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Updated: May 26, 2025
So it did," said Handy, "but we lost money on that venture. There's nothing in these big companies. Small, compact, but strong utility companies win every time. Charley Frohman will tell you the same thing." "Seven is none too many for our work, Handy." "No. It's about the proper figure. With judicious and intelligent doubling, a good manager might tackle almost anything.
It was advertised by a single bill in front of the Haymarket Theater and the price of admission was five guineas. We took in fifteen guineas, the audience being Charley Frohman, Lady Craig and a man. Cyril Maude played the hero and Brandon Thomas and Barrie the two low comedy parts two Scotchmen of Thrums.
If these productions had conformed to their titles sincerely, with the highest photoplay art we would have had two more examples for this chapter. Why do the people love Mary? Not on account of the Daniel Frohman style of handling her appearances.
"I swear to God if Max don't give me twenty lines in the next, I'll go on to New York," said a Miss Connie Girard dispassionately. "There's a party I know there rents a house that Frohman owns, and he'd give me a letter. What I want is a Broadway success."
I started to play one of them, but as I insisted on making it an aged negro with songs, Barrie and Frohman got discouraged and let me play the villain, Lord Rintoul, in which character I was great. Maude played his part in five different ways and dialects so as to see which he liked best, he said. It was a bit confusing. Maude pretended not to know who he was and it fooled everybody. Mrs.
Yvette Guilbert is at Hammerstein's and crowds the new music hall nightly, at two dollars a seat. Irving and Miss Terry have been most friendly to me and to the family. Frohman is going to put "Zenda" on in New York because he has played a failure, which will of course kill it for next year for Eddie, when he comes out as a star. I have never seen such general indignation over a private affair.
He told them just what Maude Adams and Ethel Barrymore were like, and Julia Marlowe, and Elsie Ferguson, and Chrystal Herne, and all the rest of them. He spoke familiarly of Mr. Faversham as "Favvy," of Mr. Collier as "Willie," of Mr. Sothern as "Ned," of Mr. Drew as "John," of Mr. Skinner as "Otis," of Mr. Frohman as "Dan."
All is not gold that glitters, but it is a wise child that keeps the stopper in his bottle of testing acid. Where Broadway skirts the corner of the square presided over by George the Veracious is the Little Rialto. Here stand the actors of that quarter, and this is their shibboleth: "'Nit, says I to Frohman, 'you can't touch me for a kopeck less than two-fifty per, and out I walks."
They tuck 'em in trays of trunks, trunks of trees, desks, haymows, pigeonholes, inside pockets, safe-deposit vaults, handboxes, and coal cellars, waiting for Mr. Frohman to call. They belong among the fifty-seven different kinds. But Bob Hart's sketch was not destined to end in a pickle jar. He called it "Mice Will Play."
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