Along toward the middle of 1883 there were signs of a break at the Madison Square Theater. Steele Mackaye had quarreled with the Mallorys and had left, taking Gustave with him to launch the new Lyceum Theater on Fourth Avenue and Twenty-third Street. Daniel was becoming ambitious to strike out for himself, while Charles was chafing under the necessity of being a subordinate. He yearned to be his own master. "I must have a New York production," he said. The wish in his case meant the deed, for he now set about to produce his first play.
Naturally, he turned to Belasco for advice and co-operation. Both were still identified with the Madison Square Theater, which made their negotiations easy.
In San Francisco Charles had seen a vivid melodrama called "The Stranglers of Paris," which Belasco had written from Adolphe Belot's story and produced with some success. Osmond Tearle, then leading man for Lester Wallack and New York's leading matinée idol, had played in the West the part of Jagon, who was physically one of the ugliest characters in the play.
"'The Stranglers of Paris' is the play for me," said Frohman to Belasco.
"All right," said David; "you shall have it."
The original dramatization was a melodrama without a spark of humor. In rewriting it for New York, Belasco injected considerable comedy here and there.
Frohman, whose vision and ideas were always big, said:
"We've got to get a great cast. I will not be satisfied with anybody but Tearle."
To secure Tearle, Frohman went to see Lester Wallack for the first time. Wallack was then the enthroned theatrical king and one of the most inaccessible of men. Frohman finally contrived to see him and made the proposition for the release of Tearle. Ordinarily Wallack would have treated such an offer with scorn. Frohman's convincing manner, however, led him to explain, for he said:
"Mr. Tearle is the handsomest man in New York, and if I loaned him to you to play the ugliest man ever put on the stage he would lose his drawing power for me. I am sorry I can't accommodate you, Mr. Frohman. Come and see me again."
Out of that meeting came a friendship with Lester Wallack that developed large activities for Charles, as will be seen later on.
Unable to get Tearle, Belasco and Frohman secured Henry Lee, a brilliant and dashing leading actor who had succeeded Eben Plympton in the cast of "Hazel Kirke." The leading woman was Agnes Booth, a well-known stage figure. She was the sister-in-law of Edwin Booth, and an actress of splendid quality.
Unfortunately for him, the leading theaters were all occupied. There were only a few playhouses in New York then, a mere handful compared with the enormous number to-day. But a little thing like that did not disturb Charles Frohman.
Up at the northwest corner of Thirty-fifth Street and Broadway was an old barnlike structure that had been successively aquarium, menagerie, and skating-rink. It had a roof and four walls and at one end there was a rude stage.
One night at midnight Charles, accompanied by Belasco, went up to look at the sorry spectacle. As a theater it was about the most unpromising structure in New York.
"This is all I can get, David," said Charles, "and it must do."
"But, Charley, it is not a theater," said Belasco.
"Never mind," said Frohman. "I will have it made into one."
The old building was under the control of Hyde & Behman, who were planning to convert it into a vaudeville house. Frohman went to see them and persuaded them to turn it into a legitimate theater. Just about this time the Booth Theater at Twenty-third Street and Sixth Avenue was about to be torn down. Under Charles's prompting Hyde & Behman bought the inside of that historic structure, proscenium arch, stage, boxes, and all, and transported them to the Thirty-fifth Street barn. What had been a bare hall became the New Park Theater, destined to go down in history as the playhouse that witnessed many important productions, as well as the first that Charles Frohman made on any stage. Years afterward this theater was renamed the Herald Square.
Charles Frohman now had a play, a theater, and a cast. With characteristic lavishness he said to Belasco:
"We must have the finest scenic production ever made in New York."
He had no capital, but he had no trouble in getting credit. Every one seemed willing to help him. He got out handsome printing and advertised extensively. He spared nothing in scenic effects, which were elaborate. He devoted every spare moment to attending rehearsals.
Among the supernumeraries was a fat boy with a comical face. At one of the rehearsals he sat in a boat and reached out for something. In doing this he fell overboard. He fell so comically that Belasco made his fall a part of the regular business. His ability got him a few lines, which were taken from another actor. This fat-faced, comical boy was John Bunny, who became the best-known moving-picture star in the United States, and who to the end of his days never forgot that he appeared in Charles Frohman's first production. He often spoke of it with pride.
The autumn of 1883 was a strenuous one, for Charles had staked a good deal on "The Stranglers of Paris." Yet when the curtain rose on the evening of November 10, 1883, he was the same smiling, eager, but imperturbable boy who years before had uttered the wish that some day he would put on a play himself in the great city. He now saw that dream come true. He was just twenty-three.
"The Stranglers of Paris" made quite a sensation. The scenic effects were highly praised, and especially the ship scene, which showed convicts in their cages, their revolt, the sinking of the vessel, Jagon's struggle in the water, his escape from death, and his dramatic appeal to Heaven. Lee scored a great success and dated his popularity from this appearance.
Many of the lines in the piece were widely quoted, one of them in particular. It was in substance, "Money has power to open prison gates, and no questions asked."
It was the time of sensational graft revelations, and theater-goers thought that it fitted the New York situation.
"The Stranglers of Paris" ran at the New Park Theater until December 9, when it was taken on the road. It continued on tour for a considerable period, playing most of the principal cities of the East, but the production was so expensive that it made no money. In fact, Charles lost on the enterprise, but it did not in the least dash his spirits. He was supremely content because at last he had produced a play.
Charles Frohman: Manager and Man · The Wunder Library — complete classics, free to read, with narration.