discharged him."

Frohman so loved the Duke of York's that he would go back to it and witness the same play twenty times. During his last visit to England, when his right knee was troubling him, he telephoned down one night to have his box reserved. Matthews, to spare him any trouble, had a little platform built so that he would not have to walk up the steps. Two weeks later, Frohman again telephoned that he wanted the box held, and added:

"I am better now. Don't bother to build a theater for me."

Curiously enough, the first failure that Charles had at the Duke of York's was "The Christian," which had scored such an enormous success in America. But failure only spurred him on to further efforts. When an English friend condoled with him about his loss on this occasion he said:

"Forget it. Don't let's revive the past. Let's get busy and pulverize the future."

* * *

To the average mind the extent of Frohman's London productions is amazing. When the simple fact is stated that he made one hundred and twenty-five of these, one obtains at a glance the immense scope of the man's operations there. Many of them stand out brilliantly. Early among them was the Frohman-Belasco presentation of Mrs. Leslie Carter in two of her greatest successes at the Garrick Theater.

The first was "The Heart of Maryland." It was during this engagement that Charles bought the English rights to "Zaza," then a sensational success in Paris. It was his original intention to star Julia Marlowe in this play. When Belasco heard of the play he immediately saw it was an ideal vehicle for Mrs. Carter, and Frohman generously turned it over to him. After its great triumph in the United States, Frohman and Belasco produced "Zaza" in London.

It was a huge success and made the kind of sensation in which Frohman delighted. There was much question as to its propriety, so much so that the Lord Chamberlain himself, who supervised the censorship, came and witnessed the performance. He made no objection, however.

An amusing incident, which shows the extraordinary devotion of Charles Frohman's friends, occurred on the first night. While attending the rehearsals at the Garrick, Frohman caught cold and went to bed with a slight attack of pneumonia. On the inaugural night he lay bedridden. He was so eager for news of the play that he said to Dillingham:

"Send me all the news you can."

Dillingham organized a bicycle service, and every fifteen minutes sent encouraging and cheering bulletins to Frohman, who was so elated that he was able to emerge from bed the next morning a well man.

Now the interesting thing about this episode is that Dillingham fabricated most of the messages, because, until the end of the play and for several days thereafter, its success was very much in doubt. Indeed, it took more than a week for it to "catch on."

Charles followed up "Zaza" with a superb production of "Madame Butterfly," in which he used Belasco's beautiful equipment. This production put the artistic seal on Frohman's achievement as a London manager. Up to this time there were some who believed that, despite the lavishness of his policy, there was the germ of the commercial in him. "Madame Butterfly" removed this, but if there had been any doubt remaining, it would have been wiped out by his exquisite presentation of "The First Born." Associated with this play is a story that shows Frohman's dogged determination and resource.

Belasco had made the production of "The First Born" in America in lavish fashion. He brought to it all his love and knowledge of Chinese art.

A rival manager, W. A. Brady, wishing to emulate the success of "The First Born," got together a production of "The Cat and the Cherub," another Chinese play, and secured time in London, hoping to beat Frohman out. It now became a race between Frohman and Brady for the first presentation in London. Both managers were in America. Brady got his production off first. When Frohman heard of it he said:

"We must be in London first."

"But there are no sailings for a week," said one of his staff.

"Then we will hire a boat," was his retort.

However, there proved to be no need for this enterprise, because a regular sailing developed.

"The Cat and the Cherub" won the race across the Atlantic and was produced first. It took the edge off the novelty of "The First Born," which was a failure, but its fine quality gave Charles the premier place as an artistic producer in England, and he never regretted having made the attempt despite the loss.

Frohman became immersed in a multitude of things. In September, 1901, for example, he was interested in five English playhouses--the Aldwych, the Shaftesbury, the Vaudeville, and the Criterion, as well as the Duke of York's. He had five different plays going at the same time--"Sherlock Holmes," "Are You a Mason?" "Bluebell in Fairyland," "The Twin Sister," and "The Girl from Maxim's." This situation was typical of his English activities from that time until his death.

* * *

The picturesqueness of detail which seemed to mark the beginning of so many of Charles Frohman's personal and professional friendships attended him in England, as the case of his first experience with Edna May shows.

One hot night late in the summer season of 1900 Frohman was having supper alone on his little private balcony at the Savoy Hotel overlooking the Thames. It was before the Strand wing of the hostelry had been built. As he sat there, clad only in pajamas and smoking a large black cigar, he heard a terrific din on the street below. There was cheering, shouting, and clapping of hands. Summoning a waiter, he asked:

"What's all that noise about?"

"Oh, it's only Miss Edna May coming to supper, sir."

"Why all this fuss?" continued Frohman.

"Well, you see, sir," answered the servant, "they are bringing her back in triumph."

When Frohman made investigation he found that the doctors and nurses at the Middlesex Hospital in London, where Edna May frequently sang for the patients, had engaged the whole gallery of the Shaftesbury Theater where she was singing in "The American Beauty," and attended in a body. After the play they had surrounded her at the stage entrance, unhitched the horse from her little brougham, and hauled her through the streets to the Savoy.

This episode made a tremendous impression on Frohman. He was always drawn to the people who could create a stir. He had heard that Edna May was nearing the end of her contract with George Lederer, so he entered into negotiations with her, and that autumn she passed under his management and remained so until she retired in 1907.