"I've got a big sensation for Bath."

"What's that?" said the driver.

"We have Miss Cayvan as the leading lady," answered Frohman.

"Miss Who?" asked the driver.

"Miss Cayvan--Miss Georgia Cayvan, leading woman of the Madison Square Theater," answered Frohman, with a great flourish.

"Oh," replied the driver, "you mean our little Georgie. We heard tell that she was acting on the stage, and now I guess some folks will be right smart glad to see her."

Charles was so much interested in Miss Cayvan's appearance in her home town that he came back and joined the company on its arrival and was present at the station when Marc Klaw brought the company in.

Quite a delegation of home people were on hand to meet Miss Cayvan, and she immediately a.s.sumed the haughty airs of a prima donna.

Charles was much amused, and decided to "take her down" in an amiable way. So he stepped up to her with great solemnity, removed his hat, and said, after the manner of his old minstrel days:

"Miss Cayvan, we parade at eleven."

Miss Cayvan saw the humor of the situation, took the hint, and got down off her high horse. In the company with Miss Cayvan at that time were Maude Stuart, Charles Wheatleigh, Frank Burbeck, W. H. Crompton, and Mrs. E. L. Davenport, the mother of f.a.n.n.y Davenport.

* * *

While Charles was impressing his personality and talents at the Madison Square Theater and really finding himself for the first time, Gustave Frohman met Jack Haverly on the street one day. The old magnate said, with emphasis:

"Gus, I've got to have Charles back."

"You can't have him," said Gustave.

"But I must," said Haverly.

"Well, if you pay him one hundred and forty-six dollars a week (one hundred and twenty-five dollars salary and twenty-one dollars for hotel bills) you can have him for a limited time."

"All right," said Haverly.

Charles went back to the Mastodons, where he received a royal welcome.

But his heart had become attuned to the real theater--to the hum of its shifting life, to the swift tumult of its tears and laughter. The excitement of the drama, and all the speculation that it involved (and he was a born speculator), were in his blood. He heeded the call and went back to the Madison Square Theater.

But the minstrel field was to claim him again and for the last time.

Gustave conceived a plan to send the Callender Minstrels on a spectacular tour across the continent. The nucleus of the old organization, headed by the famous Billy Kersands, was playing in England under the name of Haverly's European Minstrels, Haverly having acquired the company some years before. Charles was sent over to get the pick of the Europeans for the new aggregation. Accompanied by Howard Spear, he sailed on June 7, 1882, on the _Wyoming_.

He encountered some difficulty in getting the leading members, so with characteristic enterprise he bought the whole company from Haverly and brought it back to the United States, where it was put on the road as Callender's Consolidated Spectacular Colored Minstrels. On all the bills appeared the inscription "Gustave and Charles Frohman, Proprietors." As a matter of fact, Charles had very little to do with the company, although he made a number of its contracts. His financial interest was trivial. Gustave used his name because Charles had been prominently a.s.sociated with the Mastodons and he had achieved some eminence as a minstrel promoter.

Having launched the Callender aggregation, he went on to Chicago, where Gustave was putting on David Belasco's play "American Born," with the author himself as producer. Charles joined his brother in promoting the enterprise.

Now began the real friendship between Charles Frohman and David Belasco.

The chance contact in San Francisco a few years before was now succeeded by a genuine introduction. The men took to each other instinctively and with a profound understanding. They shared the same room and had most of their meals together. Then, as throughout his whole life, Charles consumed large portions of pie (princ.i.p.ally apple, lemon meringue, and pumpkin) and drank large quant.i.ties of lemonade or sarsaparilla. One day while they were having lunch together Frohman said to Belasco:

"You and I must do things together. I mean to have my own theater in Broadway and you will write the plays for it."

"Very well," replied the ever-ready Belasco. "I will make a contract with you now."

"There will never be need of a contract between us," replied Frohman, who expressed then the conviction that guided him all the rest of his life when he engaged the greatest stars in the world and spent millions on productions without a sc.r.a.p of paper to show for the negotiation.

Charles worked manfully for "American Born." It was in reality his first intimate connection with a big production. At the outset his ingenuity saved the enterprise from threatened destruction. Harry Pet.i.t, a local manager, announced a rival melodrama called "Taken From Life" at McVicker's Theater, and had set his opening date one night before the inaugural of "American Born."

Charles scratched his head and said, "We must beat them to it."

He announced the "American Born" opening for a certain night and then opened three nights earlier, which beat the opposition by one night.

Belasco's play was spectacular in character and included, among other things, a realistic fire scene. When the time came for rehearsal the manager of the theater said that it could not be done, because the fire laws would be violated.

"I'll fix that," said Charles.

He went down to the City Hall, had a personal interview with the mayor, and not only got permission for the scene, but a detail of real firemen to act in it.

While in Chicago, Belasco accepted Daniel Frohman's offer to come to New York as stage-manager of the Madison Square Theater. Charles and Belasco came east together, and the intimacy of this trip tightened the bond between them. The train that carried them was speeding each to a great career.

With Belasco installed as stage-manager there began a daily contact between the two. Belasco went to Frohman with all his troubles. In Frohman's bedroom he wrote part of "May Blossom," in which he scored his first original success at the Madison Square. Charles was enormously interested in this play, and after it was finished carried a copy about in his pocket, reading it or having it read wherever he thought it could find a friendly ear.

So great was Belasco's grat.i.tude that he gave Charles a half-interest in it, which was probably the first ownership that Charles Frohman ever had in a play.

During those days at the Madison Square, when both Frohman and Belasco were seeing the vision of coming things, they often went at night to O'Neil's Oyster House on Sixth Avenue near Twenty-second Street. The day's work over, they had a bite of supper, in Frohman's case mostly pie and sarsaparilla, and talked about the things they were going to do.

Charles Frohman's ambition for a New York theater obsessed him. One night as they were walking up Broadway they pa.s.sed the Fifth Avenue Hotel. A big man in his shirt-sleeves sat tilted back in his chair in front of the hotel. The two young men were just across the street from him. Frohman stopped Belasco, pointed to the man, and said:

"David, there is John Stetson, manager of the Fifth Avenue Theater.

Well, some day I am going to be as big a man as he is and have my own theater on Broadway."

* * *

Those were crowded days. Charles not only picked and "routed" the companies, but he kept a watchful eye on them. This meant frequent traveling. For months he lived in a suit-case. At noon he would say to his stenographer, "We leave for Chicago this afternoon," and he was off in a few hours. At that time "Hazel Kirke," "The Professor,"

"Esmeralda," "Young Mrs. Winthrop," and "May Blossom" were all being played by road companies in various parts of the United States, and it was a tremendous task to keep a watchful eye on them. It was his habit to go to a town where a company was playing and not appear at the theater until the curtain had risen. The company had no warning of his coming, and he could make a good appraisal of their average work.

On one of the many trips that he made about this time he gave evidence of his constant humor.

He went out to Columbus, Ohio, to see a "Hazel Kirke" company. He arrived at the theater just before matinee, and as he started across the stage he was met by a newly appointed stage-manager who was full of authority.

"Where are you going?" asked the man.

"To Mr. Hagan's dressing-room."

"I'll take the message," said the stage-director.

"No, I want to see him personally."

"But you can't. I am in charge behind the curtain."

Frohman left without a word, went out to the box-office and wrote a letter, discharging the stage-director. Then he sat through the performance. Directly the curtain fell the man came to him in a great state of mind.