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Title: The Life of David Belasco; vol 2
Author: Winter, William
Language: English
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THE LIFE OF
DAVID BELASCO
VOLUME TWO
[Illustration]
“_I will not be slack to play_
_my part in Fortune’s pageant!_”
--Shakespeare
[Illustration: DAVID BELASCO
“_The natural successor of Lester Wallack, Edwin Booth and Augustin
Daly, as the leading theatrical manager of America._”--W. W.
From a portrait made for this Memoir
by Arnold Genthe, New York.
]
THE LIFE
OF
DAVID BELASCO
BY
WILLIAM WINTER
(1836-1917)
“He, being dead, yet speaketh.”
VOLUME TWO
NEW YORK
MOFFAT, YARD AND COMPANY
1918
COPYRIGHT, 1918, BY
JEFFERSON WINTER
_All Rights Reserved_
CONTENTS
THE LIFE OF DAVID BELASCO--VOLUME TWO
PAGE
“UNDER TWO FLAGS.”--BLANCHE BATES THE RISING
STAR 1
BELASCO AND DAVID WARFIELD:--THEIR FIRST
MEETING 6
WARFIELD AND “THE AUCTIONEER” 11
IN THE GRIP OF THE OCTOPUS.--ANCIENT METHODS
IN MODERN BUSINESS 16
TESTIMONY UNDER OATH.--BELASCO _VERSUS_ ERLANGER 20
LAW _VERSUS_ JUSTICE 23
A FAITHFUL FRIEND:--WARFIELD FOR BELASCO.--THE
END OF “THE AUCTIONEER” 24
TEMPERAMENTAL SYMPATHY.--EARLY READING:
“THE LOW SUN MAKES THE COLOR” 28
GENESIS OF BELASCO’S _DU BARRY_.--CHARACTER OF
THE HISTORIC ORIGINAL 31
A FANCIFUL FABRIC.--“DU BARRY” FIRST PRODUCED 34
RICHEPIN AND THE “DU BARRY” LAWSUIT 42
A GRACIOUS TRIBUTE.--“REMEMBER THAT WE
LOVED YOU” 45
THE THEATRIC _RICHMOND_ “LOOKS PROUDLY O’ER
THE CROWN” 47
A DANGEROUS ACCIDENT.--ALTERING THE REPUBLIC 52
THE FIRST BELASCO THEATRE 55
“AFTER THIRTY YEARS OF LABOR.”--BELASCO IN
HIS OWN THEATRE:--THE OPENING NIGHT 60
THE FIRST PROGRAMME 62
A STUPID DISPARAGEMENT.--INCEPTION OF “THE
DARLING OF THE GODS” 67
THE PLAY AND THE PERFORMANCE OF “THE DARLING
OF THE GODS” 73
THE CREATION OF DRAMATIC EFFECTS.--DIFFICULTIES
WITH THE RIVER OF SOULS 82
AN OPERATIC PROJECT.--PETTY PERSECUTIONS.--AN
ARREST FOR LIBEL 85
SECOND SEASON AT THE BELASCO.--A CONTEMPTIBLE
OUTRAGE 91
HENRIETTA CROSMAN AND “SWEET KITTY BELLAIRS” 94
SIDE-LIGHT AND COMMENTARY ON “SWEET KITTY” 103
A STRENUOUS YEAR 109
WARFIELD IN “THE MUSIC MASTER.”--AN ANIMATED
SPEECH 111
CONCERNING WARFIELD, JEFFERSON, THE ELDER
SOTHERN AND THE “ONE PART” CUSTOM.--AN
AMAZING RECORD 120
A SHEAF OF OLD LETTERS: IN THE MATTER OF THE
THEATRICAL SYNDICATE 126
METHODS OF COLLABORATION 132
MRS. CARTER AND THE TRAGEDY OF “ADREA” 136
BELASCO AND THE THEATRICAL SYNDICATE
JUSTICE AND THEATRICAL ACHIEVEMENT 150
BELASCO’S UNIQUE SERVICE TO THE THEATRE 151
WHAT ARE WE DISCUSSING? 153
THE SYNDICATE-INCUBUS DEFINED 154
SPECIOUS PRETENSIONS TO JUSTIFY THE INCUBUS 155
TENDENCY TO COMBINATION IN MODERN BUSINESS 157
CAUSES OF THEATRICAL PROGRESS 158
THE RIGHT PRINCIPLE 161
THE OBLIGATION OF INTELLECT 162
“THOSE SHALL TAKE WHO HAVE THE POWER” 167
DIVERGENT VIEWS OF THE SYNDICATE: GROUNDS
FOR REASONABLE BELIEF 170
CONVERTING CONVENTION HALL:--“ADREA” IN
WASHINGTON 177
EXIT MRS. CARTER 184
SIGNIFICANT MESSAGES 186
VARIOUS LETTERS AND INCIDENTS OF 1905 188
TRIBUTE TO IRVING 194
BLANCHE BATES AND “THE GIRL OF THE GOLDEN
WEST” 195
A THRILLING STORY--AND A TRUE ONE 200
A MASTERPIECE OF STAGECRAFT: THE STORM IN
“THE GIRL OF THE GOLDEN WEST” 203
THE PARTING OF BLANCHE BATES AND BELASCO.--“THE
FIGHTING HOPE” AND “NOBODY’S WIDOW” 206
A GREAT NIGHT.--BELASCO AT THE METROPOLITAN.--A
GENEROUS ACKNOWLEDGMENT 211
BELASCO AND THE MESSRS. SHUBERT 216
THE ADVENT OF FRANCES STARR.--BELASCO’S “THE
ROSE OF THE RANCHO” 219
A NEW PROJECT:--THE SECOND BELASCO THEATRE 232
IN THE MATTER OF STAGE LIGHTING 242
OPENING OF BELASCO’S STUYVESANT THEATRE:--“A
GRAND ARMY MAN” 247
A DEFEATED PLAN: “THE PASSING OF THE THIRD
FLOOR BACK” 255
“THE WARRENS OF VIRGINIA” 258
“THE EASIEST WAY” 265
“WESTWARD, HO!”--THE SYNDICATE SURRENDERS.--INCIDENTS
OF 1909 269
THE SEASON OF 1909-’10: “IS MATRIMONY A FAILURE?”--“THE
LILY”--AND “JUST A WIFE” 279
A CHANGE OF NAMES.--THE FARCE OF “THE CONCERT” 287
LOSS AND GRIEF.--“NO MAN BEARS SORROW
BETTER” 293
A DRAMA OF SPIRITUALISM 298
BELASCO’S “THE RETURN OF PETER GRIMM” 299
CONCERNING THE EUNUCHS OF CRITICASTERISM 304
“THE WOMAN”--AND MR. ABRAHAM GOLDKNOPF 306
BELASCO AND PLAGIARISM
“FOLLY LOVES THE MARTYRDOM OF FAME” 310
“THE TRICK APPLIED” 312
AN ANCIENT USAGE 313
CHARLES READE ON PLAGIARISM 315
“FOR THE DEFENDANT” 318
CONCERNING BENEFITS--REMEMBERED AND FORGOT 324
THE DRAMATIC WORKS OF DAVID BELASCO
JUVENILE EFFORTS 327
WRITTEN BEFORE 1882-’83 (BELASCO’S NEW
YORK CAREER BEGAN IN SEPTEMBER, 1882) 328
WRITTEN SUBSEQUENT TO 1882-’83 329
PLAYS AS YET UNACTED 332
BELASCO AS A DRAMATIST:--A FRAGMENT 332
THE GOLDKNOPF TRIAL--A UNIQUE DEMONSTRATION 336
A DRAMA OF PSYCHOLOGY:--“THE CASE OF BECKY” 343
“A GOOD LITTLE DEVIL” 348
“THE SECRET” 350
“MARIE-ODILE” 356
RECONCILIATION WITH CHARLES FROHMAN--AND
JOINT PRESENTMENT OF “A CELEBRATED
CASE” 361
LENORE ULRIC.--AND “THE HEART OF WETONA” 366
VARIOUS PRODUCTIONS--MISCELLANEOUS RECORD:
“WHAT’S WRONG.”--“THE VANISHING BRIDE.”--“THE
LOVE THOUGHT.”--“ALIAS.” 373
“THE GOVERNOR’S LADY” 377
“YEARS OF DISCRETION” 381
“THE TEMPERAMENTAL JOURNEY” 386
A REVIVAL OF THE “AUCTIONEER” 386
A MANIAC’S PLAY--“THE MAN INSIDE” 387
BELASCO IN CHINATOWN 394
AN ADMONITION TO STAGE ASPIRANTS 398
“THE PHANTOM RIVAL” 402
“THE BOOMERANG” 406
“SEVEN CHANCES” 411
“THE LITTLE LADY IN BLUE.”--THE LAST
PLAY EVER SEEN BY WILLIAM WINTER 413
“THE VERY MINUTE”--A MEMORANDUM 416
SUMMARY 418
A GREAT SHAKESPEAREAN PROJECT 441
CONCERNING SARAH BERNHARDT 448
BRIEF EXTRACTS FROM MISCELLANEOUS CORRESPONDENCE 452
APPENDIX (BY J. W.)
“VAN DER DECKEN” 459
“POLLY WITH A PAST” 462
“TIGER ROSE” 465
CHRONOLOGY OF THE LIFE OF DAVID BELASCO
(W. W.) 473
INDEX 543
ILLUSTRATIONS.
VOLUME TWO.
_In Photogravure._
David Belasco Frontispiece
PAGE
David Belasco, About 1885 16
David Warfield 26
Mrs. Leslie Carter as _Du Barry_ 42
David Belasco 60
Blanche Bates as _Yo-San_, in “The Darling of the
Gods” 76
David Belasco, About 1889-’90 90
David Belasco 136
Frances Starr 224
Augusta Belasco, Mrs. William Elliott 298
Reina Belasco, Mrs. Morris Gest 300
David Belasco 320
David Belasco 336
David Belasco 418
_In Halftone._
Blanche Bates as _Cigarette_, in “Under Two Flags” 2
A Scene from Belasco’s “Under Two Flags” 6
David Warfield as _Simon Levi_, in “The Auctioneer” 12
Mrs. Leslie Carter as _Du Barry_ 34
Charles A. Stevenson as _King Louis the Fifteenth_, in
Belasco’s “Du Barry” 40
Belasco, About 1902 46
Belasco’s “Studio” in the First Belasco Theatre 54
Belasco in His Studio at the First Belasco Theatre 58
A Scene from “The Darling of the Gods” 72
George Arliss as _Zakkuri, the Minister of War_, in
“The Darling of the Gods” 82
Henrietta Crosman as _Mistress Kitty Bellairs_, in
“Sweet Kitty Bellairs” 100
David Warfield as _Herr Anton von Barwig_, in “The
Music Master” 114
Scene in Front of the Belasco Theatre, Pittsburgh, Pa. 126
Belasco’s “Adrea” Curtains 150
The Members of the Theatrical Syndicate 168
The Crowning Room,--Belasco’s Production of “Adrea” 178
Mrs. Leslie Carter as _Adrea_, in the Tragedy of that
Name 186
Henry Irving in the Last Year of His Life--1904-’05 194
Blanche Bates as _The Girl_, in “The Girl of the
Golden West” 198
To David Belasco 212
In Remembrance 214
The Opera of “The Girl of the Golden West”--A
Souvenir, to Belasco 218
Frances Starr as _Jaunita_, in “The Rose of the
Rancho” 232
Belasco in His Workshop 238
Switchboard of the Second Belasco Theatre, New
York 246
David Warfield as _Wes’ Bigelow_, in “A Grand Army
Man” 254
Charlotte Walker as _Agatha Warren_, in “The Warrens
of Virginia” 264
David Belasco and His Father, Humphrey Abraham
Belasco, in San Francisco, February, 1909--Their
Last Meeting 272
Nance O’Neil as _Odette De Maigny_ and Julia Dean
(the Younger) as _Christine De Maigny_, in “The
Lily” 282
Belasco, About 1911 286
Leo Ditrichstein as _Gabor Arany_ and Janet Beecher
as _Helen, Mrs. Arany_, in “The Concert” 290
“Oft in the Still Night” 294
David Warfield as _Peter Grimm_, in “The Return of
Peter Grimm” 304
“The Student”--David Belasco 312
David Belasco 328
Frances Starr as _Becky_, in “The Case of Becky” 344
Belasco, About 1914 352
Frances Starr as _Marie-Odile_ 360
Lenore Ulric as _Wetona_, in “The Heart of Wetona” 372
Belasco at Orienta Point--Summer Home of His
Daughter, Mrs. Gest 428
Benjamin F. Roeder, Belasco’s General Business
Manager 438
Sarah Bernhardt 450
David Warfield as _Van Der Decken_ 456
Ina Claire as _Polly Shannon_, in “Polly With a Past” 460
Lenore Ulric as _Rose_, in “Tiger Rose” 466
David Belasco--His Latest Portrait, 1918 470
Belasco Leading the Parade of “The Lambs” up
Pennsylvania Avenue, Washington, D. C. 476
“_To him the laurels and the lyre belong:_
_He won them well, and may he wear them long!_”
THE LIFE OF DAVID BELASCO
“UNDER TWO FLAGS.”--BLANCHE BATES THE RISING STAR.
The London engagement of “Zaza” ended, Belasco, Mrs. Carter, and the
members of the “Zaza” company returned to America, sailing from
Southampton, on board the steamship New York, August 18, 1900. Mrs.
Carter’s tour in that play began at the Criterion Theatre, New York, on
October 1, and Belasco turned his attention to launching Blanche Bates
as a star. The histrionic vehicle which he selected for this purpose was
a revamped dramatization of Ouida’s “Under Two Flags.” He had hoped to
obtain a drama on a fresh subject for her use and he had asked Charles
Frohman to assist in finding such a one. But, after waiting a
considerable time without any suitable play coming to light and it being
essential to bring her forward in something, Belasco determined to turn
to an old subject and revivify it. “I decided, in desperation,” he
writes, “to revive ‘Under Two Flags,’ which I had long been familiar
with, of which I had made at least two versions, and which, in the old
days, I had directed for Lotta. Her version of it, however, seemed very
old-fashioned, and I employed Mr. Paul M. Potter to make a new
adaptation of the book. I introduced a novel effect in that production
in the sand-storm in the Fourth Act; it was simple in its mechanism, but
it required much work to perfect it: it has since come into general
use.”
Ouida’s novel is so well known to the public of the Library and, in one
form or another, histrionic adaptations of it are so well known to the
public of the Theatre, that the subject is, in every point of view,
familiar, and minutely detailed consideration of it in this place would,
therefore, be superfluous. The new theatrical epitome of that novel was
made known, for the first time, at the Garden Theatre, New York,
February 5, 1901. It was, in every detail, supervised and made practical
by Belasco, and it owed its success to his ingenious and expert
manipulation and to the embodiment of _Cigarette_ given in it under his
direction by Miss Bates. The story of that ardent, picturesque,
adventurous girl is a story of amatory infatuation, brave exploits, and
pathetic self-sacrifice, under romantic circumstances. The
representative of _Cigarette_ must be handsome, passionate, expeditious,
magnanimous, resolute, full of resource, sparkling with energy,
[Illustration:
Photograph by Sarony. Collection of Jefferson Winter.
BLANCHE BATES AS _CIGARETTE_, IN “UNDER TWO FLAGS”]
potent in fiery conflicts of feeling, and, above all, capable of
covering grief with a smile. That is the essence of her character.
Blanche Bates, possessing rare personal distinction and a temperament
equally attuned to the extreme moods of mirth and grief, was easily
proficient in the assumption of that personality and in the pictorial
and effective exposition of it. Without the presence of that actress the
play (if it had ever been produced at all) would have passed as a
populous, tumultuous stage pageant,--a spectacle of Moorish scenery and
military bustle. Animated by her power, sensibility, and spirited,
various, incessant action, it was lifted to dramatic importance and
Belasco’s “desperate” venture--as he calls it--proved brilliantly
successful.
The employment of _Cigarette_ is the salvation from various dangers of
_Bertie Cecil_, a man whom she loves and whose love is bestowed on
another woman, and her diligence in that employment is attended by risk
and rewarded by ruin. Many persons appear to think that it is beatific
to be loved by other persons and grievous not to be loved, and,
accordingly, love-tales exemplary of the joy, on the one hand, and the
sorrow, on the other, that are sequent from those antipodal conditions
of experience are perennially popular. _Pygmalion_ worships a stone;
_Titania_ caresses the ears of an ass, and the populace is thrilled.
_Cigarette’s_ passion for _Bertie Cecil_ is of the old, familiar kind,
and, the scene being Algeria, her adventures are, theatrically, shown
across a background of singular beauty,--because that country is
remarkable for flowers, cedar forests, Oriental palms, Roman remains,
stony deserts contrasted with smiling villages, and luxuriant gardens
not distant from mountains covered with snow.
Taste, thought, ingenuity, and sedulous care were expended on every
feature of the pageant by Belasco, and the result was a magnificent
spectacle,--one of the richest and most impressive ever seen on our
Stage. Had it been brought here by Henry Irving or Herbert
Beerbohm-Tree, it would have been hailed as a transcendent exploit in
stagecraft. Every scene was a picture, every picture was harmonious with
the phase of the story to be illustrated, and in the transitions from
the luxurious villa, with its prospect of the tranquil ocean faintly
rippling beneath the moon, to the desolate, rocky, weird, and ominous
mountain gorge a climax of solemn grandeur seemed to take shape, color,
and charm, slowly rising out of a dream of romantic beauty. The drift of
whirling mist over the darkening waves of sand on the bleak seacoast
would have seemed the most consummate of illusions had it not been
excelled by the blinding terrors of a mountain tempest. Those effects
were wrought by simple means, but they were not less splendid because of
the simplicity of their management.
The _dramatic_ victory was not won, however, by either the pageantry or
the play. Mr. Potter’s variant version of “Under Two Flags” is hackneyed
in expedients, abrupt in movement, drastic in method, coarse in
character, shady in morals, florid in style, and it was made silly, in
some of the colloquies, by the infusion of contemporary slang and
reference. The listener heard of “rot” and also of “the
Klondike,”--unknown in the period of the story. But the old novel had
been made to yield telling situations, and the strong and splendid
acting of Miss Bates vitalized them, brilliantly animated the whole
structure, and vindicated Belasco’s faith in the ability of the actress.
The revelation of jealousy working in an unsophisticated, half-savage
nature, the elemental passion expressed in the fantastic dance, the
prayer of the breaking heart for her lover’s fidelity, the supplication
for his pardon, the agony when repulsed, the ecstasy when triumphant,
the tremendous conflict of emotions in the wild ride for rescue,--they
were all displayed with more of human nature and more of a competent
artist’s power to control feelings and to shape the effect of situation
than had been seen on our Stage for many a long day.--This was the
original cast of “Under Two Flags” at the Garden Theatre:
_Bertie Cecil_ Francis Carlyle.
_John_ Maclyn Arbuckle.
_Rake_ Edward S. Abeles.
_Countess of Westminster_ Rose Snyder.
_Venetia Lyonnesse_ Margaret Robinson.
_Marquis of Chateauroy_ Campbell Gollan.
_Lord Constantia_ Arthur Bruce.
_Pierre Baroni_ Albert Bruning.
_Renée Baroni_ Grace Elliston.
_General Lamoricière_ Matt. Snyder.
_Paul Lamoricière_ Madge West.
_Captain de Chanrellon_ Beresford Webb.
_En-ta-Maboull_ Frank Leyden.
_Beau Bruno_ Tefft Johnson.
_Amineh_ Mrs. F. M. Bates.
_Cigarette_ Blanche Bates.
BELASCO AND DAVID WARFIELD:--THEIR FIRST MEETING.
“Under Two Flags” was acted at the Garden Theatre until June 3, 1901,
when that house was closed for the season and Belasco turned his
attention to preparations for the appearance of Mrs. Carter in a new
play and for the bringing forward of David Warfield as a star in the
legitimate
[Illustration:
Photograph by Byron. Author’s Collection.
A SCENE IN BELASCO’S “UNDER TWO FLAGS”]
Theatre. That actor, then a popular variety hall performer and a member
of the burlesque and travesty company maintained by Messrs. Weber &
Fields at their theatre in New York,--in Broadway, between Twenty-ninth
and Thirtieth streets,--had negotiated with Belasco, about
August-September, 1900, relative to acting under his management and on
November 2, that year, they entered into a formal agreement whereby
Belasco undertook the direction of Warfield’s professional career. Their
contract was made to cover a first period of three years: it provided
that Warfield should be presented as a star, beginning about September
or October, 1901, and that he should be paid a weekly salary of $300 and
should receive, further, 20 per cent. of the net profits of his
professional exploitation during the first year, 25 per cent. during the
second year, 30 per cent. during the third year, and 50 per cent.
thereafter, if the contract should be renewed. This engagement also
expressly required Belasco “personally to supervise the performances to
be given” by Warfield as well as to provide a play for him to act in.
The professional alliance thus begun between Belasco and Warfield has
proved, for both parties to it, one of the most fortunate ever made in
the Theatre. The personal friendship between them began many years
earlier: Belasco has given the following glimpse of its beginning:
“There was an usher at the Bush Street Theatre--a bright little
fellow with a most luminous smile. He is still small, and his smile
is still luminous. I did not then know his name, but I had heard
that among his family and friends he was quite an entertainer,
being able to sing, to mimic and to recite. One day I was at home,
in my front room on the top floor, when I heard a voice in the
street below. I leaned out, and there on the corner, standing on a
box which scarcely raised him above the gaping onlookers, was the
little usher from the Bush Street Theatre, reciting to a curious
crowd. I went down and stood near until he had finished. Then I
went up to him and asked him his name. ‘Dave Warfield,’ said he,
giving me the smile that lived long afterwards in _Herr von
Barwig_, during all the rehearsals of ‘The Music Master,’ and that
was our first meeting.”
David Warfield was born in San Francisco on November 28, 1866. He began
theatrical life as a programme boy, in the Standard Theatre of that
city. Later he became an usher in the Bush Street Theatre there. His
first professional appearance was made as a member of a travelling
theatrical company at Napa, California, in 1888, as the specious,
rascally Jew, _Melter Moss_, in “The Ticket-of-Leave Man.” That company
was disbanded at the end of one week, and thereafter Warfield appeared
at several San Francisco variety halls, and in a piece called “About
Town,” and gave imitations of actors whom he had seen,--among them
Tommaso Salvini and Sarah Bernhardt,--and of “types” that he had
observed in the streets of his native city. In 1890 he removed to New
York and obtained professional employment, for a short time, in Paine’s
Concert Hall, in Eighth Avenue. His next engagement was to act _Hiram
Joskins_, in a play called “The Inspector,” produced by Mr. William A.
Brady: that employment lasted two months. In March, 1891, he performed
as _Honora_, in “O’Dowd’s Neighbors,” in a company led by Mark Murphy.
In the season of 1891-’92 he acted with Russell’s Comedians, under the
management of John H. Russell, appearing as _John Smith_, in “The City
Directory.” In 1892-’93 he was seen as _Washington Littlehales_, in “A
Nutmeg Match.” In September, 1895, he became associated with the New
York Casino Theatre, where he remained for three years, acting in “About
Town,” “The Merry Whirl,” “In Gay New York,” and “The Belle of New
York,”--pieces which are correctly described as medleys of tinkling
music and nonsense. In those “entertainments,” frivolous and often
vulgar, Warfield presented several variations of substantially the same
identity,--an expert semblance of the New York East Side Jew. In 1898 he
joined the company of Messrs. Weber & Fields, and at their theatre,
where he remained for three seasons, he appeared in various rough and
commonplace travesties of contemporary theatrical successes, generally
presenting, in different lights, his photographic copy of the
huckstering, acquisitive, pusillanimous Jew of low life. One notable
variation of that type was his assumption of _The Old Man_, in a
burlesque of the offensive play of “Catherine.” Among the salient
characteristics of his acting, in whatever parts he played, were
fidelity to minute detail of appearance and demeanor and consistent and
continuous preservation of the spirit of burlesque,--a spirit which
combines imperturbable gravity of aspect with apparently profound
sincerity in preposterous situations and while delivering extravagant,
ludicrous speeches. True burlesque acting is a fine art and admirable as
such, and Warfield was heartily approved in that field; but at the time
when Belasco undertook to make him a star in the regular Theatre nobody,
I believe, except the shrewd and prescient manager,--not even
Warfield,--foresaw that within a few years he would have become one of
the most popular serio-comic actors of the modern American Stage.
WARFIELD AND “THE AUCTIONEER.”
The play in which Belasco elected to launch Warfield was entitled “The
Auctioneer.” He had, at first, intended to write this play himself,
calling it “The Only Levi.” But his time and energy were so preoccupied
by labor in connection with the establishment of Miss Bates and the
direction of Mrs. Carter’s career that he was unable to do so. He,
therefore, employed a playwright known as Lee Arthur (Arthur Lee Kahn)
to take his ideas and suggestions and weld them into dramatic form. The
fabric which Arthur, in fulfilment of this employment, delivered to him
was so wholly unfit for use (“an impossible thing, unworthy of
production,” Belasco designated it) that he subsequently engaged the
late Charles Klein to rewrite it in collaboration with Arthur, and,
finally, was compelled himself to rehash and partly rectify it during
rehearsals and early performances. It was first acted at the Hyperion
Theatre, New Haven, Connecticut, September 9, 1901. Warfield, testifying
on the subject in court, several years later, made a statement,--which,
surely, may be accepted as authoritative,--regarding this piece, as
originally produced, which is terse and informing: “When we began to
rehearse,” he said, “we had a book filled with words. The play was a
frost. _It was the biggest failure you ever heard of_, the opening
night.... Mr. Belasco worked day and night upon the reconstruction of
that play, from the time that he started with the rehearsals the week
before we left New York [preliminary rehearsals had been conducted by
Messrs. Klein and Arthur] until we came to New York and played, three
weeks later.” The first performance of “The Auctioneer” in the
metropolis occurred September 23, at the old Bijou Theatre, in Broadway,
between Thirtieth and Thirty-first streets. The piece, as then made
known, is a superficial, insubstantial one, which, however, contrives to
illustrate some vicissitudes of fortune, and, in the main part,
exemplifies the idea of a right philosophy in bearing them. That main
part is a Jewish auctioneer, named _Simon Levi_, resident in Baxter
Street, New York, and conducting an auction-room in the Five Points
region. _Levi_, having inherited a modest but competent fortune,
purchases a residence in a fashionable part of the city and invests the
balance of his money in a Trust Company. Then, at a festival in
celebration of the betrothal of his adopted daughter, a girl named
_Helga_, he is apprized that his stock certificates in the Trust Company
are bogus and that _Richard Eagan_, the affianced husband of
[Illustration:
Photograph by Pach. Belasco’s Collection.
DAVID WARFIELD AS _SIMON LEVI_, IN “THE AUCTIONEER”]
_Helga_, for whom he has bought a partnership in a Wall Street brokerage
firm, is to be arrested, charged with fraud in issuing them. Forced,
with his dearly loved and cherished wife, to leave his new home in
ignominious circumstances, _Levi_, though feeble in body and hurt in
spirit, bravely begins anew the strife of living,--peddling toys in the
streets. He discovers, ultimately, that the actual swindler who has
ruined him is one _Groode_, the partner of his prospective son-in-law,
from whom he recovers his wealth, delivering the culprit up to justice
and relieving the distress of his own loved ones. This story,
notwithstanding Belasco’s strenuous labor, lost little of its trite
conventionality in its histrionic relation; but his capital stage
management and the highly meritorious performance given by Warfield
under his direction made of a flimsy, trivial play a notable and
substantial success.
It was a shrewd device, when inducting Warfield into the regular
Theatre, to do so not abruptly, but, as it were, by gentle
actuation,--to provide for his first essay a character which was little
more than an elaboration of his Jewish “specialty,” in which his early
success had been gained, with an element of pathetic experience and
feeling superadded to it. “I had been watching Warfield for years,” said
Belasco, “and I felt sure that, if he would only study, I could make a
great character [_sic_--meaning “eccentric”] actor of him; I told him
so, and when I thought he was ready I engaged him.” While I cannot
altogether agree with Belasco in his opinion, often and warmly declared,
that David Warfield is “a unique and great actor,”--not, that is, in the
same sense that, for example, Henry Placide, William Warren, Joseph
Jefferson and John Hare were great actors,--there is no question of his
rare and fine talent nor of his steady growth in artistic stature. He
has revealed in his acting an engaging personality, a genial
disposition, a gentle manner, quick sympathy with right ideals, and
capability of fervid emotion and simple pathos. Of all the many players,
male and female, whom Belasco has guided and helped to develop none, in
my judgment, owes more to his fostering care and assistance than
Warfield does: it is extremely probable that, without Belasco’s aid, he
would have remained to the end of his career a denizen of the
music-halls, instead of becoming, as he has become, one of the most
loved and admired actors of our Stage. As _Simon Levi_ he presented a
genuine, consistent impersonation in the vein of eccentric low comedy,
at places touched with tender feeling and momentarily irradiated with
pathos. His assumption of the physical attributes of this particular
Jew of low life,--the sallow complexion; the thin, wiry hair; the
splayfooted, shambling gait; the voluble gestures, the singular dialect;
the manner, now aggressive, now fawning,--was quite perfect; but his
significant achievement was his success in denoting a steadfast,
affectionate, patient nature beneath the mean outside of a petty
huckster subjected to cruel disappointment and hardship.--This was the
original cast of “The Auctioneer”:
_Simon Levi_ David Warfield.
_Mrs. Levi._ Maria Davis.
_Mrs. Eagan._ Marie Bates.
_Callahan._ Odell Williams.
_Jacob Sampson._ Harry Rodgers.
_Richard Eagan._ Brandon Tynan.
_Mo Fininski._ Eugene Canfield.
_Minnie._ Nellie Lynch.
_Groode._ William Boag.
_Mrs. Sampson._ Helena Phillips.
_Helga._ Maude Winter.
_Dawkins._ Horace James.
_Critch._ H. S. Millward.
_Miss Manning._ Nina Lyn.
_Miss Crompton._ Elizabeth Berkeley.
_Miss Finch._ Corah Adams.
_Zeke._ Cyril Vezina.
_Mandy._ Ruth Dennis.
_Policeman._ Harry Rawlins.
_Chestnut Vender._ Richard Bevan.
IN THE GRIP OF THE OCTOPUS.--ANCIENT METHODS IN MODERN BUSINESS.
“The Auctioneer” played at the Bijou Theatre until December 21,--105
consecutive performances being given there. On December 23 Warfield
began a “road tour” in that play which lasted for twenty weeks, ending
at the Illinois Theatre, Chicago, May 10, 1902. The net profit from this
tour was $80,000,--certainly an amazing sum to be gained by presentation
in the regular Theatre of an unknown star, fresh from the music halls,
who, all told, had appeared in perhaps a score of productions! But
Belasco’s actual profit from the fruits of his perspicacious judgment
and enterprise was far less than that great sum. The reason of this
seemingly strange fact is that in his professional exploitation of
Warfield he had fallen into the ruthless grip of an iniquitous
“booking-monopoly” which, practically, dominated for many years what are
known as “the first-class theatres” of America and which is still
perniciously active. Belasco’s conflict with that monopoly was long and
bitter; thousands of columns have been devoted to it in the newspaper
press of the country, and it has, at various times, occupied a prominent
place in public attention. That conflict grew directly out
[Illustration: DAVID BELASCO
About 1885
Photograph by Falk.
Belasco’s Collection.
]
of his undertaking the management of Warfield. Several actions at law
have been incident to it. Testifying under oath in one of them, in 1905,
Belasco gave an account of his experience in relation to “The
Auctioneer” which I believe to be true in all essentials and of which I
make the following abstract and brief chronicle:
After Belasco had undertaken to bring forward Warfield as a star he
applied to Mr. Abraham Lincoln Erlanger, junior member of the firm of
Klaw & Erlanger, theatrical managers and booking agents (i.e., “agents”
who arbitrarily arranged tours by theatrical companies through American
cities), for the purpose of making advantageous arrangements for
Warfield to appear in New York and other cities. He applied to Mr.
Erlanger because he was aware that it was, at the time, practically
speaking, impossible for him to make such arrangements, except through
the firm of Klaw & Erlanger, and that the junior member attended to such
business for that firm. He called on Mr. Erlanger at his residence, No.
262 West Seventieth Street, New York, on Sunday, December 9, 1900, and
stated his wish. Mr. Erlanger, in response, stated that “We [K. & E.]
are not in this business for our health” and inquired “Where do we [K. &
E.] come in?” Belasco replied that Klaw & Erlanger would receive their
customary commission, $300 to $400, for “booking” the play. To this Mr.
Erlanger rejoined “Hell, about that: we got to get something more.”
Belasco, after protesting that he was not, in any way, soliciting a
favor; that he assumed all risk and liability in the venture, and that
he felt it to be “a sort of blackmail” (and a very obvious sort, I
should say!) to exact from him a share in whatever gains might accrue to
him from presentation of Warfield, offered to surrender to Klaw &
Erlanger 20 per cent. of such gains, in return for “a route.” This
offer, swore Belasco, Mr. Erlanger rejected, demanding that, instead he
(his firm) should receive _50_ per cent. of any profits from the
exploitation of Warfield. To Belasco’s inquiry as to why he should
receive this unearned remuneration Mr. Erlanger rejoined “None of your
damn’ business; I want half, and _if I don’t get half_ out of Warfield
_you can’t have a route for him_. I will crush you out; sit upon you;
jump upon you, and push you out; _crush you out of this theatrical
business_!” He further admonished Belasco thus: “Understand me, Belasco;
hereafter, I want 50 per cent. of every damn’ thing you do!” Belasco,
after taking several days to consider this extortionate proposal,
decided that he could not avoid accepting it, if he was successfully to
present Warfield. He went, in company with his business manager,
Benjamin F. Roeder, to Mr. Erlanger’s office and there communicated his
decision to him, saying: “Mr. Erlanger, I can’t see any escape for me. I
want it understood that you are _compelling_ me to give up 50 per cent.
I don’t think it is right, but, if you insist, there is nothing else for
me to do.” The agreement was then made, the late Joseph Brooks, an
associate of Klaw & Erlanger, being put forward, according to Belasco’s
testimony, as a “dummy” in the written contract, in order that the
partnership of Klaw & Erlanger might be concealed from their partners in
the Theatrical Syndicate,--Messrs. Charles Frohman, Al. Hayman, Samuel
F. Nirdlinger (known as S. F. Nixon) and J. Fred. Zimmermann,--this
concealment being desired in order that Klaw & Erlanger, as booking
agents, might be able to exact more profitable terms from their
Syndicate partners than would be possible if that firm were generally
known to possess “an interest” in the presentation of Warfield in “The
Auctioneer.” Belasco, to substantiate his assertion that, actually, he
was in partnership with Klaw & Erlanger, not with Brooks, in the said
presentation, produced a number of paid cheques drawn to the order of
that firm, to a total amount of more than $30,000,--which, he swore,
represented its 50 per cent. of profits from “The Auctioneer” during
the period while that play was “booked” by Klaw & Erlanger,--a period
which, from the record, seems to have ended on January 31, 1902, at
Duluth, Minnesota. Brooks, by way of explaining those cheques, testified
that he had directed Belasco’s business agent, Roeder, to make them
payable to the order of Klaw & Erlanger because he, Brooks, was
frequently absent from New York! Brooks _admitted_ that he “made them
[Klaw & Erlanger] a present of” two-thirds of the half-interest in
presentation of “The Auctioneer” which he asserted was his.
TESTIMONY UNDER OATH:--BELASCO _VERSUS_ ERLANGER.
If we accept Belasco’s sworn testimony as true, then it must appear that
in the matter of arranging a tour for Warfield in “The Auctioneer” he
was the victim of as brazen and shameful an instance of blackmail as has
ever been perpetrated. It must, however, in justice be specified that
Mr. Erlanger, also testifying under oath, _flatly denied every material
statement_ made by Belasco bearing on this matter: the effect of Mr.
Erlanger’s sworn testimony, if it be accepted as true, must be to
exhibit Belasco as a villain and a liar. The eminent lawyer Samuel
Untermyer, Esq., who appeared for Belasco in the legal actions from the
records of which this conflictive testimony is cited, seems to have been
strongly impressed by its mutually exclusive nature: in reading certain
affidavits in the cases he remarked that they were “so contradictory
that they reveal a most flagrant and rank perjury on one side or the
other.” But every man’s testimony should receive the degree of respect
and credence to which his known character and reputation entitle it. I
have known Belasco for more than thirty years and, though he is (as I
know and in this Memoir have shown) often inaccurate and heedless in
regard to chronologic sequence, I know him to be trustworthy as to
substance in the statement of material facts; in short, _his_ known
character and reputation are good. Erlanger, on the contrary, is a
person whose public record, as known to me, is wholly consistent with
Belasco’s account of his conduct,--a cowardly, hectoring bully, of
violent temper and unsavory repute. Apart from this, since Erlanger has
testified relative to certain affidavits made by him “The things I
_swear_ to I only _look at casually_” (!!!) I see no reason to believe
that the things he “swears to,” derogatory of others, are worthy of any
respect or credence. It would be pleasant to me to avoid any mention of
this person, his character and proceedings; but it is impossible to do
so when writing an authentic account of the life of Belasco or of the
American Stage since about 1896. “He [Erlanger],” Belasco has declared,
“told me that if I refused his terms he would compel me to go into the
streets and blacken my face to earn a living. He said that I spoiled the
public instead of compelling them to take what the Trust chose to give,
and that a man with ideals in the theatrical business wound up with a
benefit within three years.” There is, therefore, I believe, ample
ground for the feeling toward and opinion about Erlanger which Belasco
expressed in his testimony: “I detest the man and his methods. I detest
him to-day. I think he is the most abhorred man in the country, because
he strikes hard bargains, and he makes people give up more than any
other man in the country.”--The suits at law referred to in the
foregoing passage (suits brought by Joseph Brooks against David Belasco
and David Belasco Company, and by David Belasco Company against Marc
Klaw, Abraham L. Erlanger and Joseph Brooks, the purposes of which were
to establish whether Belasco and Brooks or Belasco and Klaw & Erlanger
were partners in the presentation of David Warfield in “The Auctioneer”
and to secure an accounting under the partnership agreement) were tried
before the Hon. James J. Fitzgerald, J., sitting in equity, at Special
Session of Part V., Supreme Court, State of New York, April 6 to 26,
1905. The decision and judgment were against Belasco, and his case was
carried on appeal to the Appellate Division, First Department, of the
Supreme Court, April 20, 1906.
LAW _VERSUS_ JUSTICE.
That adverse decision and judgment were based on a technicality,--on a
point of law, not on a point of fact. The learned Justice who rendered
decision and pronounced judgment did not find that Belasco had failed to
prove his contention that, actually, he was in partnership with Klaw &
Erlanger, not with Brooks, in presentation of “The Auctioneer.” He found
that “parol evidence” could not be held to alter the effect of a written
and sealed instrument of engagement. “The rule,” he declared, “allowing
parol _proof_ of an undisclosed principal _is limited to simple
contracts_, for if the agreement be _a sealed_ one, _only the parties
thereto subscribing_ can be held bound.” The question of prime public
interest in this case (and it _is_ of prime public interest, because
the veracity, reputation and standing of one of the most eminent and
influential men in our Theatre are affected by it) is not whether
Belasco could, in law, under a strict rule of evidence, _enforce_
against Klaw & Erlanger the contract actually signed by Brooks: the
question is whether or not that contract was, _in fact_, signed by
Brooks as “a man of straw” for Klaw & Erlanger, and by Belasco under
duress. I cannot conceive that any intelligent and judicious person
could read the testimony adduced and reach any other conclusion but that
Belasco had proved his allegations as to fact. And it seems clear to me
that the learned Justice must have felt satisfied that Belasco had
proved his case, _as to fact_,--otherwise he would not have been at such
pains to argue _in extenso_ the _incompetency_ of such _proof_ under the
rule.
A FAITHFUL FRIEND:--WARFIELD FOR BELASCO. THE END OF “THE AUCTIONEER.”
Warfield’s second season in “The Auctioneer” began, September 8, 1902,
at the Hollis Street Theatre, Boston, and lasted for 39 weeks,--closing
at the Victoria Theatre, New York, May 30, 1903. 315 performances were
given and the net profits were $70,000. His third season began at the
Harlem Opera House, New York, September 28. It was in December, 1903,
that Brooks applied to Judge David Leventritt for a receiver for “The
Auctioneer.” Warfield, then acting in New Orleans, being apprised of
this application, declared that he would “not play under the management
of Klaw & Erlanger’s representative, a receiver, or any one but David
Belasco.” That declaration, being published in the newspaper press, was
construed by Judge Leventritt as an attempt on the part of Warfield to
coerce the court in the matter of appointing a receiver and,--remarking
that if it had not been for what he deemed to be an attempt at coercion
he would have been inclined to appoint Belasco as the receiver,--he
named W. M. K. Olcott. Warfield thereupon refused to continue acting,
his tour was summarily closed, January 10, 1904,--two weeks’ salary
being paid by Belasco to the members of the company, in lieu of
notice,--and Warfield returned to New York. Before leaving New Orleans
he published this statement:
“When I stated I would not play under the management of any one but
Mr. Belasco, I meant just what I said. It was not a threat--simply
expression of my honest conviction as to what was just and due to
the man who has made me a successful star. ‘The Auctioneer’ was Mr.
Belasco’s own investment, every penny of it. It was he who
conceived the idea of starring me in a play of this character.
From this man Brooks I have received nothing, nor have I from Klaw
& Erlanger, who are Mr. Belasco’s partners in ‘The Auctioneer.’ The
manner in which they became partners will be shown and proved when
this case comes into court for trial. They refused to give Mr.
Belasco bookings until he had surrendered 50 per cent. of the
concern. I was an unmade star then, and Mr. Belasco was not in the
position of power which he holds to-day. We had to divide. But of
the profits which Klaw & Erlanger have made from the managers with
whom they have booked the attraction, neither Mr. Belasco nor I
have received one penny from our partners. As for Brooks, he has
never had even carfare, unless Klaw & Erlanger have been more
liberal to him than to us.
“The trouble and annoyance which this whole affair has caused me
have made me ill. But, sick or well, I absolutely refuse to play in
‘The Auctioneer’ for any one but my own manager, Mr. David Belasco.
I defy Mr. Erlanger to deny that he and Mr. Klaw, and not Mr.
Brooks, are the real partners of Mr. Belasco in my tour. He told me
so with his own lips, when the New Amsterdam Theatre was building
last summer. He asked me to come and see how the foundations were
getting on. And when I funked, before crossing a rather rickety
looking plank, he said ‘I won’t let you get hurt, old man.
Remember, I own 50 per cent. of you.’ When Klaw & Erlanger hand
over our share of the profits they have made on the side, through
booking my play, I will go on with the tour, if my health permits.”
After his arrival in New York, having read the remarks of the judge in
appointing a receiver, Warfield made this further statement:
[Illustration: DAVID WARFIELD
Photograph by White.
Belasco’s Collection.
]
“I must disclaim any intention of having attempted to coerce the
court into appointing the receiver I desired. Realizing as I did
the enormous amount of labor and energy expended by Mr. Belasco in
making the tours of ‘The Auctioneer’ a success, and appreciating as
I did that without me in the cast it was a grave question whether
the success of ‘The Auctioneer’ could continue, I thought it but
proper for me to inform the court that conscientiously I could not
continue to act unless Mr. Belasco was appointed receiver. I am
very sorry that my statement had the effect it did have, but it is
pleasing for me to learn that the charges made by Mr. Brooks
against Mr. Belasco were unfounded and not believed by the court,
because the court in its opinion says that were it not from a
desire to rebuke _me_ it might have felt inclined to have appointed
Mr. Belasco receiver. That is sufficient satisfaction to us who
know Mr. Belasco’s character, because it is certainly fair to
assume that the court would not have felt inclined to appoint Mr.
Belasco receiver if it believed the charges brought against him.
“I am forced to continue the stand I originally took. I have closed
the season of ‘The Auctioneer,’ nor will I continue to act in that
play under the management of any person but Mr. Belasco.”
Brooks applied for a mandatory injunction to compel Warfield to continue
acting in “The Auctioneer,” under the receivership direction of Mr.
Olcott, and arguments supporting and opposing that application were
heard before Justice Leventritt in the Supreme Court on January 26,
1904. Counsel for Warfield contended that while the court might enjoin
Warfield from acting for any persons outside of his contract, it had no
jurisdiction to compel him to act if he declined to do so. Justice
Leventritt agreed with that view of the matter and held that a mandatory
injunction as prayed for could not issue. Warfield did not act again for
eight months.
TEMPERAMENTAL SYMPATHY.--EARLY READING: “THE LOW SUN MAKES THE COLOR.”
In his youth Belasco was an omnivorous reader (as he continues to be),
but his favorite reading was that of History, and among historical
characters that specially enthralled his imagination was Mary, Queen o’
Scots. Indeed, he has, in conversation, given me the impression that,
from an early age, his mind has been deeply interested in the study of
those famous women of history whose conduct of life is shown to have
been governed by their appetites and passions. That taste seems morbid,
but it is readily explicable. Such women have been, are, and always will
be a direct spring of tense, dramatic, romantic situations and tragic
events, and sometimes their experience involves incidents and culminates
in catastrophes which make a strong appeal to persons who possess, as
Belasco does, a highly emotional temperament. _Queen Guinevere_, in
Tennyson’s pathetic “Idyl,” remarks that “the low sun makes the color.”
Such women as Malcolm’s Queen Margaret of Scotland or Mme. Roland,
probably, would be viewed by Belasco with merely languid respect or
indifference. Such a woman as Navarre’s Marguerite de Valois, or Queen
Catherine the Second of Russia, or the irresistible siren Barbara
Villiers, or that all-conquering captivator Arabella Stuart,--whose
image lives, perpetual, in sculpture and, as Brittania, on the coins of
Great Britain,--would, on the contrary, provide for him an exceedingly
interesting study. It is not, therefore, altogether surprising that when
Belasco had established Mrs. Leslie Carter as a successful star it
pleased him to select for public illustration in a drama one of the most
depraved and dissolute feminine characters that hang on the fringes of
history,--the shameless hussy who, about 145 years ago, was picked out
of the streets of Paris, and under the auspices of the most notorious
titled blackguard of his time wedded to a complaisant degenerate, in
order that she might succeed Mme. Pompadour as the mistress of King
Louis the Fifteenth of France. Marie Jeanne Becu (1746-1793), who began
life in Paris as a milliner, became a courtesan, under the name of Mlle.
Lange, was later a lure for a gambling house, then, ennobled as the
“Countess du Barry,” was installed as the mistress of the corrupt King
Louis the Fifteenth,--whom practically she ruled for five years,--and
finally was slaughtered in the Reign of Terror, is the theme of one of
the most pictorial, popular, and successful of Belasco’s plays. His
selection of a story of that remarkable female’s adventures for dramatic
exploitation was not, however, wholly spontaneous. In 1899, aware that a
successor to the torrid termagant of the Paris music-halls would
presently be required for Mrs. Carter’s use, he began to cast about for
a play with a central character suited to her personality and method.
Not finding anything which he deemed satisfactory in the numerous
dramas, old as well as new, by many authors, which he examined, he
began, regretfully, to contemplate the necessity of writing one to fit
his star,--regretfully, because he was weary and would have been glad to
avoid adding the labor of authorship to that of business and stage
management. His election had practically fallen on Queen Elizabeth as
the central figure to be shown, when he abruptly determined to visit
England, partly in faint hope of finding there a drama which would serve
his end; more with intent to refresh his mind by change and travel and
to stimulate himself to his new task by visiting all the places
associated with the life and reign of Elizabeth. He sailed from New York
on June 14, 1899. Soon after he arrived in London an American
playbroker, Miss Elisabeth Marbury, communicated to him that “she had a
great idea for a part for Mrs. Carter.” Belasco, entertaining a high
opinion of Miss Marbury’s judgment and rejoiced at the sudden prospect
of escaping the labor of authorship, immediately went to see her, at
Versailles, in France, and there was informed that the French poet M.
Jean Richepin “proposed to write a play founded on the life of du
Barry.” The appended account of what followed has been written by
Belasco, and it provides explicit information on a subject that at one
time was disputed with acrimony in the newspaper press and occupied much
of the attention of the theatre-going public:
GENESIS OF BELASCO’S _DU BARRY_.--CHARACTER OF THE HISTORIC ORIGINAL.
“Miss Marbury outlined the plot as told to her by the dramatist,
and, as she repeated it to me, the story seemed to possess great
possibilities. I had produced Revolutionary plays with much success
and the period was dramatic. No manager in search of a woman’s play
could have resisted the fascinating little milliner of history!
Not long after our first interview I made arrangements with M.
Richepin. I smile at the recollection of my conversation with the
French author! He spoke very little English and I no French at all;
yet I seemed to know what he said, and he grew most enthusiastic
over my pantomime. The contracts were arranged, the advance
royalties paid, the costume plates begun, and before I left for
London the scene models were ordered from the scenic artist of the
Comédie Française. Carried away by the enthusiasm of M. Richepin, I
bought yards and yards of old du Barry velvets, antique silks, and
furniture of the period. When I left for home I had made all
arrangements to produce a play not a line of which was written. I
returned to New York elated, feeling certain that in a few weeks M.
Richepin would have the piece ready for rehearsals. When the
manuscript of ‘Du Barry’ arrived, I could scarcely wait to open the
package. Alas! I was doomed to disappointment. ‘Du Barry,’ in the
literary flesh, was episodic. It was poetic and beautifully
written, but deadly dull. It differed entirely from the story I had
heard in Versailles. My company was practically engaged, my models
done--and no play! I wrote to M. Richepin, and gave him my opinion
of the manuscript. I did not utterly condemn his first draft, for I
hoped that with some suggestions, he might be able to reshape his
material; but the longer he worked the more impossible the
manuscript became, until at last I lost all faith in it. It
possessed a certain charm, but--it was not a play. By this time I
had paid M. Richepin something like $3,000 in advance royalties,
and the properties and scenes were almost all delivered. I was so
deeply involved that I saw no way out of it. As du Barry was free
to any dramatist, I decided it was time to have a hand in
dramatizing the lady myself. I knew exactly what I wanted and what
was best suited to Mrs. Carter. Under the circumstances, it seemed
to me that I could save time and cablegrams by taking my own
suggestions instead of sending them to Paris. I arrived at this
decision only when I found that M. Richepin was a far greater poet
than playwright. So I threw out his play and set to work on my
own.”
Speaking of the character of “the little French milliner,” Belasco has
said: “History paints du Barry as the most despised woman of her time.
She is said to have been the most evil creature antedating the French
Revolution. I had a vast number of books relating to du Barry, and
ransacked them all for one redeeming trait in her character: not one
kind word. Alas! Not _one_! For the first time in my life I found myself
in the hands of a really bad woman. I had never met one before (bad men
I _have_ met, but women,--never!). I felt a desire to rush to her
defence.... But--I need not have troubled myself to defend the lady,
for, good or bad, from the first night until the close of the play three
years later the public liked the French milliner and the houses were
sold out.”
A little more careful ransacking of his vast du Barry library might have
revealed some of the kind words about “the lady” which Belasco sought.
Voltaire, in 1773, signified his appreciation of du Barry’s charms in
the following couplet, which certainly carries adulation to an extreme
limit:
“C’est aux mortels d’adorer votre image;
L’original était fait pour les dieux.”
The following description of this handsome female explains, at least
partially, the influence that she exerted. It was written by the Comte
de Belleval, one of her many admirers:
“Madame du Barry was one of the prettiest women at the Court, where
there were so many, and assuredly the most bewitching, on account
of the perfections of her whole person. Her hair, which she often
wore without powder, was fair and of a most beautiful color, and
she had such a profusion that she was at a loss to know what to do
with it. Her blue eyes, widely open, had a kind and frank
expression, and she fixed them upon those persons to whom she spoke
and seemed to follow in their faces the effect of her words. She
had a tiny nose, a very small mouth, and a skin of dazzling
whiteness. In short, she quickly fascinated every one.”
A FANCIFUL FABRIC.--“DU BARRY” FIRST PRODUCED.
The play which Belasco fabricated and produced under the name of “Du
Barry” is radically fanciful: its uses historic names, but it is not, in
any sense, history. As in many precedent cases so in this one,
[Illustration:
Photograph by Sarony. Belasco’s Collection.
MRS. LESLIE CARTER AS _DU BARRY_]
authentic records were ignored and an arbitrary, gilt-edged, rosy ideal
took the place of truth. _Nell Gwynn_, in the person of Miss Henrietta
Crosman, had worn the halo but a little time before (Bijou Theatre, New
York, October 9, 1900), and if _Nell Gwynn_ could wear it, why not
_Marie Jeanne_? This burnishing process, to be sure, is diffusive of
vast and general misinformation, but for most persons that seems to be
quite as useful as accurate knowledge, and, after all, if the Stage is
to present imperial wantons in any fashion it may as well present them
in a decent one. The gay _du Barry_ as seen by the dramatist,--or, at
least, as shown by him,--was abundantly frail, but she was also fond,
and while she did not scruple to pick up the royal pocket-handkerchief
she nevertheless, in her woman’s heart, remained true to her first love:
that is the story of the play. The adventurous actual du Barry became
the paramour of Cossé-Brissac, after King Louis the Fifteenth had died
and after she had been exiled from the French Court. In the play the
lady hides that lover in her bed (he has been wounded, and she persuades
him to seek this retirement by pounding on his wounds with a heavy
candlestick, until he becomes insensible), so that the jealous _King_,
committing the blunder of Byron’s _Don Alfonso_, in “Don Juan,” cannot
find him: she also wields the convenient candlestick with which to
smash the sconce of an interloping relative who otherwise would betray
him; she defies, for his sake, the gracious Majesty of France and every
appurtenance thereunto belonging; and, at the last, she goes
pathetically to the guillotine, still loving him and still deploring her
innocent, youthful past, when they were happy lovers together, when all
was peace, joy, and hope,--because as the old poet Rogers prettily
phrases it, “Life was new and the heart promised what the fancy drew.”
As a matter of fact, the amiable countrymen of du Barry sent her to the
guillotine, in the winter of 1793, because they had ascertained that she
was too rich to be a patriot and also, probably, had entered on a secret
correspondence with their enemies in England.
As an epigraph to his play the dramatist selected a remark by Oliver
Wendell Holmes, that “not the great historical events but the personal
incidents that call up sharp pictures of some human being in its pang or
struggle reach us more nearly.” That statement sounds well, but it
labors under the disadvantage of not being true. The play, however,
exemplifies it to the extent of showing its heroine chiefly in her
“pang”--a condition which, seemingly, ensues upon her being a
feather-brained fool, but which she loquaciously ascribes to Fate and a
ruthless appetite for “pretty things.” There is some lightness at the
start, when _Jeanne_ is a milliner, but the opening act proves to be
practically needless, since the play does not actually begin till after
the second curtain has been raised. Then the volatile girl is tempted by
the offer of the _King’s_ love, and in order that she may accept it her
honest lover is made to misunderstand her, in an incredible manner, such
as is possible only on the stage. In the Third Act she has become a
great personage, almost a queen, and that act, which is interesting,
various, and dramatic, terminates with a highly effective scene,
possible in a play, but impossible in life,--when _du Barry’s_ wounded
lover, falling insensible on that lady’s bed and being carelessly
covered with drapery, remains there, sufficiently visible to a crowd of
eager and suspicious pursuers who are searching for him--but do not find
him. The rest of the piece shows the _King’s_ efforts to capture the
fugitive and _du Barry’s_ schemes and pleadings to save him, and it
terminates with a pathetic farewell between the lovers as _Jeanne_,
deserted and forlorn, is being conveyed to the guillotine.
Mrs. Carter, adept in coquetry, displayed, as _du Barry_, her abundant
physical fascination, but if she had refrained from removing her shoes
and showing her feet at brief intervals during the performance she
would have been considerably more pleasing in that easy vein of
bewitchment:--they were not even pretty feet. In serious business the
method of Mrs. Carter as _du Barry_ was to work herself into a state of
violent excitement, to weep, vociferate, shriek, rant, become hoarse
with passion, and finally to flop and beat the floor. That method has
many votaries and by them is thought to be “acting” and is much admired,
but to judicious observers it is merely the facile expedient of
transparent artifice and the ready resource of a febrile, unstable
nature. An actor who loses self-control can never really control an
audience. There were, nevertheless, executive force and skill in Mrs.
Carter’s performance, after it had been often repeated under the guiding
government of her sagacious and able manager.
Belasco’s “Du Barry” was first produced at the New National Theatre,
Washington, D. C., December 12, 1901. The first performance of it in New
York occurred December 25, that year, at the Criterion Theatre, where it
was continuously acted till the close of the season, May 31, 1902,
receiving 165 consecutive performances. The play is comprehended in five
acts and eight scenes and it implicates fifty-five persons,--of whom
five are conspicuous characters by whom the burden of the action is
sustained,--and a host of supernumeraries. It was set on the stage in a
scenic investiture of extreme costliness and ostentation, being, indeed,
almost overwhelmed in the profusion of its accessories of spectacle.
Referring to this extreme opulence of environment and attire, Belasco
has said: “I offered Charles Frohman a half-interest in my ‘Du Barry,’
but he declined to come in with me because of the immense expense. His
judgment was logical, too. ‘Du Barry’ might easily have ruined any
manager. The expenses of the production were such that there was little
profit to be made. When the curtain rose it afforded the public an
opportunity to see how a manager’s hands were forced by the very
prodigality of the subject he had chosen. My production was lavish
because the play was laid in a lavish time. The mere ‘suggestion’ of
luxury would not do,--or so I thought. Were I to do it again, it would
be from an entirely different standpoint.” I much doubt whether, if the
venture were to be made anew, Belasco would make it in a different way.
At any rate, the purpose he had in mind was fully accomplished: the
immense prodigality of his presentment profoundly impressed and greatly
delighted his audiences, and the Criterion was densely crowded at every
performance. The two most striking scenes were those of Act Three,
which showed a room in the Palace of Versailles, and the Last Scene of
Act Five, in front of a milliner’s shop. The latter portrayed a street
in Paris, shadowed by strange, “high-shouldered” houses, through which
the wretched _du Barry_, abject and terrified, was dragged to
execution,--huddled in a tumbril, attended only by a priest, the _Papal
Nuncio_, and followed by a fierce, hooting rabble, while other men and
women appeared at various house-windows, to jeer and curse her. It was
an afflictingly pathetic scene, conceived and executed with perfect
sense of dramatic effect and perfect mastery of the means of creating
it.
This was the original cast of “Du Barry”:
_King Louis the Fifteenth_ of France Charles A. Stevenson.
_Comte Jean du Barry_ Campbell Gollan.
_Comte Guillaume du Barry_ Beresford Webb.
_Duc de Brissac_ Henry Weaver, Sr.
_Cossé-Brissac_ Hamilton Revelle.
_The Papal Nuncio_ H. R. Roberts.
_Duc de Richelieu_ Frederick Perry.
_Terray, Minister of Finance_ C. P. Flockton.
_Maupeou, Lord Chancellor_ H. G. Carlton.
_Duc d’Aiguillon_ Leonard Cooper.
_Denys_ Claude Gillingwater.
_Lebel_ Herbert Millward.
_M. Labille_ Gilmore Scott.
_Vaubernier_ Walter Belasco.
[Illustration:
Photograph by Byron. Belasco’s Collection.
CHARLES A. STEVENSON AS _KING LOUIS THE FIFTEENTH_, IN BELASCO’S “DU
BARRY”]
_Scario_ J. D. Jones.
_Zamore_ Master Sams.
_Jeweller_ B. L. Clinton.
_Perfumer_ Edward Redford.
_Glover_ Thomas Thorne.
_Flute Player_ A. Joly.
_A Turk_ Albert Sanford.
_Valroy_ Douglas Wood.
_D’Altaire_ Louis Myll.
_De Courcel_ Harold Howard.
_La Garde_ W. T. Bune.
_Fontenelle_ Warren Bevin.
_Renard_ Arthur Pearson.
_Citizen Grieve_ Gaston Mervale.
_Marac_ Walter Belasco.
_Benisot_ H. G. Carlton.
_Tavernier_ John Ingram.
_Gomard_ Charles Hayne.
_Hortense_ Eleanor Carey.
_Lolotte_ Nina Lyn.
_Manon_ Florence St. Leonard.
_Julie_ Corah Adams.
_Leonie_ Blanche Sherwood.
_Nichette_ Ann Archer.
_Juliette_ May Lyn.
_Marquise de Quesnoy_ Blanche Rice.
_Sophie Arnauld_ Helen Robertson.
_The Gypsy Hag_ C. P. Flockton.
_Mlle. Le Grand_ Ruth Dennis.
_Mlle. Guinard_ Eleanor Stuart.
_Mme. le Dauphine_ { _Marie Antoinette_ } Helen Hale.
{ at sixteen }
_Marquise de Crenay_ Dora Goldthwaite.
_Duchesse d’Aiguillon_ Miss Lyn.
_Princesse Alixe_ Miss Leonard.
_Duchesse de Choisy_ Louise Morewin.
_Marquise de Langers_ May Montford.
_Comtesse de Marsen_ Edith Van Benthuysen.
_Sophia_ Irma Perry.
_Rosalie_ Helen Robertson.
_Cerisette_ Julie Lindsey.
_Jeannette Vaubernier_, { afterward } Mrs. Leslie Carter.
{ “_La du Barry_” }
RICHEPIN AND THE “DU BARRY” LAWSUIT.
After Belasco had rejected Richepin’s play about du Barry, returned the
manuscript of it to him, and announced that he would produce a play
about that celebrated favorite of royalty, written by himself, there was
much pother in theatrical circles and much newspaper parade of warnings
and threats, by Richepin and various of his agents, of the dire
consequences which would fall upon him for so doing. The once widely
known firm of lawyers, Howe & Hummel, were the American representatives
of the French Authors’ Society, which supported Richepin, and Mr. A.
Hummel,--who, 1905, was convicted of subornation of perjury, imprisoned
for one year on Blackwells Island, and debarred,--who was the active
member of that firm, on January 25, 1902, brought suit against Belasco,
[Illustration: MRS. LESLIE CARTER AS _DU BARRY_
Photograph by Sarony.
]
on behalf of the French author, alleging, substantially, that Belasco’s
“Du Barry” was, in fact, Richepin’s drama of similar name (“La du
Barry”) and demanding an accounting for the receipts from
representations of it. Belasco’s reply to the complaint in that suit was
served on March 4, 1902, and it was explicit and conclusive. In that
answer he specifies that on July 22, 1899, he entered into a contract
with M. Richepin, which that author obtained “by false and fraudulent
representations,” wherein he agreed to write for Belasco a “new and
original” play about du Barry, which was to be “entirely satisfactory to
this defendant [Belasco],”--failing which he was at liberty to reject
the work and return it to Richepin. Belasco, “relying upon the said
representations, statements, and promises, and not otherwise, and
believing the same to be true, paid to the plaintiff, on the signing and
execution of the agreement, the sum of $1,000”; and, on or about July 1,
1901, upon receiving from Richepin (in London, during the run of “Zaza”)
the manuscript, in French, of “La du Barry,” he paid $1,500 more. Of his
own play, “Du Barry,” Belasco swore that it is “wholly composed and
originated by this defendant, without any aid or assistance whatever
from the play alleged to have been written by” Richepin. The latter’s
play, Belasco pointed out, was “not new and original,” as required by
the contract between them, but was “taken, plagiarized, pirated, and
copied, by the plaintiff, from public sources and publications, common
and open to the public, and that the said play was wholly unsatisfactory
to him [Belasco], of which fact he notified the plaintiff, and that the
said manuscript was thereafter returned to, and accepted by, the
plaintiff.” A motion on behalf of Richepin to strike out these damaging
clauses from Belasco’s answer was made and argued before Justice
Freeman, in the Supreme Court, March 13,--Mr. Hummel maintaining that
the allegations of fraud and plagiarism by Richepin were “irrelevant and
redundant.” The motion was peremptorily denied,--after which the legal
ardor of the French poet and his agents cooled and his suit languished:
Richepin never proceeded in the case (which appears to have been an
effort to extort money from Belasco), and it was formally discontinued
in January, 1908.
Richepin’s play (called “Du Barri”) was produced by Mrs. Cora Urquhart
Potter, March 18, 1905, at the Savoy Theatre, London, and it was a
complete failure. “I had planned to take Mrs. Carter to London, in ‘Du
Barry,’” Belasco has told me, “but Mrs. Potter’s failure was so decisive
that I gave up all thought of attempting to do so.” Writing about the
“Du Barry” lawsuit, Belasco says: “Our quarrel was long and heated, but
eventually all was ‘forgotten and forgiven,’ and I could once more read
Richepin’s mellow poetry without tearing my hair, and Richepin said
publicly, ‘The rest is silence,’ or something as nearly like it as the
Frenchman _can_ say,”--which, truly, was most generous on the part of
“the Frenchman,” in view of the fact that, altogether, Belasco had paid
him $8,500 in a venture toward making which he had, at most, contributed
merely the suggestion of a subject.
A GRACIOUS TRIBUTE:--“REMEMBER THAT WE LOVED YOU.”
On the first day of the new year, 1902, Belasco was the recipient of a
gracious tribute which, as he feelingly said to me, is one of his most
cherished memories. The performance ended about half-past eleven on the
night of December 31, 1901, and a little before midnight all the members
of the company concerned in representation of his drama assembled on the
stage about Belasco, Mrs. Carter, and Charles A. Stevenson, ostensibly
to greet the new year. Just at midnight beautiful silver chimes slowly
rang out the hour, and as Belasco turned to wish the assembled company
a happy New Year Mr. Stevenson stepped forward before he could speak
and, uncovering a massive and beautiful loving-cup of silver set upon an
ebony pedestal, presented it to Belasco “as a token of the great esteem
and true affection with which, during the long and arduous preparation
of ‘Du Barry,’ every member of your organization has learned to regard
you.” Belasco, always warm-hearted and peculiarly susceptible to even
casual acts of courtesy and kindness, was so much affected by the
cordial feeling displayed by all about him in the conveyance of this
rich gift that for several moments he was unable to make any
acknowledgment. Then, speaking with difficulty and almost in a whisper,
he said: “I--I thank you, all--all--from my heart. It is very lovely.
You have worked so hard, with me and for me--all of you--so nobly and so
unselfishly that I feel it is _I_ who should give a loving-cup to
you--to every member of the company. In all my experience I have not
received a more generous, touching tribute--anything which I have
appreciated more. I am poor in words--I can only say to all of you thank
you, thank you, thank you--a thousand thousand times.”
As Belasco ceased speaking the orchestra began to play the air of
“Maryland, My Maryland,” passing
[Illustration: BELASCO, ABOUT 1902
Photograph by the Misses Selby. Belasco’s collection.
]
from that into other melodies associated with his successful plays and
closing with a plaintive tune written specially for use in “Du Barry.”
On the “Du Barry” loving-cup there are three inscriptions. The first is
Washington, D. C.
December 12, 1901
Mrs Leslie Carter in David Belasco’s Play “Du Barry”
The second is
Presented to
Mr. David Belasco by the Members of His Company
New Year’s, 1902
The third is a line from the play of “Du Barry”:
“Remember that we loved you; we loved you
through it all”
THE THEATRIC _RICHMOND_ “LOOKS PROUDLY O’ER THE CROWN.”
The upward progress which Belasco made in the Theatre within a period of
six years is amazing. When the curtain was raised for the first
performance of his “The Heart of Maryland,” at the Herald Square, in
October, 1895, he possessed almost nothing except his reputation as one
of the most skilful of stage managers and a copious crop of debts. When
the curtain fell on the last performance in 1901 of “Du Barry,” at the
Criterion, he was, as dramatist, director, and theatrical manager,
known, esteemed, and recognized throughout the English-speaking world:
his debts were all discharged: he possessed a competent fortune, hosts
of admirers, troops of friends: within less than three years he had made
three memorably successful presentments in the British capital (where
American ventures are supposed always to fail!): three of the most
accomplished and popular actors of the American Stage, Mrs. Carter,
Blanche Bates, and David Warfield, were under his direction and closely
bound to him. The whirligig of Time had indeed brought striking changes.
Lester Wallack, Edwin Booth, Lawrence Barrett, John McCullough--they
were but names in theatrical management. Augustin Daly, the great
representative manager of the Theatre in America, was dead. Albert M.
Palmer, once Daly’s rival, was obscurely employed as a “business agent”
for Richard Mansfield, while Mansfield’s own ambitious but ill-fated
essay in theatre management (at the Garrick, New York, in 1895) was
completely forgotten; Mansfield was definitely committed to the policy
of a “travelling star,” and the Theatre in New York was Charles
Frohman’s much vaunted Department Store. Mr. and Mrs. Harrison Grey
Fiske, at the Manhattan, were indeed maintaining an admirable dramatic
company and making an earnest endeavor in authentic theatrical
management. But, in general, the mean spirit of the petty huckster and
the sordid, selfish policy of trade monopoly dominated the American
Stage; the chair of artistic managerial sovereignty was empty, “the
sword unswayed, the empire unpossessed,” and Belasco, ambitiously
emulative of great exemplars in his vocation, like a theatric
_Richmond_, looked “proudly o’er the crown.” He was, unquestionably, the
natural successor to Wallack, Booth, and Daly; but in order to seize
their pre-eminence, to win and wear their laurel crown of leadership, he
required to have what they had each possessed,--namely, a theatre of his
own in the capital. There seemed no chance of his obtaining one: yet,
without such a citadel, notwithstanding all his labor and achievement,
he might easily be crushed: the oppressive hand of the Theatrical
Syndicate (in his estimation veritably a “wretched, bloody, and usurping
boar”) had already been laid heavily on Belasco: a half-interest in his
presentment of Warfield in “The Auctioneer” had been extorted from him
and an equal share in his exploitations of Mrs. Carter and Miss Bates
had been demanded, though not yielded up. What if he should be denied
“routes” for those players? He had brought out Mrs. Carter in “Du Barry”
at the Criterion not because he wished to do so,--that house, which
accommodated only 932 persons, being far too small for an advantageous
season,--but because it was the only theatre in New York which he could
secure. Charles Frohman was its manager and Charles Frohman was a member
of the Syndicate: the Criterion might be closed to him at the end of his
current contract. If shut off from the “first class theatres” of the
leading cities “on the road” and shut out of New York he would
practically be ruined. These and similar considerations gave grounds for
grave uneasiness to Belasco. On the afternoon of January 7, 1902, he was
alone in his office, a little room in Carnegie Hall, as he had been
every afternoon for more than a week, seeking to devise some means of
obtaining control of a New York theatre for a term of years. Toward
evening he was disturbed by a knocking at the office door. His visitor,
when admitted, proved to be the theatrical manager Oscar Hammerstein,
between whom and himself there existed merely a casual acquaintance.
“Mr. Belasco,” said Hammerstein, without any preliminaries, “the
Theatrical Syndicate is trying to crush me out of business. Valuable
attractions have been prevented from patronizing my houses this season.
I must have attractions. You must have a New York theatre, or you will
find yourself helpless. I have one in Forty-second Street, the Republic,
which I am willing to turn over to you. I have come up here on an
impulse, on the chance that you may be willing to take over control of
the Republic.” Belasco instantly replied: “Mr. Hammerstein, I shall be
very glad to take over your theatre.” In less than a week all details of
agreement had been arranged between the two managers, and on January 14,
in the office of Judge A. J. Dittenhoefer, they signed a contract
whereby Belasco undertook the management of the Republic Theatre. That
contract was for a period of five years, with an option of renewal by
Belasco for another five years, and under it he assumed full government
of the theatre,--engaging himself to pay to Hammerstein a rental of
$30,000 a year and 10 per cent. of the gross receipts from all
performances given there. It was also stipulated that neither Mrs.
Carter, Blanche Bates, David Warfield, nor any other “star or
attraction” under Belasco’s management should play at any other New York
theatre, “except for one week each at the Harlem Opera House and the
Grand Opera House.” “That lease,” Belasco has declared to me, “was a
great thing for Hammerstein,--but it was a greater thing for me, and I
did not forget that afterward, when I was paying him from $60,000 to
$72,000 a year for his theatre. When some of my friends used to say to
me, ‘Don’t you realize that you are paying Hammerstein an _unheard-of_
rent for his house?’ I used to answer, ‘And don’t _you_ realize how very
lucky I am _to be in a position_ to pay him an unheard-of rent?’”
A DANGEROUS ACCIDENT.--ALTERING THE REPUBLIC.
A few weeks subsequent to signing the lease of the Republic Theatre with
Hammerstein Belasco met with an accident which came near to putting an
end to all his projects by causing his death. On the night of March 16
he witnessed a performance of his “Du Barry,” at the Criterion. While
the setting was being placed for the last scene--a cumbrous, intricate
setting, in which he took special interest--he left his box in the
auditorium and went upon the stage to direct the work. As he did so a
large and heavy cornice which was being swung into position high in air
broke and fell, striking him full upon the head. Another piece of
scenery, thrown out of balance by the falling cornice, collapsed, and
in a moment Belasco was buried beneath a mass of tangled wreckage. He
was with difficulty extricated, unconscious and profusely bleeding. A
physician was called, who, after a quarter of an hour, having stanched
the bleeding, succeeded in restoring the injured manager to
consciousness. It was at first feared that he had sustained a fracture
of the skull, but happily he was found to be suffering only from shock
and loss of blood due to a severe scalp wound. He was removed to his
home and within a few days he had regained his usual health.
After carefully examining the interior of the Republic Theatre Belasco
became convinced that it required to be altered for his use. “The stage
was wrong, the house was wrong, and the colors set my teeth on edge,” he
has told me. Hammerstein was willing that he should make any changes he
desired. Belasco, accordingly, took possession of the theatre at about
the end of March and, on April 19, 1902, the work of altering it so as
to make it conform to his wishes was begun. He started that work
intending to spend from $15,000 to $20,000 on improvements. When it was
finished he had expended more than $150,000. The whole interior of the
building was torn out, leaving nothing but four walls and part of the
roof. Toward the front of the property a space was blasted out of solid
rock wherein, beneath the auditorium, were built a retiring-room for
women and a smoking-room for men. A sub-stage chamber, more than
twenty-five feet deep, was also blasted out of the rock,--incidental to
which excavation a perpetual spring of water was tapped. Talking with me
about his experience in remodelling the Republic Theatre, Belasco, in
his characteristically cheery and philosophical way, said: “I remember
your telling me about the trouble Edwin Booth got into, blasting out a
ledge of rock when he was building his theatre [Booth’s Theatre,
Twenty-third Street and Sixth Avenue, 1868-’69], but I don’t believe he
had half as bad a time as we did when that spring broke loose! I was so
crazy about having my own theatre I wanted to have a hand in everything
and I used to go down and fire some of the blasts, in spite of the
protests of my family and staff, who expected I’d blow myself to Kingdom
Come. And it was _I_ who fired the charge that started that spring! My
boys in the theatre used to call me ‘Moses’ after that, for that I did
smite the rock and there came water out of it. We _damned_ it, heartily,
I can tell you, but it was a long time before we could get it _dammed_,
and it cost me a small fortune to have the stage cavity cemented in.”
[Illustration:
Photograph by Byron. Belasco’s Collection.
BELASCO’S “STUDIO” IN THE FIRST BELASCO THEATRE]
One day, during the work of alteration, a stranger presented himself to
Belasco, demanding that he be permitted to inspect the property and
explaining that he held a mortgage on it. “I had nothing to do with the
mortgage,” Belasco told me; “that was Mr. Hammerstein’s business; but I
let him come in. He surveyed the scene of devastation with horror,
standing on a scaffold, high up, and gazing into the black pit. ‘God
above me!’ he exclaimed, after a little while, ‘I’ve got a mortgage on
four walls and a hole in the ground!’--and he fled. I never saw him
again.”
THE FIRST BELASCO THEATRE.
The work of demolishing and rebuilding the Republic for Belasco was
performed in five months. When it was completed he possessed one of the
handsomest and best equipped playhouses in the world. “The theatre,”
Belasco has often said, “is, first of all, a place for the _acting of
plays_.” That simple statement might be deemed a platitude, were it not
for the striking fact that its maker is the _only_ theatrical manager of
the present day who practically recognizes its truth: to the majority of
other managers the theatre, it seems, is, primarily, a place for almost
anything rather than _acting_,--is, in fact, first of all, a place for
the exploitation of their tedious conceit and the making of money by any
means. The stage of the Belasco Theatre was designed and built with the
purpose of obviating the disadvantages of restricted space and of
affording every possible mechanical aid to the acting of plays. The
entire “acting surface” of that stage--the entire surface, that is,
which could be revealed to the view of the spectators,--was a mosaic of
close-fitting trapdoors, so that on occasion it might be opened at any
place desired. In the centre of the stage was “an elevator,”--that is,
in fact, a movable platform,--fifteen feet wide and thirty feet long.
Upon this platform, when it had been lowered into the cellar cavity,
were placed the paraphernalia required in the setting of the
scenes,--articles technically designated as “properties” (furniture,
etc.), and “set pieces” (solid, heavy parts of scenic rooms, houses,
etc.)--which were then raised to the stage level for use: when done
with, these paraphernalia were sunk again into the cellarage, where the
platform bearing them was shifted aside and another similar one, loaded
with material for the next setting, replaced it and was in turn raised
to the stage.
The drops (painted cloths), ceilings, etc., were all arranged for
hoisting into the flies, as in most modern theatres; but Belasco had
the ropes by which these articles were raised from his stage so attached
to counterweights and cranks that one man could, with ease, raise pieces
which, in former times, it had required from three to six men to hoist.
The footlights were so arranged that the light from them was diffused
upon the stage and players without the spectators, even those in the
upper stage boxes, being able to perceive whence it came. The electric
lamps in the footlights, borders, etc., were placed in small, individual
compartments, so that no unintentional blending of lights could occur:
but every necessary different color of lamp was provided and all the
lamps in the house, whether upon the stage or in the auditorium, were
connected “on resistance,”--that is, so connected with the electric
current feed wires that the lights could be (as invariably they were)
turned up or down, as required, gently, by degrees. In short, every
arrangement that knowledge, experience, and prevision could suggest as
necessary and that liberality, ingenuity, and care could devise was
provided. “I have an even better electrical equipment in my present
theatre than I had in my first house,” Belasco has said to me, “and I am
proud of it. But in my first house I had the very best there was in the
world at the time. I had a plant that would have lit a palace: in fact,
I very much doubt whether there was a palace anywhere in all the world
as well equipped in the matter of lighting.”
Belasco’s first theatre contained seating accommodation for 950
persons,--300 in the gallery, 200 in the balcony, and 450 on the
orchestra, or main, floor. No effort or expense was spared to make the
house in every way comfortable and delightful to all who visited it.
Outside, in front, a massive iron marquee-awning shadowed the main
entrance, overhanging the street-walk out to the curb. The doors of the
theatre were of heavy wrought iron and opened into a lobby which was, in
fact, a sort of reception hall. The walls and ceilings of this lobby
were sheathed in oak panelling of antique finish, and large, luxurious
seats of heavy oak, upholstered in leather, were placed at each end of
it. Across the rear of the auditorium, on the orchestra floor, close to
the hindermost row of seats, extended a massive screen built of
rosewood, with heavy crystal lights, to protect the audience within from
drafts of air and to exclude street sounds. The colors of the
decorations were reds, greens, and deep golden browns,--all used in
warm, subdued shades. The rear and side walls were hung with rich
tapestries, depicting an autumnal forest. The
[Illustration:
Photograph by Byron. Author’s Collection.
BELASCO IN HIS STUDIO AT THE FIRST BELASCO THEATRE]
floors were covered with heavy, soft, dark-green velvet carpets. The
seats were upholstered in silk tapestry of a complementary shade of
silver-green color, and on the back of each of them was embroidered the
semblance of a bee,--fit emblem of Belasco’s energetic, ceaseless toil.
The ceiling and dome were handsomely decorated in dull gold, sparingly
used, with soft grays and rose. There were two drop curtains,--one of
heavy, rose-colored velvet; the other an old-fashioned one of plain
green baize. Every detail of the architecture and decorations was
delicate and harmonious, and the general effect was at once opulent and
restful. The architects employed by Belasco were Messrs. Bigelow, Wallis
& Cotton, of New York: the director was Mr. Rudolph Allen. But the
active inspiration of all this beauty and luxury provided for the public
enjoyment, the conglutinating and executive force which in the face of
manifold dissensions and difficulties held all the associate laborers
together and drove through to successful completion all the varied work
of invention and reconstruction, was Belasco himself. At last he had
carried bricks for himself to some lasting purpose! When he opened his
playhouse it was in every detail as well as in every essential a new
theatre, veritably the creation of _his_ mind and will, and he very
appropriately dropped the name of the Republic and called it The
Belasco Theatre.
“AFTER THIRTY YEARS OF LABOR.”--BELASCO IN HIS OWN THEATRE;--THE OPENING
NIGHT.
The first Belasco Theatre was opened on Monday night, September 29,
1902, with a revival of “Du Barry.” The night was sultry, but the house
was crowded, in every part, far beyond its normal capacity; the
performance was one of remarkable fluency, vigor, and intensity, and it
was received by the audience with well-nigh frantic manifestations of
enthusiasm. After the Third Act there were more than twenty curtain
calls, and finally, in response to vociferous crying for him by name,
Belasco came upon the stage, dishevelled, pale, and weary, but very
happy, and addressed the audience, saying:
“Ladies and Gentlemen: It is so hard for me to speak to you as I
would wish. There is so much to say, yet so little that I can say.
It is your kind sympathy and approval that have made this little
playhouse possible. I owe you--the public--far, far more than I can
tell. You all know that it has been my life-work, my greatest
ambition, to give you the best I could. In this I can honestly say
I have not faltered since I first knocked at your door,
[Illustration: DAVID BELASCO
Photograph by the Misses Selby.
Author’s Collection.
]
many years ago. And in that endeavor I stand firm to-night. I thank
the friends who have upheld me so loyally all these many years. I
thank the press for the encouragement I have received. There are
some very beautiful things in the lives of those I have followed,
and one of these is the fellowship of brother workers. I am always
inspired, I always shall be inspired, by the memory and example of
three inimitable comrades of the Theatre,--one the late Lester
Wallack, another the late, lamented Augustin Daly, and yet another
who is still with us, who has given the best years of his life to
advance the art which both you and I love so well: I refer to Mr.
A. M. Palmer. They fought the good fight, these three; they kept
the faith. They gave us glorious traditions to remember and live up
to. They gave all to advance the highest. This is something we must
never forget.
“Ladies and gentlemen, there is another of whom I must make some
mention--one whose sympathy and help have contributed to my being
here to-night. I mean my friend and companion in work, Mrs. Leslie
Carter. Here and now I wish gratefully to acknowledge the debt of
her services, her unselfishness and loyalty in time of many
struggles.
“I have many plans for this little theatre, ladies and gentlemen.
Let me say just a word to you about the managerial policy. I am
anxious to make my patrons feel at home when they honor me by
coming, and so I have tried to make your surroundings in front of
the curtain those of a comfortable, home-like drawing-room. I
intend that the productions and casts shall be the best that work
and care can provide. In all ways I desire to make this new
dramatic home of ours a dwelling of refinement, good taste, good
entertainment, and good art. No stone shall be left unturned, no
effort unmade, to accomplish that end. You cannot know what it
means to me to speak to you, at last, after thirty years of labor
in the dramatic calling, from the stage of my own theatre. Ladies
and gentlemen, I thank you--I thank you--I can say no more.”
THE FIRST PROGRAMME.
The following is the programme, in detail, of the first performance
given in Belasco’s Theatre on what was, in many ways, the happiest and
proudest night of all his life:
BELASCO THEATRE
_BROADWAY AND FORTY-SECOND STREET_
UNDER THE SOLE MANAGEMENT OF DAVID BELASCO
* * * * *
_Evenings at 8 precisely_ _Matinees Saturdays at 2_
* * * * *
DAVID BELASCO
_PRESENTS_
Mrs. Leslie Carter
_IN HIS NEW PLAY_
“DU BARRY”
“_Not the great historical events, but the personal incidents that call up
single, sharp pictures of some human being in its pang or struggle, reach
us more nearly._”--OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES.
CAST
_King Louis the Fifteenth_ of France C. A. Stevenson.
_Comte Jean du Barry_, eventually brother-in-law
of _La du Barry_ Campbell Gollan.
_Comte Guillaume du Barry_, his brother Beresford Webb.
_Duc de Brissac_, Capt. of King’s Guard Henry Weaver, Sr.
_Cossé-Brissac_, his son (of the King’s Guard),
known as “_Cossé_” Hamilton Revelle.
_The Papal Nuncio_ H. R. Roberts.
} Under {
_Duc de Richelieu_, Marshal of France } _King Louis_ { Geo. Barnum.
_Maupeou_, Lord Chancellor } _the_ { C. P. Flockton.
_Terray_, Minister of Finance } _Fifteenth_ { H. G. Carlton.
_Duc D’Aiguillon_ Leonard Cooper.
_Denys_, porter at the milliner shop Claude Gillingwater.
_Lebel_, confidential valet to His Majesty Herbert Millward.
_M. Labille_, proprietor of the milliner shop Gilmore Scott.
_Vaubernier_, father of _Jeannette_ Charles Campbell.
_Scarlo_, one of “_La du Barry’s_” Nubian servants J. D. Jones.
_Zamore_, a plaything of “_La du Barry’s_” Master Sams.
_Flute Player_ A. Joly.
_Valroy_ } Of the { Douglas J. Wood.
_D’Allaire_ } _King’s_ Guard { Louis Myll.
_De Courcel_ } { Harold Howard.
_La Garde_ } Two Tavern { W. T. Bune.
_Fontenelle_ } Roysterers { Thomas Boone.
_Benard_, one of the “Hundred Swiss” Warren Deven.
_Citizen Grieve_, of the Committee of Public Safety Gaston Mervale.
_Marac_, one of the Sans-Culottes James Sargeant.
_Denisot_, Judge of the Revolutionary Court H. G. Carlton.
_Tavernier_, clerk of the court John Ingram.
_Gomard_ Charles Hayne.
_Hortense_, Manageress for _Labille_ the milliner Eleanor Carey.
_Lolotte_ } { Nina Lyn.
_Manon_ } Girls { Florence St. Leonard.
_Julie_ } at the { Corah Adams.
_Leonie_ } Milliner’s { Blanche Sherwood.
_Nichette_ } Shop { Ann Archer.
_Juliette_ } { May Lyn.
_Marquise du Quesnoy_, known as “_La Gourdan_,”
keeper of a gambling house Blanche Rice.
_Sophie Arnauld_, queen of the opera Miss Robertson.
_The Gypsy Hag_, a fortune-teller C. P. Flockton.
_Mlle. Le Grand_ } Dancers from the { Ruth Dennis.
_Mlle. Guimard_ } Grand Opera { Eleanor Stuart.
_Mme. La Dauphine_--_Marie Antoinette_ at sixteen Helen Hale.
_Marquise de Crenay_ } { Helen Robertson.
_Duchesse D’Aiguillon_ } Ladies { Miss Lyn.
_Princesse Alixe_ } of { Miss Leonard.
_Duchesse de Choisy_ } _King Louis_ { Louise Morewin.
_Marquise de Langers_ } Court { May Montford.
_Comtesse de Marsen_ } { Grace Van Benthuysen.
_Sophie_, a maid Irma Perry.
_Rosalie_, of the Concièrgerie Helen Robertson.
_Cerisette_ Julie Lindsey.
AND
_JEANNETTE VAUBERNIER_, afterwards _La du
Barry_ MRS. LESLIE CARTER.
* * * * *
Guests of the Fête, Dancers from the Opera, King’s Guardsmen, Monks,
Clowns, Pages, Milliners, Sentries, Lackeys, Footmen, King’s Secret
Police, Sans-Culottes, a Mock King, a Mock Herald, a Drunken Patriot, a
Cocoa Vender, Federals, National Guards, Tricoteuses.
* * * * *
SYNOPSIS OF SCENES.
Act I.--The Milliner’s Shop in the Rue St. Honoré, Paris.
_JEANNETTE_ TRIMS HATS.
Act II.--(One month later.) _Jeannette’s_ Apartments, adjoining
the Gambling Rooms of the _Marquise de
Quesnoy_ (“La Gourdan”).
“THE GAME CALLED DESTINY.”
Act III.--(A year later.) _Du Barry_ holds a Petit-Lever in
the Palace of Versailles--at noon.
“THE DOLL OF THE WORLD.”
Act IV.--Scene 1. In the Royal Gardens. Before the dawn
of the following morning.
“FOLLY, QUEEN OF FRANCE.”
Scene 2. Within the Tent.
“THE HEART OF THE WOMAN.”
Act V.--(A lapse of years.) During the Revolution.
Scene 1. The Retreat in the Woods of Louveciennes.
“FATE CREEPS IN AT THE DOOR.”
Scene 2. (Five days later.) In Paris again.
“A REED SHAKEN IN THE WIND.”
Scene 3. In Front of the Milliner’s Shop on the
same day.
“Once more we pass this way again,
Once more! ’T is where at first we met.”
* * * * *
Time: Period of King Louis the Fifteenth and after the reign of his
Successor.
Place: Paris, Versailles, and Louveciennes.
* * * * *
Mr. Belasco wishes to state that, as the traditional parting of Madame
du Barry and the King of France is impossible for dramatic use, he has
departed entirely from historical accuracy in this instance. He also
begs to acknowledge his indebtedness to M. Arsène Houssaye for his
sequence of scenes. (“Nouvelle à la main, sur la Comtesse du Barry.”)
* * * * *
Between Acts I, II, and III there will be intervals of 12 minutes;
between Acts IV and V an interval of 15 minutes.
* * * * *
The entire production under the personal supervision of Mr. Belasco.
* * * * *
Stage Manager H. S. MILLWARD.
* * * * *
Scenery by Mr. Ernest Gros.
* * * * *
Incidental Music by Mr. William Furst.
* * * * *
Stage decorations and accessories after designs by Mr. Wilfred Buckland.
* * * * *
General Manager for Mr. Belasco MR. B. F. ROEDER.
* * * * *
As an epigraph for the first performance given in his theatre, and also
for a souvenir book then distributed,--a richly printed volume called
“The Story of Du Barry,” written by James L. Ford and issued in a
limited edition,--Belasco used, under the caption “Before the Curtain,”
the appended fourteen lines from Francis Bret Harte’s versified address
written for the dedication of the California Theatre, San Francisco,
January 18, 1869, on which occasion (when Belasco was among the
spectators) it was read by Lawrence Barrett:
“Brief words, when actions wait, are well;
The prompter’s hand is on his bell;
The coming heroes, lovers, kings,
Are idly lounging at the wings;
Behind the curtain’s mystic fold
The glowing future lies unrolled.
* * * * *
“One moment more: if here we raise
The oft-sung hymn of local praise,
Before the curtain facts must sway;
Here waits the moral of your play.
Glassed in the poet’s thought, you view
What money can, yet can not do;
The faith that soars, the deeds that shine,
Above the gold that builds the shrine.”
A STUPID DISPARAGEMENT.--INCEPTION OF “THE DARLING OF THE GODS.”
Among the meanest and most stupid disparagements of Belasco which I have
chanced to notice in recent years is one made by Mr. Albert Bigelow
Paine, the adulatory biographer of Samuel L. Clemens (Mark Twain). In
recording a conversation which he says he had with Clemens Mr. Paine
writes: “‘I suppose,’ I said, ‘the literary man should have a
collaborator with a genius for stage mechanism. John Luther Long’s
_exquisite plays_ would hardly have been successful without David
Belasco to stage them. _Belasco cannot write a play himself_, but in the
matter of acting construction his genius is supreme.’” (The italics are
mine.--W. W.) Remembering that Belasco is, among many other things, the
author of “May Blossom,” “The Heart of Maryland,” “The Girl of the
Golden West,” “Peter Grimm,” and “Van der Decken,” it seems to me that
Mr. Paine has, in that sapient comment, provided for thoughtful persons
a useful measure of his intelligence. Furthermore, his disparagement of
Belasco as a writer of plays suggests that it is competent, in this
Memoir, to inquire as to what, precisely, are the “exquisite plays” of
John Luther Long, one of Belasco’s collaborators in authorship. Mr. Long
is a fiction writer of talent, which has been widely and generously
recognized. His name is associated with six plays and no more,--namely,
“Madame Butterfly,” “The Darling of the Gods,” “Dolce,” “Adrea,” “The
Dragon Fly,” and “Kassa.” “Madame Butterfly,” as a play, is,
exclusively, the work of Belasco: it was written and produced before he
and Long met. “Kassa” is a commonplace farrago of theatrical absurdity,
rant, and miscellaneous trash, tangled into a mesh of sacerdotal
trappings and fantastic, complex, and dubious Hungarian embellishments
and is as devoid of literary merit as it is of dramatic vitality. It was
produced by Mrs. Leslie Carter, in 1909, after she had ceased to act
under the direction of Belasco, and it was a failure. “The Dragon Fly”
was written by Long in association with Mr. E. C. Carpenter, was
produced in Philadelphia, in 1905, and was a failure. “Dolce” has not
been acted or published and I know nothing about it. As to “The Darling
of the Gods” and “Adrea,”--not only did Belasco “stage” those plays
(that is, produce them), but he is at least as much _their author_ as
Mr. Long is; a fact which I venture to assume that Mr. Long would be the
last to deny.
“The Darling of the Gods” owes its existence wholly to Belasco. When he
had leased the Republic Theatre and while he was preparing to undertake
its renovation he also began to plan his managerial campaign there. In a
letter he writes:
(_David Belasco to William Winter._)
“...It was a strenuous, anxious time for me. I had so many things
to think of and so much to do that sometimes I felt like that man
in Dickens who tries to lift himself out of his difficulties by his
own hair! I saw that I was to be forced to fight for my
professional life--and I wasn’t ready. The public had been taught,
season by season, to expect always more and more from the actor,
the author, and, especially, the producer. The standard of
production was so high that the theatre-goer looked not only for
great acting but also for artistic perfection and beauty in the
stage settings. The progressive manager was forced to invest
immense sums in his stars and productions, and it was because I did
this without hesitation that I was so unpopular with some of my
contemporaries. According to them I “spoiled the public” because I
looked _first_ to the artistic instead of to the commercial
result.”
Belasco had for several years prior to 1902 desired to present Mrs.
Carter in a series of Shakespearean and classical plays which, as he
wrote to me in that year, “have long been in her repertory but in which
I have never yet had the opportunity of bringing her out.” Mrs. Carter
was then the principal player under his management: it was both justice
to her and sound business judgment for him to open his new theatre with
a performance in which she was the star. It would indeed have been a
brilliant achievement for him to have opened it with a superb revival of
one of Shakespeare’s great plays. But, on the other hand, theatrical
management,--although, rightly understood, it entails, first of all, a
moral and intellectual obligation to the public,--is a venturesome
business, not an altruistic amusement: Belasco had invested more than
$98,000 in making his presentment of “Du Barry”: it, plainly, was
necessary to earn with that drama at least the cost of producing it
before he could bring forth Mrs. Carter in another play. And it was
obvious that while he could impressively open his new theatre with a
sumptuous revival of that popular success it could not advantageously
hold the stage there for more than a month or two and that he must have
another striking dramatic novelty ready in hand with which to follow the
revival. Among the many plays which Belasco wrote and rewrote during the
strolling days of his youth is a melodrama entitled “Il Carabiniere,”
which he called “The Carbineer.” The scenes and characters of that old
play are Italian. Belasco resolved to refashion it for the use of
Blanche Bates. But the multifarious demands on his time and strength
made it necessary for him to have assistance in performing this task,
and remembering the success of Miss Bates in his Japanese tragedy of
“Madame Butterfly” he altered his purpose and determined to base on the
old Italian tale a romance of Japan, and he proposed to John Luther
Long,--well versed in Japanese customs,--that he should help him in the
work. This proposal was accepted; the manuscript of “The Carbineer” was
turned over to Long, and, about February, 1902, the collaborators began
their work on the play which afterward became famous under the name of
“The Darling of the Gods.” That play is practically a new one, not an
adaptation: the labor of writing it was finished in June, and it was
produced for the first time anywhere, November 17, 1902, at the New
National Theatre, Washington, D. C.: on December 3, following, it was
acted for the first time in New York, at the Belasco Theatre, where it
succeeded “Du Barry,” which had been acted there for the last time on
November 29. This was the original cast of “The Darling of the Gods”:
_Prince Saigon_ Charles Walcot.
_Zakkuri_, Minister of War George Arliss.
_Kara_ Robert T. Haines.
_Tonda-Tanji_ Albert Bruning.
_Sir Yuke-Yume_ James W. Shaw.
_Lord Chi-Chi_ Edward Talford.
_Admiral Tano_ Cooper Leonard.
_Hassebe Soyemon_ Warren Milford.
_Kato_ J. Harry Benrimo.
_Shusshoo_ F. Andrews.
_Inu_, a Corean Giant Harrison Armstrong.
_Yoban_ Carleton Webster.
_Crier of the Night Hours_ Charles Ingram.
_Kugo_ } { Maurice Pike.
_Shiba_ } { E. P. Wilks.
_Migaku_ } The seven spies { Rankin Duvall.
_Kojin_ } of _Zakkuri_ { Arthur Garnell.
_Ato_ } { Joseph Tuohy.
_Tcho_ } { Winthrop Chamberlain.
_Taro_ } { John Dunton.
_Man in the Lantern_ Westropp Saunders.
_The Imperial Messenger_ F. A. Thomson.
_First Secretary_ Legrand Howland.
_Second Secretary_ A. D. Richards.
_Banza_ } { Gaston Mervale.
_Nagoya_ } { Albert Bruning.
_Tori_ } { Fred’k A. Thomson.
_Korin_ } { Rankin Duvall.
_Bento_ } _Kara’s_ “Two-sword { J. Harry Benrimo.
_Kosa_ } Men” { Richard Warner.
_Takoro_ } { John Dunton.
_Kaye_ } { Arthur Garnell.
_Nagoji_ } { A. D. Richards.
_Jutso_ } { Dexter Smith.
[Illustration:
Photograph by Byron. Belasco’s Collection.
A SCENE FROM “THE DARLING OF THE GODS”
“_The Feast of a Thousand Welcomes_”]
_Little Sano_ Madge West.
_Chidori_ Mrs. Charles Walcot.
_Rosy Sky_ Eleanor Moretti.
_Setsu_ Ada Lewis.
_Kaede_ Dorothy Revell.
_Madame Asani_ France Hamilton.
_The Fox Woman_ Mrs. F. M. Bates.
_Isamu_ May Montford.
_Niji-Onna_ Helen Russell.
_Nu_ Madeleine Livingston.
_Princess Yo-San_ Blanche Bates.
_Gentlemen of Rank_, Messrs. Redmund, Stevens, Dunton, Smith, Meehan,
Richards, Shaw, Chamberlain and Shaw.
_Geisha Girls_, Misses Winard, Karle, Vista, Mardell, Coleman and Ellis.
_Singing Girls_, Misses Livingston, Mirien and Earle.
Heralds from the Emperor, maids-in-waiting to the Princess, screen
bearers, Kago men, coolies, retainers, runners, servants, geisha,
musume, priests, lantern bearers, banner bearers, incense bearers, gong
bearers, jugglers, acrobats, torturers, carp flyers, Imperial soldiers
and _Zakkuri’s_ musket-men.
THE PLAY AND THE PERFORMANCE OF “THE DARLING OF THE GODS.”
The tragic drama of “The Darling of the Gods” is an excellent play, one
of exceptional power and ethical significance. It is a unique fabric of
fancy, wildly romantic, rich and strange with unusual characters, lively
with incident, occasionally mystical with implication of Japanese
customs and religious beliefs, opulent with an Oriental splendor of
atmosphere and detail, like that of Beckford’s romance of
“Vathek,”--fragrant with sweetness,--like Moore’s “Lalla Rookh,”--busy
with movement, effective by reason of situation, and communicative of a
love story of enchaining interest and melancholy beauty. That story is
told in continuous, cumulative action,--each successive dramatic event
being stronger than its predecessors in the element of suspense; and at
the climax there is a weird picture of supernatural environment, a
thrilling suggestion of the eternity of spiritual life and personal
identity,--a poetic symbolism, at once pathetic and sublime, of the
glory and ecstasy, the supreme triumph, of faithful love.
The story of _Yo-San_, the heroine of that play, who is designated “the
darling of the gods,” separated from all adjuncts and accessories, is
simple. She is a princess in Japan, betrothed to a Japanese courtier
whom she does not wish to wed. She has stipulated, as a preliminary
condition of their marriage, that the courtier must prove his valor by
capturing a certain formidable outlaw, _Prince Kara_, who, on being
captured, will be put to death. She has been saved from fatal dishonor
through the expeditious courage and promptitude of that outlaw
(unrecognized by her as such), and on seeing each other they become
lovers. _Kara_ pledges himself to appear at the palace of her father, at
a “feast of a thousand welcomes” to be held in his honor, there to
receive that parent’s thanks. Thither he comes, passing through the
guards of _Zakkuri_, the dreaded _War Minister of Japan_, but sustaining
a desperate hurt in doing so. _Yo-San_, when her lover, wounded and
almost dying, has failed to make his escape from the precincts of the
palace through a cordon of enemies, conceals him in her dwelling, and
for many days she tends him, till his wounds are healed, and then, for a
time, those lovers are happy in their secret love. The girl is, however,
compromised by this indiscretion, and when presently her father, _Prince
Saigon_, discovers her secret,--and, as he thinks, her dishonor,--she is
declared an outcast; and her lover (taken prisoner while attempting to
fight his way to freedom) is doomed to torture and death. She is
compelled to gaze upon him as, stupefied with opium, he is led down into
a chamber of infernal torment. Then she is apprised that she can secure
his life and liberty by betraying the hiding place of her lover’s outlaw
followers, and in desperate agony she does betray them: but she gains
nothing by that action except an access of misery. _Prince Kara_,
surprised with his band by soldiers of the _War Minister_, having, with
a few of his followers, fought his way through the lines of his enemies
and discovered that the secret of their hiding place, confided by him to
_Yo-San_, has been by her revealed, commits suicide in the honorable
Japanese manner, and she is left alone, with only his forgiveness as a
comfort, and with the hope that,--after a thousand years of loneliness
and grief, in the underworld of shadows,--she will be again united with
him in the eternal happiness of heaven. The play shows _Yo-San_ as an
innocent, confiding, pathetic figure, a child-woman, passing amid stormy
vicissitude, cruel temptation, and afflicting trials to a forlorn and
agonized death by suicide, and leaves her at the last, redeemed and
transfigured, on the verge of Paradise, where _Kara_ stretches out his
arms to embrace her, and where there is neither trouble nor parting nor
sorrow any more.
The experience of this Japanese girl is the old ordeal over again, of
woman’s sacrifice and anguish, when giving all for love. Something of
Shakespeare’s _Juliet_ is in that heroine, something of Goethe’s
_Margaret_, something of the many passionate, wayward, mournfully
beautiful ideals of woman’s sacrifice that are immortal in story and
song. She is a loving and sorrowing woman, true, tender, faithful
forever, and celestial alike in her
[Illustration: BLANCHE BATES AS THE _PRINCESS YO-SAN_, IN “THE DARLING
OF THE GODS”
Photograph by Livingston Platt.
Belasco’s Collection.
]
love, her temptation, and her grief. The character of _Yo-San_ combines
some of the finest components of womanhood and, indeed, exemplifies
virtues such as redeem the frailty of human nature--purity of heart and
life, true love, endurance, heroism of conduct, and devoted integrity of
spiritual faith. Blanche Bates gained the greatest success of her
professional career by her impersonation of _Yo-San_. She was an
entirely lovely image of ardent, innocent, ingenuous, noble
womanhood--such an image as irresistibly allured by piquant simplicity,
thrilled the imagination by an impartment of passionate vitality, and by
its exemplification of eternal constancy in love,--the immortal fidelity
of the spirit,--captured the heart. Her facility of action and fluency
of expression were continuously spontaneous, and she was delightful both
to see and to hear. Indeed, the acting of Miss Bates, which, from the
first of her performances on the New York Stage, had shown a charming
wildness and freedom, was, in the character of _Yo-San_, more
unconventional than ever. Her appearance was beautiful, her action
graceful, alert, vigorous, and free from all restraint of
self-consciousness and finical prudery. The clear, keen, healthful north
wind was suggested by it, the reckless dash of a mid-ocean wave, the
happy sea-bird’s flight. There was no ostentation about it, no parade,
no assumption of the moral mentor. Her personation of Belasco’s _Juliet_
of Japan came in a time of dreary “problems,” “sermons,” “lessons,”
“arguments,” “symbols,” and the flatulent nonsense of siccorized novels
and dirty farces, and it came as a relief and a blessing--the authentic
representative of youth, health, strength, love, and hope.
There is one moment in “The Darling of the Gods” when suspense is
wrought to a point of intense tension, and when the inherent, essential
faculty of an actor, the power to reveal almost in a flash the feeling
of the heart and the working of the mind, is imperatively required. It
is when _Kara_, wounded, exhausted, desperate, has sought refuge in the
dwelling of the _Princess Yo-San_ and, by her, has been succored and
concealed. _Migaku_, _the Shadow_, a spy of the terrible _War Minister_,
_Zakkuri_, has traced him to that refuge, but a devoted guardian of
_Yo-San_, _Inu_, a Corean giant, has detected the presence of the spy,
has seized and slain him, and has hidden the body in a stream. _Zakkuri_
and the father of _Yo-San_ follow the spy, and come to the dwelling of
_Yo-San_. _Zakkuri_ wishes that it be searched, but he agrees to accept
her oath, if she will give it, that she knows nothing of the whereabouts
of _Kara_. The _Princess_ is summoned and, denying the presence of
_Kara_, is required by her father to swear that she has spoken the
truth. Words can faintly indicate the beauty of the picture and action
which follow, as the girl seeks to protect her lover. The time is night.
The scene is a strange, fantastic, fairy-like garden of old Japan, a
bower of flowers with twining wistaria wreathing the trees and houses,
and, far, far off, visible in the silver moonlight, a great snow-capped
volcano, the peak of which is touched with ruddy light. The father and
the dreaded _Minister of War_ stand before the door. Miss Bates, as
_Yo-San_, stood a little above them, dressed in soft, flowing white
garments, open at the throat, her black hair loose about her face and
shoulders, her beautiful dark eyes suffused with a fascinating
expression of innocence, tranquillity, and tenderness. Without a moment
of hesitation, on being required to take the most solemn of oaths, she,
with sweetly reverential dignity, raised a bowl of burning incense and,
holding it before her, spoke, in a voice of perfect music: “Before
Shaka, God of Life and Death,--to whom my word goes up on this
incense,--I swear, hanging my life on the answer, I have not seen this
Kara!” Then, as the discomfited searchers withdrew, she stood a moment,
in the soft light streaming upon her from within the house, and, gazing
after them, added, looking upward, “It is better to lie a little than to
be unhappy much!” If she had done nothing else,--though the remainder of
her professional life should be barren,--that single moment stamped her
as a great actress.
It is, in any time, a noble achievement--one too much praised in words,
too little sought in deeds--to bring home and make vital to the human
heart the sanctity and beauty of love. The actor who does this can do no
more. Pictorial art upon the stage attains to a marvellous height when
it presents such a scene as that of the River of Souls and the reunion
of long-sundered souls, in this romantic, imaginative, and beautiful
play. Such an achievement in the dramatic art as the setting before the
public of such a play and such a performance as Blanche Bates gave of
its heroine vindicate the beneficent utility of the Theatre, because it
cheers and ennobles, and thus practically helps society, through the
ministration of beauty. This is a hard world. Almost everybody in it
struggles beneath burdens of care and sorrow. Multitudes of human beings
dwell in trouble and suffering. An imperative need of our race is the
strength of patience and the light of hope. Dramatic art, or any art,
which satisfies that need, or even remotely helps to satisfy it, is a
blessing. The rest is little, if at all, better than a curse.
There was fine acting in “The Darling of the Gods” besides that of Miss
Bates. The part of _Zakkuri_, the _War Minister_,--a callous,
remorseless, cold villain, of the Duke of Alva type,--is the main source
of action in the drama, and it is elaborately and vividly drawn. It was
played by George Arliss, who gave in it a thrilling incarnation of
dangerous force and inveterate wickedness, almost humorous in its icy
depravity: he had an exceptional success, even for an actor who always
acts well.
And there are many splendid imaginative and dramatic passages in this
play besides those which have been particularly examined. As set upon
the stage by Belasco it was a spectacle of superb opulence, surpassing
all its predecessors in wealth of color and beauty of detail. In the
Scene of the Night Watch at the gates; in that of the stealthy,
nocturnal search for _Kara_, outside the lodge of the _Princess_, and in
that of _Yo-San’s_ supplication for her lover’s life there is the very
poetry of terror. Some of the expedients employed had been used in
earlier dramas,--such as “Patrie” and “Tosca,”--but they were so freshly
handled that they were made newly terrible with an atmosphere of grisly
dread. Belasco, in short, offered to his public in this production a
true dramatic work of novelty, variety, and scenic splendor,
extraordinarily rich in the element of histrionic art; an offering that
was symmetrical and magnificent, prompting a memory of the old days of
“Pizarro,” “The Ganges,” and “The Bronze Horse,” but proving that his
day also was golden and that Aladdin’s Lamp had not been lost.
THE CREATION OF DRAMATIC EFFECTS.--DIFFICULTIES WITH THE RIVER OF SOULS.
Supreme dramatic effects are, as a rule, produced in the Theatre as
results of patient, prescient labor, using known, definite means to
definite foreordained ends,--as, for example, in such perfect histrionic
epitomes as _Shylock’s_ return through the lonely midnight streets to
his deserted dwelling, as arranged by Irving; the momentary shuddering
horror of Mansfield’s _King Richard the Third_, when, alone, in the
dusk, seated upon the throne to which he has made his way by murder, he
sees his hand bathed blood-red in a seemingly chance-thrown beam of
light; the exquisitely poetic and lovely scene of the serenade, in
“Twelfth Night,” invented by Daly, in which the theme of the comedy is
pictured without a word; or the long, dreary vigil of _Madame
Butterfly_, waiting
[Illustration:
Photograph by Livingston Platt. Belasco’s Collection.
GEORGE ARLISS AS _ZAKKURI_, _THE MINISTER OF WAR_, IN “THE DARLING OF
THE GODS”]
through the night for her recreant lover, devised by Belasco. Sometimes,
however, even the most resourceful of stage managers, though possessed
of perfectly clear purpose, find themselves baffled and balked in every
endeavor to embody a picture in action and create a designed effect: it
is with them as it is with a painter who, while knowing exactly what he
desires to depict and, theoretically, exactly how to paint it,
nevertheless fails again and again in his attempts to do so, until, as
sometimes happens, chance seems to point a way to achievement. Such an
experience came to Belasco, in his execution of the imaginative and
lovely scene of the River of Souls, in this Oriental tragedy. Writing of
it, he records the following interesting recollection:
“There was one scene in ‘The Darling of the Gods,’ called the River
of Souls, which drove me almost mad and very nearly beat me. It was
a sort of purgatory between the Japanese Heaven and the Japanese
Hell. I engaged twenty young girls who were supposed to represent
the floating bodies of the dead, but they wouldn’t float. No matter
how hard I tried, the twenty souls looked like twenty chorus girls.
Night after night, I kept the young ladies and a number of
carpenters at work, but the illusion could not be carried out. The
play was produced in Washington, and during the last rehearsal the
River of Souls was the blot on the production; in fact, I had
postponed the opening for three nights because of this scene. At
last I made up my mind to give it one more trial and if it could
not be improved to cut it out. Dawn found Miss Bates asleep in a
stage-box, the company curled up on properties, the carpenters and
electricians ready to drop, and the River of Souls as bad as ever.
So I threw up my hands. ‘Thank you, ladies and gentlemen,’ I said,
‘out goes the River of Souls.’ I gave the order to strike [to clear
the stage of scenery]. At that moment all set-pieces were pulled
apart, the gauze curtain was down, and two calcium lights were at
the back of the stage. As the scene-shifters drew up the back drop
a carpenter walked across. His shadow was thrown several times on
the shifting gauze in a most spectral fashion. ‘Stop!’ I called
out. ‘Stop where you are! Don’t move! Don’t move!’ The poor
carpenter halted in his tracks: he must have thought me mad. ‘We’ve
got it!’ I exclaimed. I sent out for coffee and rolls, and called
another rehearsal at six in the morning. I must say everyone
rejoiced with me. When we finished breakfast I had the gauze so
arranged as to catch the shadows of the young ladies whose souls
were supposed to be floating between heaven and hell. I threw away
the expensive paraphernalia, and instead of permitting the young
women to be suspended in the air they walked behind the gauze,
stretching out their arms as though floating through the strong
rays of light. I have shown many different scenes, but none so
baffling as this and none more impressively effective.... When I
met Sir Herbert Beerbohm-Tree, who produced ‘The Darling of the
Gods’ in London, he said that as he read the description of this
effect in the manuscript he had not believed it could be carried
out.”
“The Darling of the Gods” was one of the most costly and least
profitable of all Belasco’s many lavish productions: the original
investment exceeded $78,000 and the expenses of presentment were so
great that, notwithstanding it was acted to immense audiences, at the
end of two years he had gained with it only $5,000.
AN OPERATIC PROJECT.--PETTY PERSECUTIONS.--AN ARREST FOR LIBEL.
While demolition of the Republic Theatre and construction of its
successor were in progress Belasco made an unsuccessful attempt to
fulfil a purpose which he had cherished for several years,--the purpose,
namely, to cause the writing of, and to produce, a series of true comic
operas, American in theme but similar in character to the brilliant and
delightful combinations of satire, melody, and fun which made famous the
names of Gilbert and Sullivan. “I hoped,” he said, “to find a pair of
American authors that could be developed into at least something like
such a team as Gilbert and Sullivan, and for a while I thought I should
succeed,--but it was too much to hope for.” As part of his plan for this
operatic enterprise Belasco engaged the well-known singer Miss Lillian
Russell, for whose talents he entertained high respect: “I _know_,” he
has said to me, “that Lillian Russell could have done far finer things
than ever she has done--and I wanted her to do them under my
management.” Inability to obtain any musical play for Miss Russell’s use
which was satisfactory to him finally compelled Belasco to release her
from engagement and to abandon a project which, adequately performed,
would have been of great benefit to our Stage.
From the time when it became publicly known that Belasco had assumed the
management of a theatre of his own, in New York, until 1909, when
self-interest at last reopened to him the long closed theatres dominated
by the Theatrical Syndicate, he was made the object of an almost
continuous series of attacks, annoyances, and persecutions, often merely
petty, sometimes extremely serious, the origin of which is not always
demonstrable but the motive of which, unmistakably, was to defame,
hamper, and injure him in his professional vocation. Thus, a few days
before the opening of his new theatre he was accused in several
newspaper diatribes of having “stolen” the services of three prominent
actors,--namely Lillian Russell, Blanche Bates, and David
Warfield,--then under engagement to him, from other theatrical managers,
regardless of prior contracts. The dispute on this subject has been
top-loftically described as a tempest in a teapot, but as the accusation
is, in fact, one of most dishonorable and illegal conduct the entire
refutation of it should be recorded. Miss Russell wrote about the matter
as follows:
“I am very proud to have it known that Mr. Belasco is to be my
future manager, but it is doing him a great injustice to assert
that he tried to get me away from other managers with whom I was
under contract. He, emphatically, did nothing of the kind.
Everything was done in the most amiable spirit among all concerned,
and, as a matter of fact, he and I were brought together, in a
business relation, entirely by outside parties.”
From Miss Bates came a letter in which she said:
“I was entirely free from all contract obligations when Mr. Belasco
first made me an offer to come under his management. I left Liebler
& Company quite voluntarily, as I did not care to go to London with
‘The Children of the Ghetto.’ I was therefore out of an engagement
when Mr. Belasco sent for me to create the leading part in a new
comedy.... I was given the greatest opportunity of my life in
‘Madame Butterfly,’ and I have grown from leading woman to a star
under his management. And because I know that my artistic future is
safer in his hands than with anyone else I would not for a moment
consider an offer from another manager.”
And Mr. Warfield sent to Belasco by telegraph from Boston this request
and statement:
“Please deny for me that I had one more year [of service under
contract] at Weber & Fields’. I came to you having always had an
idea you could better my position.”
A week before the first presentment of “The Darling of the Gods” in New
York an allegation even more injurious was made against Belasco when
several newspapers of the metropolis published affirmations by a female
author, known as Onoto Watanna, to the effect that characters and
incidents from two stories by her, “The Wooing of Wistaria” and “A
Japanese Nightingale,” had been appropriated by Belasco and incorporated
in “The Darling of the Gods” and that two acts of that play were pirated
from a dramatization of one of those stories.
To these aspersions Belasco made prompt rejoinder by institution of a
suit against Mrs. Bertrand W. Babcock, asking $20,000 damages for
malicious libel. Mrs. Babcock was arrested, December 3, 1902, on a
warrant issued in this action and held in $500 bail. At the time of her
arrest Belasco made a statement as to his motives and feelings in
bringing suit in which he said:
“My purpose in causing the arrest of Mrs. Babcock (Onoto Watanna)
is to stop, once and for all, the groundless persecution to which I
am subjected whenever I dare to present a new play. That my
productions are thorns in the sides of several managers I am
perfectly aware, but through Mrs. Babcock, who will now have to
give an account of her claims against me in court, I hope to reach
the real instigators of this attack against my integrity as a
manager and a man. I have never met Mrs. Babcock in my life nor
have I read either of her books, to one of which Klaw & Erlanger
have announced that they have purchased the dramatic rights. The
first I heard of Mrs. Babcock was about two months ago, at which
time my play had neither been put in rehearsal nor read to any one
who could possibly have told her of its plot, characters, or
incidents. At that time she informed a prominent morning newspaper
man that the firm of Klaw & Erlanger were very anxious to have her
bring a suit against me for plagiarism. I laughed at the whole
matter, for, knowing that ‘The Darling of the Gods’ was entirely
original with Mr. John Luther Long and myself, I could not conceive
of any person being foolish enough to make such a charge. But it
was the last shot in my enemies’ locker. From the day I started
work on this production I have been harassed in every direction. I
am almost as anxious to get this case into court and settled at
once and for all as I am to have the ‘Du Barry’ controversy
clinched. All I claim is the right of any citizen to pursue his
business unmolested.
“This whole affair from start to finish is a conspiracy to throw a
nasty slur on my name as a playwright and manager on the eve of a
new production in which I have invested a great deal of money: and
with the courts to help me I intend to unmask a few of the real
culprits. Furthermore, I find now that Mrs. Babcock’s story ‘The
Wooing of Wistaria’ was not published until last September. Our
play was finished early in June. By causing the arrest of this
woman I hope, in addition to justifying myself, to establish a
precedent whereby other playwrights, when they happen to be
successful, may be able to take drastic means to protect themselves
against similar persecutions.”
On February 6, 1903, at a hearing in this libel suit of Belasco’s,
before Justice Leventritt, of the Supreme Court, Mrs. Babcock, in
effect, withdrew the libel complained of (denying that she had made the
defamatory allegations ascribed to her), and the order of arrest
previously issued against her was, in consequence, vacated. The purpose
of the aspersions made was, undoubtedly, that stated by Belasco.--A
dramatization of Mrs. Babcock’s story of “A Japanese Nightingale” was
produced by Klaw & Erlanger, at Daly’s Theatre, New York, November 19,
1903, with Miss Margaret Illington as _Yuki_, its chief female
personage: the production of that play, it was generally understood in
theatrical circles at the time when it was made, was designed to exhibit
the authentic investiture and interpretation of a tragedy of Japan and
thus to display the artistic and managerial superiority of Messrs. Klaw
and Erlanger to Belasco: it was acted at Daly’s forty-four times and
then withdrawn.
On May 30, 1903, the 186th performance of “The Darling of the Gods”
occurred at Belasco’s Theatre, which was then closed for the season. On
June 6, at Minneapolis, Minnesota, Belasco brought to an end a tour by
Mrs. Leslie Carter and a theatrical company of 147 other players,
presenting his “Du Barry,” which began at Brooklyn, New York,
[Illustration: DAVID BELASCO
About 1889-’90
Photograph by the Misses Selby.
Author’s Collection.
]
December 2, 1902, which comprehended forty-two cities (extending as far
south as Galveston, Texas, and as far west as San Francisco), and which
involved travel of more than 10,000 miles, during most of which the
company was luxuriously transported on special trains.
SECOND SEASON AT THE BELASCO.--A CONTEMPTIBLE OUTRAGE.
The Belasco Theatre was reopened for its second season, that of
1903-’04, September 16, with a revival of “The Darling of the
Gods,”--acted by the original company,--which held the stage there until
November 14, sixty-four performances being given. On November 16 Mrs.
Carter emerged there in “Zaza,” which was acted for one week and was
followed, on the 23rd, by “Du Barry,” of which sixteen performances were
given. A peculiarly contemptible outrage, incidental to the protracted
campaign of persecution waged against Belasco, was perpetrated on the
first night of the “Zaza,” revival when a process server, employed and
instructed by the disreputable Abraham Hummel, leaped upon the stage
during the performance and served upon Mrs. Carter (who had nothing to
do with the matter) notice of an action at law brought by Miss Eugenie
Blair and Mr. Henry Gressit against Belasco, in which, alleging rights
of ownership in the play by Charles Frohman (who at the time was also
represented by Hummel), they prayed for an injunction to stop his
presenting “Zaza” in New York. “Few things,” Belasco has said, “could
have distressed me more than the thought that Charles Frohman could be
in any way a party to such conduct.” Among the many miscellaneous papers
which Belasco has permitted me to examine, in compiling material for
this Memoir, is a hurried note from Frohman which indeed reads strangely
in the light of this incident:
(_Charles Frohman To David Belasco._)
“New York, Friday,
“(August 30?), 1899.
“Dear Dave:--
“Don’t fail me on ‘Shenandoah.’ This is _my chance_, and you can do
much for me. _You know how I depend on you!_ After our engagement
the tour is arranged as you have asked it. 11 A.M., Tuesday, Star
Theatre. All details I have people to look after.
“CHARLES.”
The great success of “Shenandoah,” which made possible the career of
Charles Frohman, was in large part due to the sagacious and practical
help of Belasco, given in response to this appeal,--and the latter
manager, it seems to me, changing a single word, might well have
exclaimed with the betrayed monarch in Wills’s play about the Martyred
King, “Charles Murray, hast thou waited all these years to pay
me--_thus!_” Frohman, Belasco has informed me, assured him, long
afterward, when Gentle Peace had enfolded all their contentions, that he
was not priorly cognizant of Hummel’s outrageous instructions:
well,--perhaps he was not: but, if he was not, it is a pity he did not
so declare at the time of his quondam friend’s persecution and so shield
himself from contempt. Belasco’s lawyer, the Hon. A. J. Dittenhoefer,
commenting on this needless and shameful interruption of a public
performance, observed that “The case has remarkable features. As Mr.
[Charles] Frohman is half-owner of the play with Mr. Belasco, he is
really being served with papers by his own lawyers; moreover, Mrs.
Carter is not named in the papers, and it is against all precedent and
decency to serve them on her in such a way. They should have been served
on Mr. Belasco, or on the box-office, which stood open. There has been
plenty of time and ample opportunity for that.” Of course there had been
“plenty of time and ample opportunity”!--but such orderly and decent
service would not have annoyed and distressed a nervous, impulsive,
sensitive man, whom it was desired to harass and injure.--The injunction
asked for was denied by Justice Scott, December 11, 1903.
HENRIETTA CROSMAN AND “SWEET KITTY BELLAIRS.”
On June 15, 1900, Belasco entered into an agreement with the English
fiction writer Egerton Castle by which he obtained optional rights of
producing dramatizations of five novels by that author and his wife and
collaborator, Agnes Castle. He relinquished his rights in four of those
novels, “Young April,” “The Pride of Jennico,” “The Star Dreamer,” and
“The Secret Orchard,” but he exercised them with regard to a fifth, “The
Bath Comedy,” upon which he based a play. His purpose, originally, was
to bring forth Blanche Bates in its central character, when “The Darling
of the Gods” should have ceased to hold public interest. Many reasons,
however,--chief among them desire to please Mr. Castle by an early
production,--caused him to change his plan. He, accordingly, in January,
1903, engaged the accomplished actress Miss Henrietta Crosman to assume
the principal part in the play which he had founded on Mr. Castle’s
story, and, on November 23, of the same year, at the Lafayette Square
Opera House, Washington, D. C., he produced it for the first time, under
the title of “Sweet Kitty Bellairs.” Pursuant of what was, I am
convinced, a deliberate plan to harass Belasco and hinder him in his
managerial enterprises, the lawsuit instituted by Joseph Brooks
(incidents of which have already been recounted) was brought almost in
the moment of that first performance. Belasco, however, had grown
accustomed to persecution and remained unperturbed by it. On being
notified, November 24, of Brooks’s allegation in the matter and asked
for a statement, he dismissed the subject in two sentences: “It is,” he
said, “a pack of lies, and I am too busy with this production
[“Bellairs”] to make any answer to these persons [meaning Brooks and his
associates] now. When I am disengaged I will make a reply.”
Belasco’s presentment of his “Sweet Kitty Bellairs,”--made for the first
time in New York, December 9, 1903, at the Belasco Theatre,--revealed a
comedy as well as a spectacle, because, while it satiated the vision
with luxuriance of ornament and color, it set a truthful and piquant
picture of manners in the jewelled framework of a story generally
credible and always romantic as well as at once humorous and tender,
merry and grave. The central purpose of it is the display of a study in
womanhood, an exceptional female character, a peculiar and fascinating
type; and the predominant attribute of it, accordingly, is sexuality.
The dashing coquette of old English fiction lives again in his _Kitty
Bellairs_,--not precisely _Lady Froth_, _Lady Bellaston_, _Mrs. Rackett_
or _Mrs. Delmaine_, but a purified, glorified ideal of those gay,
tantalizing, roguish dames, a creature of sensuous beauty and reckless
behavior, whose whole occupation in life is the bewitchment of man; and,
in a silver fabric of gossamer comedy, this siren and all her associates
are engaged in adjusting their amatory relations. In other words, this
is a play of intrigue.
“The Bath Comedy” is an extravagant and flimsy novel, and the dramatist
derived but little material from it,--that little, however, comprising
the jealous, peppery, belligerent, irrational husband; the silly, pretty
wife, with her saccharine endearments and ever-ready tears; the
ingenuous young nobleman, _Lord Verney_, so readily dazzled; and the
burly, genial, blundering ardent Irish soldier, _O’Hara_, so fond and
faithful, so rich in desert, and, at the last, so completely forlorn.
Expert use is made, likewise, of the diverted love-letter, inclosing the
tress of red hair. No spectacle, indeed, could, intrinsically, be
funnier than that presented by the enraged, suspicious, tumultuous
husband, intent on fighting with every red-haired man in Bath, in order
to be avenged on the unknown epistolary suitor of his absolutely
innocent wife. Taking this bull-headed mistake as a pretext for action,
and taking as a basis _Kitty’s_ wicked scheme for the relief of _Lady
Standish_,--who has temporarily wearied her husband by her dulness and
who will be taught to win and hold him by gay indifference and the
piquant allurement of coquetry,--Belasco built a structure of story and
action practically original and certainly brilliant. Writing on this
subject, he modestly says: “The dramatization was not easy: I was
obliged to add to the plot, but I used the atmosphere and characters of
the book,”--and, it may be added, contrived to fashion a charming and
effective comedy where, perhaps, any other dramatist of the time would
have failed.
After an insipid Prologue, in crude rhyme, the old English city of Bath
is shown, in a beautiful picture, and therein is displayed a populous,
animated scene, constructed to exhibit as a background the raiment,
manners, morals, and pursuits of Bath society, in the butterfly days
that Smollett and Sheridan have made immortal. Then the story,--slender
and frail but amply adequate for its light purpose,--is rapidly
disclosed. _Kitty Bellairs_ will help _Lady Standish_ to bewitch her
indifferent husband by making him jealous; and when, through _Kitty’s_
artful roguery, his dangerous wrath is directed against _Lord Verney_,
whom she would like to have for her own sweetheart, she will intervene
to prevent the impending duel and will implicate herself in a most
disastrous and distressing tangle of comic trouble. Two situations ensue
that are essentially dramatic and that also involve affecting and
enjoyable elements of pathos and humor. _Kitty_ and _Lady Standish_,
having proceeded to _Lord Verney’s_ lodging, in hope to avert a
catastrophe that their mischief has invoked, are in peril of
compromising discovery there, and at the climax _Kitty_ takes upon
herself the apparent disgrace and shame by coming forward to shield her
friend. Later, in the thronged assembly-room,--in a pageant of almost
unprecedented magnificence,--the brilliant _Bellairs_, ostracized by the
ladies of Bath, appeals to _Lady Standish_ for vindication and finds
that spineless comrade too weak and too timid to speak the truth. The
latter incident provides the supreme moment of the comedy, and, however
much its probability may be questioned, no spectator of it, adequately
acted, will for an instant doubt its theatrical effect. The preparations
for it are made with extraordinary skill. The scenic adjuncts to it
provided by Belasco were of royal opulence. It is fraught with
emotional suspense; it is a sharp surprise, and it has the decisive
potentiality of a dramatic act. Later the scene shifts to a Bristol
tavern, where _Lady Betty_ makes a tardy explanation, retrieving the
wrong, while _Verney_ and _O’Hara_ and the rest of the soldiers march
away,--in a storm, most deftly managed (as Belasco showed it), of wind
and pouring rain,--and _Sweet Kitty Bellairs_ is left in possession of
the field, a little rueful, perhaps, but rehabilitated and triumphant.
This close seemed somewhat tame, as a sequel to the ballroom effulgence,
but it was inevitable: after the clock has struck twelve it must
necessarily strike one. There is no thirteen.
The antique moralist, while gazing on that gorgeous spectacle,--“the
teacup time of hood and hoop, or when the patch was worn,”--might,
perhaps, be moved to inquire whether women, in their traffic with the
impulses of love, the caprices of their own sex and the follies of the
other, do really think and act as they are made to think and act in this
play of Belasco’s: but, as the antique moralist knows nothing whatever
about women, he would only bewilder himself by such interrogatory.
Enough to know, in gazing on that spectacle, that it dazzles his vision
and that the story pleases his fancy. He sees a woman to whom humdrum
conventionality is intolerable; a woman who is fearless alike of
vindictive feminine spite and insolent masculine tolerance; a woman who
can be magnanimous; a woman who is nothing if not brilliant: and all
this ought to content even a cynic. The dramatist has made _Kitty
Bellairs_ much more of a woman and _Lord Verney_ much more of a man than
they were in the Castle novel,--where, indeed, _Bellairs_ is
unprincipled and heartless and _Verney_ foolish: a coarse flirt and a
callow milksop. Evil influence may be incarnate, without evil deed. In
the play this heroine is a thoroughly noble, gentle, and tender woman,
underneath her panoply of mirth and mischief, and she acts from a good
heart, and not from mere vanity and sensuous caprice. Miss Crosman
entered into this character with absolute sympathy, and, as to the
glittering side of it, so embodied it as to create a cogent effect of
nature. There is an appeal made by _Kitty_ to her Irish and other
military friends, when they behold her in apparent disgrace, that
strikes the true note of pathos, and, in the speaking of this, Miss
Crosman eloquently and nobly expressed the dignity of conscious virtue,
while in the denotement of tenderness she much exceeded
expectation,--because tenderness is not characteristic of her acting in
general, the drift of her temperament and style setting toward pert
assurance, skittish
[Illustration: HENRIETTA CROSMAN AS _MISTRESS KITTY BELLAIRS_, IN “SWEET
KITTY BELLAIRS”
Photograph
by Sarony. Belasco’s Collection.
]
sport, sparkling raillery, and sprightly banter. _Kitty’s_ attitude,
during most of the comedy, is that of a maker of innocent
mischief,--with a spice of wickedness in it,--and she complicates
everything from pure love of drollery. This Miss Crosman made perfectly
and delightfully clear. The dilemma in Act Second, when _Kitty_ and
_Lady Betty_ are surprised in the bedroom at _Verney’s_, and the
exaction of an hysterical outburst at the end of Act Third a little
overtaxed the strength of the actress; but her impersonation of _Kitty
Bellairs_ lives in memory and is treasured for unity of purpose and
consistency of method, blithe spirit and buoyant action, sentiment
sweetly denoted beneath arch pleasantry and many winning graces of
manner, inflection, and playful prettiness. Belasco gained a new and
lasting laurel of success with this production, in which all points had
been well considered and nothing left to chance. The first performance
in New York was given in the presence of a brilliant and delighted
multitude. The final curtain did not fall till after midnight,--but
“Noiseless falls the foot of Time
That only falls on flowers.”
This is the original cast of “Sweet Kitty Bellairs”:
“_They lived in that past Georgian day
When men were less inclined to say
That ‘Time is gold’ and overlay
With toil their pleasures._”
* * * * *
_IN THE PROLOGUE._
* * * * *
_Master of Ceremonies_ Mark Smith, Jr.
_The Prologue will be spoken by_ Antoinette Walker.
* * * * *
_IN THE PLAY._
_Sir Jasper Standish_ John E. Kellerd.
_Col. the Hon. Henry Villiers_ Edwin Stevens.
_Captain Spicer_ } { Frank H. Westerton.
_Lord Verney, Lieut._ } Of the { Charles Hammond.
_Mr. Tom Stafford, Lieut._ } 51st { James Carew.
_Mr. Bob Chichester, Lieut._ } Regiment. { Clyde Fogel.
_Gandy, Private_ } { Addison Pitt.
_Fenwick, Private_ } { Shelley Hull.
_The Bishop of Bath and Wells_ H. Rees Davies.
_Col. Kimby McFiontan_ R. Peyton Carter.
_Capt. Denis O’Hara_ } { J. Malcolm Dunn.
_Major Owen MacTeague_ } Of the { Alfred Cahill.
_Mr. Lanty MacLusky, Lieut._ } “Inniskillings.” { Douglas Wood.
_Mr. Darby O’Donovan, Cornet._} { Emmet Lennon.
_Mallow_ Stanley Drewitt.
_The Innkeeper of the Bear Inn_ Harold Watts.
_First Courier_ Howard Hull.
_Second Courier_ S. K. Blair.
_Post Boy_ William Whitney.
_Mistress Kitty Bellairs_ Henrietta Crosman.
_Lady Standish (Julia)_ Katharine Florence.
_Lady Marie Prideaux_ Louise Moodie.
_Lady Bab Flyte_ Edith Crane.
_Mistress Bate-Coome_ Genevieve Reynolds.
_Hon. Mrs. Beaufort_ Charlotte Nicoll Weston.
_Miss Prue_ Bernice Golden.
_Miss Doll_ Sybil Klein.
_Miss Debby_ Jane Cowl.
_Miss Sally_ Lydia Winters.
_Selina_ Lillian Coffin.
_Lydie_ Estelle Coffin.
_Barmaid of the Bear Inn_ Mignon Hardt.
_Clorinde_ } { Mrs. Irvin Chapman.
_Dorothea_ } { Gertrude Dorrance.
_Arabella_ } _Mrs. Bate-Coome’s_ { Edith Rowland.
_Angela_ } daughters. { Helen Hale.
_Marjorie_ } { Edna Griffen.
_Mistress Tilney_ Sara Delaro.
SIDE-LIGHT AND COMMENTARY ON “SWEET KITTY.”
“Sweet Kitty Bellairs” was acted at the Belasco Theatre until June 4,
1904, when the season ended and that house was closed. It was revived
there in the fall, September 3, and, with Miss Crosman in its chief
part, was subsequently acted in many other cities. In the season of
1905-’06, Miss Crosman having retired from Belasco’s management, it was
again revived, with Miss Bertha Galland as _Kitty_, and on October 5,
1907, with Miss Eva Moore in that part, it was played at the Haymarket
Theatre, London. On February 3, 1904, while this comedy was in the full
tide of its first success, one of the many groundless suits against
Belasco, accusing him of plagiarism, was brought by Grace B. Hughes,
otherwise known as Mary Montagu, who asserted that Belasco’s play was an
infringement of one by her, entitled “Sweet Jasmine,” and applied for an
injunction to stop him from further presentment of it. Her application
was argued before Justice E. Henry Lacombe, March 18, and on March 26
was denied. One of the most vicious propensities of newspaper journalism
was sharply illustrated in connection with Miss Montagu’s wanton
aspersion on Belasco’s honesty: when it was _made_, her charge of
plagiarism was generally and conspicuously published by the press; when
it was _disproved_, it ceased to be “live news” and merely curt and, in
general, obscure record was made of the issue. Minor “resemblances”
between the two plays, adduced by the complainant in this action by way
of substantiating her charge of literary theft, were such as the facts
that in both a military band played music; in both “green” is mentioned
as the color of grass, and in both a lover states the nature of his
feeling toward the woman he loves. Yet, without any possibility of
redress, Belasco was compelled to expend energy, time, and money on
making a serious defence against the preposterous accusations of
irresponsible frivolity! To oppose and defeat the suit of Miss Montagu
cost him a large sum. There is no reasonable doubt that, in the majority
of cases, such accusations of plagiarism as those which have been
brought against Belasco are made in hope that the person accused will
buy off the accuser as the quickest and cheapest way of ending
annoyance. Belasco, however, has never gratified such hope; and he
assured me: “I never will--for I prefer to lose a thousand dollars in
money and ten thousand in time and trouble rather than to submit to
blackmail.” In denying the writ applied for by this impudent defamer the
court declared that “No direct evidence of copying, either of language
or dramatic situation, is shown. A comparison of the two plays shows
that _they are wholly dissimilar in plot, in characters, in text, and in
dramatic situations_. The climax of one act in each piece was
principally relied upon in argument--where the unexpected discovery of
the leading character in a place where she should not be makes a
dramatic situation.... This is an old device; it was common property to
all playwrights since Sheridan used it in ‘The School for Scandal’ [And
since long before that time!--W. W.]. Analyzing the details of the
situations as presented in these two plays, the points of _essential
difference_ so far outnumber the points of similarity that it is
difficult to understand how anyone could persuade himself that one was
taken from the other.”--The following letters provide an interesting
side-light and commentary on the history of “Bellairs”:
(_David Belasco to Egerton Castle, in London._)
“Cartwright Cottage,
“Manhanset Manor, New York,
“August 29, 1904.
“My dear Mr. Castle:--
“You must pardon me for not replying to your letter. I am much run
down by overwork, and as I had to finish Mrs. Carter’s new play for
the coming season besides much other work my doctor ordered me to
the Adirondack Mountains, and before going I gave orders to my
secretary to keep all mail for me until my return. Thank you for
the story you sent. It is charming, but as it so closely follows
the line of ‘Sweet Kitty Bellairs,’ and as that play has made such
a success, I am afraid that another on the same subject and in the
same period would fall flat in this country. So if anyone applies
to you for the rights you will understand that I relinquish them.
“Next week ‘Sweet Kitty’ opens at my theatre for a few weeks, then
it will be started off on tour. I need not tell you the condition
of things theatrical in America. The Syndicate has brought nothing
but disgrace and humiliation to the profession. Things artistic are
at their lowest ebb. Last season was the worst financially the
theatres ever experienced. Many fortunes were lost. Outside of
‘Sweet Kitty Bellairs’ I don’t think any manager produced a
success. Of course I lost money on the production. A play of that
period is expensive, and as I make my productions perfect it
invariably takes me a year to get back the original cost. This
coming season is the year of the Presidential Election, which
always hurts the theatres, but I think we shall do well on tour
because of our New York success. I think it inadvisable to attempt
‘Sweet Kitty’ in England until after its first tour in this
country. If by chance it should slip up over in London it would
hurt our prospects for the play here. While the papers attach very
little importance to a play successfully produced in England, they
cable over a failure with sensational particulars, and it hurts all
throughout the country. I think it would be wise to arrange for the
production of ‘Sweet Kitty’ in London later, making the
arrangements during the coming season, but, as I stated, I don’t
think it would be well to produce it yet.
“Hope that you are meeting with every success. With best wishes to
Mrs. Castle and yourself,
“Faithfully,
“DAVID BELASCO.”
(_David Belasco to Egerton Castle, in London._)
“The Belasco Theatre,
“New York, March 3, 1905.
“My dear Mr. Castle:--
“Your letter of February 5 received. I regret very much that ‘Sweet
Kitty Bellairs’ has not done better than it has. But I am
constrained to attribute this to the fact that, in order to please
you, I put it on during an unpropitious season, when there was
little or no interest in plays of the Georgian period, because the
country was surfeited with them--with comic operas of the
Eighteenth Century, and revivals of Sheridan. Again, I myself had
just finished the production of ‘Du Barry,’ which, while it is of a
more regal nature than ‘Bellairs,’ is still of the Eighteenth
Century, a costume play of manners and customs. All this tended to
take from ‘Kitty’ the charm of novelty, a detraction which could
not be overcome by the fact that I spent more than $65,000 on the
production and gave it a cast comprising some of the highest
salaried artists in America.
“It was my intention to hold the play in reserve for Miss Bates,
and produce it this year, with her in the title rôle. She is one of
my own stars, and very popular. Had I done so, waiting for the
flood of plays of that period to cease, I am convinced the result
would have been far different.
“Miss Crosman closes in April, and I shall then recall the company,
store the production and send it out when the road conditions in
this country are more favorable. I believe it to be a valuable
piece of property over here, and that it may yet make enough money
to enable me to get back at least my original outlay. My loss up to
date on the play is $50,000.
“In regard to the English production, I deem it inadvisable to
commit myself at present, because I yet hope to have a theatre of
my own in London, and, in consequence, am saving all my material
for that time. Moreover, in ‘Kitty Bellairs’ I know so well the
things that made it a great artistic success in this country, and
there are so many details about the production to need my personal
supervision, that I should really be afraid to let it be put on
without me. To make the play ‘go’ at all, it must have a special
cast, without which its fate would be foredoomed, and I do not care
to trust the selection of this cast to another. In short, the
English production is a risk I do not wish to take, until I can
give it my own personal attention.
“With kindest regards, I am
“Faithfully,
“DAVID BELASCO.”
“THE DARLING” IN LONDON.--A HEARTY TRIBUTE.
On December 28, 1903, the English actor and manager Herbert
Beerbohm-Tree produced “The Darling of the Gods,” with notable success,
at His Majesty’s Theatre, London,--himself appearing in it as _Zakkuri_,
with Miss Marie Löhr as _Yo-San_ and George Relph as _Kara_. A
characteristic instance of journalistic meanness was then provided by
“The London Times,” which ascribed the beauty and perfection of Japanese
detail in the production to the influence of Mme. Sada Yaco,--a Japanese
eccentricity who had appeared on the stage in London and profoundly
agitated the esthetic circle of “souls” resident in that city. As Tree’s
presentment of the tragedy of Japan was made in faithful adherence to
Belasco’s prompt book thereof and as Belasco never saw the Japanese
actress, either on the stage or off, it would be interesting to learn in
what manner her “influence” was exerted on him or his work. It is
pleasant to turn from such paltry carping to read the hearty tribute
paid by Tree, speaking from the stage of his theatre, in grateful
acknowledgment of public approval:
“Ladies and Gentlemen:--I thank you for this splendid, wonderful
reception of ‘The Darling of the Gods,’ but I must tell you that
all the credit for what you have seen here goes across the ocean to
that great idealist and genius of the Theatre, my comrade David
Belasco, whom I so much admire. Never in all my career have I
received from anybody [else] such a perfect ’script of a play.
Every detail, every bit of costume, every piece of business, every
light, is set down for us, and every note of music furnished,
making it all so easy to produce this play that we can only claim
credit for carrying out instructions! Concerning the genius and
imagination that created it all and is responsible for it all,--I
must say that, knowing him as I do, I can see that it is all
Belasco-Belasco-Belasco, from the rise to the fall of the curtain.
Words are inadequate to pay tribute to him; but I shall have the
pleasure of sending him a cable to-night, to tell him how
tremendously you have all enjoyed and applauded this wonderful play
and how grateful we all are to him as well as you!
“Hereafter, it is my hope that Mr. Belasco and I shall do some work
in collaboration and that I may induce him to send us more of his
productions--perhaps, to bring them over himself and have them
acted for you under his own supervision....”
“Tree was always most generous to me,” Belasco has said; “and his
‘Darling’ speech made me very happy. I like appreciation and
encouragement when I have worked hard and tried to deserve it. Always
after doing my ‘Darling’ Tree used to address me as ‘Sir David,’ and
several times in public speeches he said that if they had me in England
they would knight me--which was very kind and lovely, but plain ‘Mister
Dave’ is good enough for me!”
[Just before leaving this country for the last time Tree read Belasco’s
striking play about the spiritual survival of man, “The Return of Peter
Grimm,” and arranged to produce it in London,--an arrangement which was
abrogated by his sudden and untimely death, July 2, 1917.--J. W.]
A STRENUOUS YEAR.
The year 1904 was one of peculiar perplexity and vexation for
Belasco--of incessant strenuous labor and (as I deem) of most malicious
harassment which might well have broken both his health and his spirit
had he not been sustained by vital enthusiasm and a steadfast,
invincible will. In that year he had not only to bear the heavy expense
of producing “Sweet Kitty Bellairs,” together with the loss and
anxieties incident to theatrical management amid generally disturbed
business conditions and the distraction and annoyance of Miss Montagu’s
monstrous lawsuit, but, also, he had to provide new plays and new
productions for Mrs. Carter and for Warfield, to make his plans for the
future of Blanche Bates, and to encounter at last the open and
unrestricted animosity of the Theatrical Syndicate. “I am,” Belasco has
truly said about himself (1903), “a patient and peaceful man: I don’t
want to fight with anybody. I want to attend to _my_ business in _my own
way_--to do my work unmolested and to interfere with nobody. But neither
will I permit anybody to interfere with _me_, or to dictate to me, if I
am able to resist.” And speaking of Belasco’s course in theatrical
management, his general representative, B. F. Roeder, publicly declared
at about the same time (June, 1903): “Mr. Belasco’s policy will remain
exactly what it has always been. He will be independent of all factions
and [will] place his companies wherever he can get the best terms and
time.” Such a policy, indisputably right as it is, was not one which the
Theatrical Syndicate would brook, and it soon brought that oppressive
monopoly into direct and open conflict with Belasco in the conduct of
his business. Foreseeing an immense popular interest in the World’s Fair
(Louisiana Purchase Exposition) at St. Louis, in 1904, Belasco resolved
that his superb production of “The Darling of the Gods” should
concurrently be presented there. He felt great and wholly natural and
frank pride in that production: he knew that he could not much longer
hold together the company acting in it, and he desired that as many
persons as possible should see his tragedy to the best advantage. When,
however, he applied to the Syndicate booking agency, presided over by
Mr. A. L. Erlanger, to arrange for an engagement in St. Louis, during
“the Fair,” he was informed that it could not be done. He thereupon
instructed his own booking agent, an experienced manager, William G.
Smyth, to arrange for presentment of “The Darling of the Gods” at an
independent theatre there, the Imperial, and his order was at once
obeyed. It is not worth while to relate in detail the story of the
attempt to coerce Belasco into cancelling that engagement: it is enough
to state that (as he told me at the time) when it had proved impossible
to intimidate him the uncouth Erlanger destroyed the contracts
previously executed through his agency, between Belasco and theatre
managers in various cities,--and, in profane and insulting language,
sent him notice that he could not thereafter present his productions in
_any_ Syndicate theatre.
WARFIELD IN “THE MUSIC MASTER.”--AN ANIMATED SPEECH.
Once committed to “open war” with the Trust and having got the St. Louis
engagement of Miss Bates securely arranged, Belasco turned to completion
of the plays for Warfield and Mrs. Carter. He had, at first, intended to
write the Warfield piece unaided, but the demands on his time and
strength had rendered that impossible and he had employed the late
Charles Klein (1867-1915) to work with him. “I had,” he said, “given
much thought to the subject of the play I needed for Warfield, but with
all my other responsibilities and cares I found that I must get somebody
else to do much of the actual writing. One night while having supper in
a restaurant with Roeder, after the play, I told him that I was going to
ask Klein to undertake it. ‘Well,’ Roeder said, ‘this is a good time to
ask him--here he comes,’ and Klein, who had just come in, walked over to
our table and told me he had been thinking for some time about writing a
play for Warfield! I told him what I had in mind, and before we
separated we had agreed to do the piece together.”
The outcome of that agreement was the play of “The Music Master,” which
was produced for the
[Illustration:
Photograph by Sarony. The Albert Davis Collection.
DAVID WARFIELD AS _HERR ANTON VON BARWIG_, IN “THE MUSIC MASTER”]
first time at the Young’s Pier Theatre, Atlantic City, New Jersey, on
September 12, 1904. “The Music Master” is not remarkable for either
originality of design or felicity of construction, but it is pure in
spirit, interesting in story, picturesque in setting, and healthful in
influence, and it was apparent from the first that it would have a long
and abundantly prosperous career. There has been on our Stage such
excessive exposition of vice and degradation, of the possible depravity
of human conduct and wickedness of human motive, that it was an active
benefaction to place such a play before the public, a positive blessing
to receive the privilege of mental contact with its pure and noble ideal
of humanity. It was announced, without qualification, as having been
written by Charles Klein: that was an injustice. It is, in fact, a
patchwork,--in the form in which Klein first shaped it being based to
some extent on a play by Felix Morris (1847-1900) called “The Old
Musician,” and then made over by Belasco, with a distinctively
perceptible interfusion of dramatic expedients from that fine old drama
“Belphégor; or, The Mountebank.” The central person, _Herr Anton von
Barwig_, the Music Master, is a German musician, of a familiar
type,--peculiar but attractive; impassioned but gentle; droll but
piteous; fervid but patient: an image of moral dignity and
self-sacrifice,--and the posture of situations and incidents that have
been utilized for his presentment shows him as a loving father,
occupied, under conditions of almost sordid adversity, in a quest for
his daughter, whom an unworthy wife and mother has taken from him,
flying, with a paramour, from Germany to the United States, whither he
has followed them. That daughter, at last, he finds and, in
circumstances cruel to himself, practically befriends by keeping the
secret of her paternity. The conspicuous attributes of this
person,--attributes blended and interwoven beneath a serio-comic surface
of foreign manner and broken English,--are, intrinsically (of course
with variant investiture), those that have long endeared such characters
as _Michonnet_, _Triplet_, _Mr. Peggotty_, _Caleb Plummer_, and _Doctor
Primrose_: attributes, namely, of love, charity, fidelity, fortitude,
patience, humor, simplicity, spontaneous goodness, and an unconscious
grace equally of conduct, manner, and thought. The purpose, manifestly,
was to place an eccentric, gentle, affectionate, humorous, and somewhat
forlorn elderly man in a predicament of sad circumstance, and in that
way to arouse pity and stimulate the promptings of charitable impulse.
That purpose was accomplished; and therefore, aside from all
consideration of its inspiration and while the play is neither novel
with invention, potent with strong dramatic effect, nor brilliant with
polished dialogue, it possesses the solid worth of fidelity to simple
life, the charm of diversified character, and the beauty of deep,
tender, human feeling.
It was a wise choice to combine those attributes into a stage figure,
and David Warfield,--finding himself liberated, mind and heart, into a
congenial character,--gained in embodying it the most substantial
success of his professional career,--making of that figure a vital
emblem of heroism that is never flamboyant and virtue that is never
insipid; an image of paternal affection that typifies innate dignity of
character and the sweet, gentle, lovely patience of pure
self-abnegation. In earlier performances this comedian was almost
exclusively photographic; but time, thought, and practice,--the forces
that constitute experience,--gradually expanded and ripened his art, and
in his performance of this part (when repetition had eliminated
excessive nervous trepidation and made it “a property of easiness” to
him) he showed intuitive insight and was deeply pathetic. That is true
success; because the higher purpose of acting a play is not proclamation
of the talents of an actor, but liberation and enforcement of the utmost
of beneficial influence upon an audience that a play contains. Warfield
in “The Music Master” conquered by the two great virtues of simplicity
and sincerity. The principal artistic defects in the
personation--defects conspicuous in all Warfield’s acting and to the
elimination of which he seems to be curiously indifferent--were a hard,
metallic voice and a poor method of elocution. The best dramatic
expedient in the play is that by which the father’s dubious, inchoate
recognition of the daughter is confirmed. At that point and in the
sequent situation (“lifted” from “Belphégor”) the actor evinced
sympathetic delicacy and tempestuous fervor. The closing scenes of the
play are marred by episodes of irrelevant incident and by prolixity,
obscurity and artifice, in the long-drawn passage of parental and filial
recognition,--which, indeed, requires but a glance.
Belasco has written the following reminiscence of the production of “The
Music Master,” in which he shows just appreciation of the destructive
result of those excessive expedients of stage “realism” which, in some
of his earlier productions, impaired precisely the _effect_ they were
designed to create:
“We always spoke of _von Barwig_ as ‘the music teacher.’ Naturally
that became the name of the play; but as the character grew our
musician impressed us as a master, and our title was changed to
‘The Music Master.’
“I think there were at least fourteen versions of this
comedy-drama. Even after the cast was engaged, we went over the
manuscript again. The entire Supper Scene in the First Act was
written while the company was assembled on the stage; so, too, was
the ending of the play. Such radical alterations were made at the
last rehearsal that one of the acts was almost entirely rewritten.
We had a scene, wherein _von Barwig_ dreamed of his past life in
Leipzig. While the stage was dark, a double took Warfield’s place
in the armchair and remained in view of the audience while Warfield
himself moved through the following scenes. He was shown as a young
man, writing the intermezzo which was to bring him fame and
fortune. Then he was seen directing the orchestra, then in his
home, where he came fresh from his triumph, to find a note from his
wife, telling of her departure, and on the floor a broken toy,--the
toy by which after many years he was to identify his daughter.
These scenes were mounted on movable platforms, easily set in place
without loss of time. They were shown with telling effect at
rehearsals, but I felt that the beauty of the actor’s art was
hampered by machinery. While Warfield was making quick changes,
hurrying on and off the stage, the beautiful simplicity of his work
was lost. The artist was of less importance than scenic changes and
effects. ‘This is not a spectacular play,’ I thought, ‘all these
external matters are carrying us too far from this man’s
performance.’ To the surprise of everyone, I ordered the scenes cut
out. Instead, I showed Warfield sitting in revery, and by means of
his changing expression and a few phrases dropped now and then the
story of his past was conveyed to the spectators. His simple acting
made it all as clear as though I had really used the various
scenes. At the same time attention was centred on the actor, not
on canvas.... The Last Act represented an attic with a skylight
with its cracked panes stuffed with cloths which fluttered
violently in the wind until some of them fell out and snow drifted
through the openings. I liked the snowstorm very much, as it
accentuated the misery of the characters grouped about a little
stove. Warfield did not like the storm, but he did not wish to say
so; so he took a novel way to be rid of it. ‘Brrr!’ he said as he
walked off the stage, ‘I’m cold! The snowstorm is so realistic it
has given me a chill!’ I ordered the weather changed at once....”
“The Music Master,” when first acted in New York,--at the original
Belasco Theatre, September 26, 1904,--was cast as follows:
_Herr Anton von Earwig_ David Warfield.
_Signor Tagliafico_ } Musicians of the { W.G. Ricciardi.
_Mons. Louis Pinac_ } Liberty Café. { Louis P. Verande.
_Herr August Poons_ } { Leon Kohlmar.
_Henry A. Stanton_ Campbell Gollan.
_Andrew Cruger_ William Boag.
_Beverly Cruger_ J. Carrington Yates.
_Mr. Schwarz_ Alfred Hudson.
_Mr. Ryan_ Tony Bevan.
_Al. Costello_ Louis Hendricks.
_Joles_ Harold Mead.
_Ditson_ H. G. Carlton.
_Danny_ Master Richard Kessler.
_A Collector_ Downing Clarke.
_Mrs. Andrew Cruger_ Isabel Waldron.
_Helen Stanton_ Minnie Dupree.
_Miss Houston_ Marie Bates.
_Jenny_ Antoinette Walker.
_Charlotte_ Sybil Klein.
_Octavie_ Jane Cowl.
After the Second Act Belasco was many times called before the curtain
and finally, responding to insistent requests, addressed the audience in
an exceptionally animated way, saying:
“I hope you will excuse me from making a formal speech; but I am
most happy to take this occasion to say that I am glad you like our
little play and glad that Mr. David Warfield has succeeded. And I
am happy, too, to take this occasion to say publicly how proud I am
of him and how very, very grateful I am for his loyalty to
me--loyalty that no persecution could shake and no malice
undermine! There have been lawsuits, plots, perjuries, and lies;
there have been vexations enough to weary the patience of a saint
(and I am not a saint, ladies and gentlemen!): but Mr. Warfield has
remained through it all unshaken and true to me--and I honor and
thank him: and, ladies and gentlemen, as long as I possess your
confidence and friendship no theatrical syndicates, with all their
money and outside influence, can crush me or dictate to me in what
way I shall conduct my business. I rejoice in Mr. Warfield’s
success, and since this play pleases you, I will only say that our
prosperity is just so much more ammunition with which to continue
the struggle for Justice and the triumph of Right in American
theatrical management!”
The appended letter, written by Belasco during the toil and strain of
preparing his “Music Master” and “Adrea” productions, indicates his
strenuous labor to make the former a success and his almost diffident
estimate of his practically invaluable contributions to it as a
playwright:
(_David Belasco to Charles Klein, at Merriewold Park, N. Y._)
“Shelter Island, Long Island,
“New York, July 10, 1904.
“My dear Charles:--
“Act Second is now in the hands of Miss Edith. As you say you have
shipped the Third Act to me I am expecting it any hour. I shall
have Act One typed as soon as possible and fire it off to you. I
hope you will like the things I have done to it. I am so anxious
that your play shall be a sensational hit _that I am giving fifteen
hours a day to it_. Whatever I do I think will help the cause,--and
after all we are working for a big success. There is too much at
stake for us all not to take off our coats and work for life. You
have been bully, my dear Charles, from start to finish, and now
with good health and with God on our side you shall reap the
benefit of your patience and hard work.--I shall drop the acts
along to you as they leave Miss Edith, and as I said before, I hope
the work I have done on them will please you.
“Faithfully
“DAVID BELASCO.”
CONCERNING WARFIELD, JEFFERSON, THE ELDER SOTHERN, AND THE “ONE-PART”
CUSTOM.--AN AMAZING RECORD.
In commenting on Warfield’s great, indeed phenomenal, success and
popularity in “The Music Master,” Belasco writes: “I have no doubt that
he could become _a one-part actor_ and appear as _von Barwig_
perennially, just as Jefferson played _Rip Van Winkle_ and Sothern _Lord
Dundreary_. However, neither he nor I approve of this plan.” It is
singular, indeed, what a strange, delusive, ineradicable effect the
parrot-like repetition of words sometimes creates. Belasco,--like the
majority of other persons who mention the subject,--has got it firmly
established in his mind that Jefferson and Sothern were what he
designates as “one-part actors” (actors who, as he expressly states,
follow a professional course of which he does not approve), and he will,
I suppose, go to his grave serene in the conviction that such was the
case and unconscious of the injustice he does both those great actors.
Yet Sothern gave hundreds of performances in “Sam,” “David Garrick,”
“The Crushed Tragedian,” “Home,” and “An English Gentleman” after his
great success in “Lord Dundreary”; while Jefferson’s repertory embraced
well over 100 parts; for every five performances he gave of _Rip_ he
gave about three of _Bob Acres_, in “The Rivals,” and,--to the delight
of audiences throughout our country,--he acted, hundreds of times, as
_Dr. Pangloss_, in “The Heir-at-Law”; _Caleb Plummer_, in “The Cricket
on the Hearth”; _Mr. Golightly_, in “Lend Me Five Shillings” (which, by
the way, was the last part he ever played); _Dr. Ollapod_, in “The Poor
Gentleman”; _Hugh de Brass_, in “A Regular Fix,” and _Mr. Woodcock_, in
“Woodcock’s Little Game.” _Every_ exceptionally successful actor is
_more_ popular in some one part than he is in any other, and as it was
with Jefferson in _Rip Van Winkle_ and Sothern in _Dundreary_ so also is
it with Warfield in _von Barwig_. Yet Warfield certainly is not a
one-part actor,--though for every part he has played in the regular
Theatre, aside from that one (exactly four, that is), Jefferson and
Sothern each played anywhere from fifteen to twenty-five parts.
Warfield, since his initial triumph as _von Barwig_, thirteen years ago
[1917], has acted in a revival of “The Auctioneer,” and in “A Grand Army
Man,” “The Return of Peter Grimm,” and “Van Der Decken.” Yet, time and
again, wisely and rightly, Belasco has revived for him “The Music
Master,” and always the public,--whether in the greatest cities of the
country or the smallest “one-night stand” which he has visited,--has
hailed him in that piece with joy and flocked in crowds to witness his
touching and lovely performance. During the season of 1906-’07, when he
fulfilled engagements in that play, of four weeks each, at the Majestic
Theatre, Boston, and the Academy of Music, New York, the respective
managers of those houses caused to be prepared, attested under oath,
and delivered as souvenirs to Belasco statements which show that in
eight weeks $171,179.25 was paid for the privilege of seeing Warfield’s
impersonation of _von Barwig_. That is an amazing record, surpassing any
similar and fairly comparable one known to me, and, therefore, I here
transcribe the items of receipt:
_MAJESTIC THEATRE, BOSTON._
Week ending October 6, 1906 (seven performances), $16,443.50.
Week ending October 13, 1906 (seven performances), 16,227.75.
Week ending October 20, 1906 (eight performances), 18,676.50.
Week ending October 27, 1906 (eight performances), 20,864.00.
------------
$72,211.75.
_ACADEMY OF MUSIC, NEW YORK._
Week ending February 2, 1907, $21,857.25.
“ “ “ 9, “ 22,249.75.
“ “ “ 16, “ 25,149.25.
“ “ “ 23, “ 29,711.25.
------------
$98,967.50.
During the engagement at the Academy of Music, in 1907, the highest
price charged for a seat was $1.50.
[Perhaps nothing more conclusively manifests the unbreakable hold of
Warfield on the affections of the American public, in this play, than
the facts that in the present season (1917-’18), notwithstanding the
stress of war and that the character he portrays is a German, his
audiences everywhere have, seemingly, been limited only by the capacity
of the theatres in which he has appeared and that, as Mr. Belasco kindly
informs me, his average gross receipts have been well over $14,000 a
week.--J.W.]
The first engagement of “The Music Master” at the Belasco Theatre lasted
until January 7, 1905, when it was withdrawn to make way for Mrs. Carter
in “Adrea.” On January 9 it was acted at the old Bijou Theatre, and
remained there until June 3.
Belasco was subjected to a peculiarly impudent and contemptible
persecution when Joseph Brooks (the factotum of Klaw & Erlanger and, as
asserted by Belasco, a mere “dummy” for that firm) attempted to maintain
a claim of partnership with him in the production and presentment of
“The Music Master.” The contract signed by Brooks and by Belasco, in
1901, providing for professional exploitation of David Warfield,
assigned the contract made in November, 1900, between Belasco and
Warfield, to the Belasco-Brooks “partnership”; and
[Illustration:
Photograph in Belasco’s Collection.
SCENE IN FRONT OF THE BELASCO THEATRE, PITTSBURGH, PA.
Ten o’clock in the morning, December 6, 1906: Opening of the sale of
tickets for David Warfield’s engagement in “The Music Master”]
the Belasco-Warfield contract, which covered the seasons of
1901-’02-’03, provided for a renewal at the end of that term. Brooks,
accordingly, after “The Music Master” had been written on Belasco’s
instigation and in large part by him and after it had been produced
solely at his expense and risk, claimed a one-half interest in that
prosperous venture and sought an injunction to prevent the play from
being presented except under management of “Brooks & Belasco.” His claim
was flatly disallowed in a decision of the New York Supreme Court,
rendered by Justice Leventritt on October 31, 1904, in the course of
which the court said:
“...Undisputed proof by affidavit is offered that the [three]
theatrical seasons contemplated [in the Belasco-Warfield contract]
ended about the first of May or at all events before the first of
June. The _alleged_ renewal was made by the plaintiff Brooks
several weeks after this latter date.” Furthermore, held the court,
“Whether the option [of renewal] in fact passed to the firm [of
Belasco & Brooks]; whether, if it did, the plaintiff could exercise
it, are questions open to grave doubt; but, conceding the right of
the plaintiff Brooks, the papers show an exercise of the option
after the close of the third theatrical season and insufficient
proof of a custom that the right survived the termination of the
season.... To enjoin a successful actor’s lucrative performance of
a successful play under (_sic_) such circumstances, when in
addition no question of financial responsibility is presented,
would be to grant, in advance of trial, on insufficient proof, the
very relief which the action itself seeks. Motion denied, with ten
dollars costs.”
Belasco’s feeling about “The Music Master” and his esteem of and loyalty
to his friend Warfield are pleasantly shown in a declaration which he
made about them several years ago:
“From the time the play opened until the present day I have had
many offers for it. George Edwardes promised an enormous guarantee
if we would come to England. George Newnes, proprietor of ‘The
Strand Magazine,’ said: ‘I am not a theatrical manager, but I want
to bring your play and Mr. Warfield to England.’ Cyril Maude,
Arthur Bourchier, and Sir Herbert Beerbohm-Tree all applied for the
acting rights. Another great fortune could be made out of the piece
were I to allow it to be played in stock and moving pictures, but I
have turned a deaf ear to all inducements. ‘The Music Master’ is
for David Warfield; more than that, The Music Master _is_ David
Warfield.”
A SHEAF OF OLD LETTERS: IN THE MATTER OF THE THEATRICAL SYNDICATE.
All of the following letters by Belasco were written during the first
year of “The Music Master,” and they well characterize the purposes of
the Theatrical Syndicate and well indicate Belasco’s lively opposition
to that oppressive monopoly. The second of them is addressed to his
cousin, the son of the famous English actor David James, and it refers
to a proposal made by the younger actor so named that he should be
brought to America, to act in some of his father’s parts, under the
management of Belasco.
(_David Belasco to Blanche Bates._)
“Belasco Theatre, New York,
“September 28, 1904.
“My dear ‘St. Louis Pet’:--
“Thanks for your message. It was sweet of you and your dear mother
to think of me. Warfield and his little play hit them _hard_, and
we have struck another terrific blow in the _solar plexus_ of the
Syndicate.
“Mrs. Carter’s new play [“Adrea”] is written and I am already at
work on yours [“The Girl of the Golden West”]. I am crazy to see
you and go over the story before I get at the dialogue. As soon as
Mrs. Carter’s play is produced I shall join ‘The Darling of the
Gods’ for a few weeks, as we must have a lot of talks together. I
am going to do something _bully_ for you,--a part that you will
love. Won’t you be happy when you are again playing in New York at
the home theatre!
“Keep well. Love to your mother,--and remember I am
“Always your friend,
“DAVID BELASCO.”
(_David Belasco to David James, Jr., in London._)
“Belasco Theatre,
“New York, October 14, 1904.
“My dear David James:--
“Yours of October the 1st received. Yes, I did answer your former
letter. No doubt it followed you about and was finally lost.
Things theatrical are in a very bad way over here just now, and I
am still in the midst of a big combat with what is known as the
Theatrical Syndicate--a combination of men who have got together to
disgrace the Stage and commercialize it, root and branch. It is
rule or ruin with them, and unless they can force a heavy tribute
from a man he is blacklisted forthwith. I am fortunate enough to be
on their blacklist, and consequently am obliged, for the present,
to move with cautious steps and to make no more productions than I
can safely place. But it is to be hoped that a season or two will
see the lifting of this dark cloud. When that time comes, I shall
be only too happy to introduce you in this country. I know your
work and I feel sure that you would make yourself heard over here
had you the opportunity. Will you not drop me a line now and then?
I am always pleased to hear from you.
“Faithfully yours,
“DAVID BELASCO.”
(_David Belasco to Peter Robertson, San Francisco._)
RIGHT
“Belasco Theatre, New York,
“April 25, 1904.
“Dear Peter:--
“[E. D.] Price and Fred [Belasco] have been ‘kicking’ about the
vile cigars in San Francisco, so I am sending you a few weeds that
ought to be better than the Barbary Coast perfectos. Sorry I can’t
deliver them in person, but I cannot get away this year; so when
you are smoking them think of your old
Four-o’clock-in-the-morning-pie-chum. Heavens, my dear Peter, I
often think of those dear old days! They were struggling days for
us, to be sure, but sometimes I feel that, at least as far as I am
concerned, they were the happiest ones of life. Ambition is a
hard, hard master, and from the moment when I left ’Frisco it has
been constant work-work-work with me,
morning-noon-and-night--winter and summer! I don’t think I have had
half-a-dozen hours to myself in all that time, and to make my lot
easier, away off here in the East, I am surrounded by that
inartistic, low-lived Theatrical Syndicate, which for some reason
or other,--certainly not justly for anything I have done,--has
waged a relentless war against me. And since I cannot with honor
play in Syndicate houses I am sending my stars and productions
anywhere that I can find a roof to cover them. So far they have not
crushed me, as they said they would, for the public and the press
throughout the country have stood by me, and as long as I continue
to deserve their sympathies and friendship I shall be victorious.
In this combine against me, my dear Peter, are Al. Hayman and the
Frohmans, to whom you know I have given the best years of my life,
helping to make fame and fortune for them. Of course, with Charles
Frohman it is jealousy: Daniel Frohman resents not being able to
get my plays for nothing: with the Syndicate it is because they
feared I was getting a little too strong for them. But you knew me
as a boy--in fact, we were boys together--and no one in the world
knows better than you how I can struggle with privation and
adversity. I shall never surrender to this crowd: _never_--not even
if I am obliged to return to ’Frisco and do chores about a theatre
as you saw me do in the long, long ago.
“Well, I have written more than I intended to, telling you my
troubles, but I shall make it a rule to send you a line now and
then and let you know all the good and cheerful news of the East. I
would give a finger to be able to drop in on you at this moment
for a cup of coffee and a piece of pie in the little old
restaurant, if it is still in existence, and to have an old-time
heart-to-heart talk. But I hope it won’t be very long before I can
do this. Hurrah! God bless you!
“Faithfully,
“DAVID BELASCO.”
(_Peter Robertson to David Belasco, in New York._)
“Bohemian Club, San Francisco, Calif.,
“May 9, 1904.
“My dear Dave:--
“I shall smoke the cigars to your continued success. I was glad to
hear from you; but I don’t sympathize in the least with your
suffering from hard work. I did sympathize much more with you in
the days when you worked,--often quite as hard and got no
salary!--‘faking’ plays for Maguire, at the Baldwin. You would
never be happy, anyway, if you hadn’t your head full of schemes,
and were not constantly producing. Your work has achieved a great
success, and work that has success behind it and success before it
is life at its best. There is nothing so hard as work that has
failure to pull it backward and the prospect of failure to push it
back.
“_I_, too, think of the old days of coffee and cake; they were
pleasant, after all; if I had lived much beyond them since they
would still be pleasant to recall. However, my life goes on in its
even tenor, and I make myself as comfortable as possible, though I
do feel something like an old, worn-out hack--so many years I have
gone the same old round. Still, I have not quite given up hope of
better fortune.
“Go on and make your name and fortune greater than ever, and don’t
work yourself up over any Syndicates. They need you more than you
do them.--My regards to Mrs. Belasco and the family, and Fred and
Price.
“Always yours, “PETER.”
Belasco, I surmise, must have smiled a little grimly at this airy
admonition “not to work himself up” about the active antagonism of the
Syndicate: the cheery advice to the weaker party in a conflict, “Go in
and win,” is doubtless excellent, but often, unhappily, it is somewhat
more difficult to follow than it is to give. Viewed from the secluded
tranquillity of the old Bohemian Club--that genial harbor of congenial
spirits--a struggle with the Syndicate may have seemed like a fight with
a phantom. For Belasco it was, and for many years remained, a hard
reality, and had it not been for his wary vigilance and indomitable
resolution he would certainly have been defeated, overwhelmed, and
ruined.--Poor Robertson never realized his “hope of better fortune”: for
several years after 1904 he continued to be the dramatic critic of “The
San Francisco Chronicle”: then, the whole duty of the managing editor
(as defined by my old friend, the journalist William Seaver--“first, to
wring your brains dry; second, to throw you away”) having been
performed, he was dismissed from his employment and, after two or three
years of anxious, dispirited, lonely waiting, he died--and, save by a
few old friends, he is thought of no more.
METHOD OF COLLABORATION.
The tragedy of “Adrea,” begun in 1903, was completed before September,
1904, and it was put into rehearsal, at the Belasco Theatre, in October
of the latter year. The following letters which passed between Belasco
and his friend and associate John Luther Long afford an informing
glimpse of their methods of collaboration in authorship, which Belasco
has described in these words: “Before the actual writing of ‘Adrea’ we
had the story [worked out] to the smallest detail. He lived in
Philadelphia, but spent the latter part of each week with me. After the
plot was finished we adopted a new system of collaboration. Mr. Long and
I worked on the scenes apart, then met and joined them together. Then he
revised the result and then I revised the result, and so on, until the
sixth or seventh version found the scene in very good condition.”
(_John Luther Long, in Philadelphia, to David Belasco, in New York._)
“------, (?) 1903.
“I have now, my dear Goliath, been pretty well over the history of
Rome, once more, and I have found only two places where we MIGHT
possibly stick in our pin. One is the Augustan Era, and Livia and
Julia; the other is the reign of Claudius and Messalina. I don’t
think you would like either. I am sure _I_ don’t! Besides, both
have been done to death. There were NO woman rulers of Rome, and
only one--Messalina--who took much of a hand at politics. I think
we shall finally agree upon some island or mountain plateau--the
latter commends itself because the other has been so often done. I
think we could use either the island of Pandataria in the Adriatic,
or the little island of Ilva in the Mediterranean. We could have
all the Roman splendor there, without the handicap of being,
unhistorically, IN Rome. Here is the scheme which outlines itself
in my mind:
“When Rome was finally subdued, in A.D. 476, Romulus was on the
throne. He was kicked out and sort of lost--though he is said by
some of the histories I have read to have gone to live privately in
the Campagna. He does not seem to have left any heirs. But let us
give him some. Or _one_. This one seeks out one of these islands
and takes with him some Romans to build anew the debased Roman
Empire with the blood of the old Patricians alone. It is this
kingdom, several hundred years later,--so that four or five of
Romulus’ descendants may intervene,--where we locate our play. And
now, there are no males of the pure Roman blood and the succession
falls to the two women.
“I rather dislike the creation of a name, such as Romancia or
Ruritania or such like, and I think we could use the real name of
the island, if we adopt it. And both are pretty good names.
Pandataria. Ilva. Or we could, as you suggested, make some name out
of the real names: Pinda--Illus--Illa--and so on. All the histories
stop at that wonderful period of ours, 476 A.D., when our Odvokar
did the trick. (One of them goes on to say that he stops there
because the rest is too indecent for publication!) But I am on the
track of some good books treating of that period--though I don’t
expect to find a woman or a ruler in it all. For, in this period,
ALL the sovereigns, without exception, were elected by the soldiers
in the field and the corrupt pretorians at home--with, once in a
while, the people waking up and saying a word. After I have well
looked up this period, I will run over and we will talk--when you
can spare the time.
“Don’t forget to tell your girl to send me the copies she makes. If
anything should happen, by fire or flood, you have all the stuff
over there.
“Yours,
“J. L. L.”
(_David Belasco to John Luther Long, in Philadelphia._)
“The Belasco Theatre,
“New York, April 2, 1904.
“My dear Jonathan:--
“You are right about the bench. I had already noted it and called
Buckland’s and Gros’ attention to it, but outside of that
correction, when we make the model, both the scenes will be
corkers, full of the right sentiment and feeling--the atmosphere
perfect. I am running over to see Mrs. Carter to have a talk with
her about certain people for the cast
[Illustration: DAVID BELASCO
Inscription:
“_God bless you, dear friend!
Faithfully,
David Belasco._”
“_To William Winter, Esqre._”
Photograph by the Misses Selby.
Author’s Collection.
]
and also a general chat as to the costumer. She is miles deep
planning them already. Before she goes to ’Frisco you and I
together will have a talk with her.
“I am on the Fourth Act all the time. It is great--_great_--GREAT.
They can’t beat us--we are the top notches! Furst is going insane
with pleasure over his share of the work. He loves it and is so
infatuated that he is good for nothing else at present. In fact,
everybody who has anything to do with the play is wild over it. I
shall be back on Monday. What day after that can you come over? We
will get in some big licks with Buckland, as I want to start him on
the properties, etc., as soon as possible. God give us health and
strength to knock out the great play!
“Faithfully,
“DAVID.”
(_John Luther Long to David Belasco._)
“Gosh! but that letter is full of good news, Goliath dear! When the
scenery and costumes begin to materialize it looks as if the
brain-squeezing would really amount to something. I shall have the
Fourth ready for you by the middle of next week. Let me know a few
days in advance of the time you want it, so that it can be copied.
I am leaving a few little things to look up, but they are not
important: such as _drums_--whether they had them in the legions;
and, if so, what were their forms: and the Roman military salute.
But I am practically done with the act. I’d like to see the models
for the First. Perhaps I can, soon. I am feeling O.K. Equal to all
the work two hands and one head can do. Don’t bother about Frohman.
We’ve got him beaten! This Fourth Act, as I get into it, is
wonderful! Send on the Epilogue whenever you are ready with it. I
am doing nothing but the Fourth and shall not, till I send it on to
you.
“Hail, Luna of Adrea!”
“J. L. L.”
MRS. CARTER AND THE TRAGEDY OF “ADREA.”
The tragedy of “Adrea,” by Belasco and Long, is a composition of
exceptional imaginative scope and of great dramatic power. Its scene is
a royal court of a conjectural kingdom, situated on an imaginary island
in, perhaps, the Adriatic Sea. Its time is named as about the fifth
century of the Christian era,--a time well chosen for poetic and
romantic purposes; for the vast Roman Empire had then become
extinguished in Western Europe and was slowly crumbling to pieces in the
East, and minor monarchies can credibly be supposed to have flourished
in such an era of transition and a martial chieftain out of Noricum to
have dallied with the daughters of a Roman Prince. It is a play without
historic basis; an authentic creation of the inventive brain; a vigorous
and splendid work of art, moving freely in a broad field. It deals with
great themes,--great passions, crimes, and sorrows; great and terrible
punishments of sin, and the spectacle of great character made sublime by
grief. Much of its movement proceeds in the open air: some of it
beneath the vault of night; and its web involves the terrors of tempest
and the mystery and dread of spectres from the realm of death. The form
and color of it are modern,--a form and color of rosy amplitude and
voluptuous luxuriance; but the feeling that pervades it is the ominous
feeling of the old Greek tragedies of fate and doom. Its defect is
excess--an excess of persons, objects, pictures, emotions, and words;
the superflux that proceeds from intensely passionate feeling in the
conception of the story and especially in the conception and development
of its central character. An affluence of fancy is, however, more
grateful than the frigid sense of want. This is a synopsis of it:
The action begins in a spacious scene, in front of the royal palace of
the monarchs of the island kingdom. The _Princess Adrea_ is the blind
daughter of _Menethus_, _King of the Adrean Isles_. She is older than
her sister, the _Princess Julia_, and on the death of her father she
would succeed to the throne, if she were not blind: for the law of
_Menethus_ has ordained that “No sovereign shall wear the crown who is
not, both in mind and body, sound.” The play opens on the hundredth day
after the death of _Menethus_. The _King_ is dead, and the hour has come
for the crowning of his successor. The _Princess Julia_, long known as
“the imperial wanton,” with a company of her kind, is holding a
festival. _Kaeso_, born a barbarian, but later a pretorian tribune,
having come to Adrea, with his troops, intent on usurping the throne of
_Menethus_, sees a readier way of conquest, in a marriage with the
_Princess Julia_, soon to be _Queen_. He has been made her favorite, and
marriage with him is to follow her coronation.
In the course of the revel the blind princess, _Adrea_, passes, led by
an Egyptian named _Garda_, on her way to the temple, in which she is to
be secluded, so that her presence at court may not trouble her sister
_Julia_, whom the people of the kingdom detest. It is premised that in
Arcady, where _Adrea_ had dwelt with her father, she had known and loved
_Kaeso_, then one of the _King’s_ martial chieftains, and that he had
sworn to marry her, but had proved faithless. Now, at the _Princess
Julia’s_ festival, _Kaeso_ and _Adrea_ meet again, and _Kaeso_ kindly
greets the blind girl. This enrages the _Princess Julia_, who thereupon
commands him to declare to _Adrea_ that he does not love her, but loves
her sister _Julia_. This cruelty he must commit, as the price of the
kingdom. He submits; the imperious _Julia_ leads her train away; and he
is left alone with _Adrea_, to whom he discloses himself, and who
receives him with the deepest tenderness of faithful love. To her his
presence can mean only that he has come to keep his oath by marrying
her. _Kaeso_ forgets _Julia_, his ambitions--everything but the woman
who has come into his arms. The watchful _Princess Julia_, apprised by a
spy, the _Court Fool_,--_Mimus_, _the Echo_,--returns to see the lovers
in their ecstasy of reconciliation, and she at once determines on a
terrible revenge. _Kaeso_, seeing _Julia_, starts away from _Adrea_, and
_Mimus_, who madly loves the blind princess, takes his place. This
_Mimus_ happens to be in an armor like that of _Kaeso_, which he has put
on in a frolic; and when _Adrea_ reaches to find _Kaeso_ her hands touch
_Mimus_, and she eagerly claims him, believing him to be her plighted
lover. “And you shall marry him!” says the _Princess Julia_; grimly
adding, as a response to _Kaeso’s_ look of horror: “It is the price of
Adrea!”
A lapse of five hours is supposed. The scene is the same. The time is
near dawn. Soldiers are on guard. Challenges pass. Rumors have been
heard of ill to the beloved _Princess Adrea_. _Kaeso’s_ lieutenant,
_Arkissus_, devoted to _Adrea_, has heard these rumors, and he demands
an explanation of them from the now drunken and frenzied _Kaeso_. They
quarrel, and are about to fight, when a fearful cry is heard and they
halt. Then, staggering down the palace steps, moaning in agony, comes
the _Princess Adrea_, alone. Her prayer, like that of Ajax, is for
light. She beseeches the gods to grant her one moment of sight, so that
she may see the man to whom she has been given. The _Fool_ enters, to
drag her away,--for the _Princess Julia_, now _Queen_, has decreed
banishment of _Adrea_ and the _Fool_, and they must leave her kingdom
before the dawn. There is an ominous roll of thunder. The _Fool_ seizes
_Adrea_. Suddenly the heavens seem to answer her agonized supplication.
A bolt of lightning shatters the statue of her father, to which she has
been clinging, and there is an instant of darkness. When the light is
restored, a chaos stands revealed, in which _Princess_ and _Fool_ are
prostrated. _Adrea_ revives, and, with a wild cry, realizes that she can
see. Soon she remembers, and gazing down upon a “painted, hideous,
gibbering thing, in red and white,” she knows him for the _Fool_, who
has been described to her. She lifts his limp body and stares at his
vacant eyes: then she drops it and whispers, in horror: “Gods! _You!_”
The action now shifts to a structure called “The Tower of
Forgetfulness.” To this _Adrea_ goes, not thinking to take her throne,
but only wishing to die, and thus bury her shame. The Tower of
Forgetfulness is an obelisk of great antiquity, built half on the land
and half on the sea. Its door is never closed. Here the wretch who is
weary of life can drink “the cup of oblivion,” and, through “the door of
release,” sink into the sea, and be at rest. It is _Adrea’s_ purpose to
die. Then suddenly she hears the royal trumpets, the marriage song, and
_Kaeso’s_ song of battle. At the same moment her father’s ghost appears
and enjoins her to reign, for vengeance. Looking down upon the ocean,
she beholds _Kaeso_ and _Julia_, who are returning to the palace, after
their marriage. They are in her father’s royal galley, with his effigy
at the prow. “Stop them!” commands _Adrea_. “Bring my father’s galley
here! Say that _Queen Adrea_, rides to her coronation!” _Arkissus_
appears with his legions, and executes her will.
The coronation of _Adrea_ ensues. _Kaeso_ is brought before her, in
order that he may sue for pardon--which the heart of the injured _Queen_
is ready to grant. But _Kaeso_ is haughty, and the _Queen_ dismisses her
court, that she may judge him alone. She is temperate, lenient, and
fond. She pours out all her heart; but it is only to be dazed by
_Kaeso’s_ declaration that his regret is solely for his lost ambition.
He tells her that he knew of her spoliation, and allowed it. The _Queen_
recalls her court. “Set him upon a horse of state,” she says, “drest in
a robe of gold. Strew his way with roses! Let heralds go before him and
cry ‘Conqueror!’ ‘Imperator!’ Let maidens chant songs! And when he has
reached my gates, and his men and galleys are in sight,--_whip him!_
Whip him to his empty camp, and hold him captive there till the manner
of his death is decided.”
The scene changes to the _Queen’s_ Cabinet. _Kaeso_ is brought in on the
way to execution. It is the supreme moment of _Adrea’s_ life. The man
she loves is on the way to death. In spite of all her wrongs she will
look upon his face again, before it is mangled by wild horses’ hoofs.
Her heart still cries out for him. Even now she would save him, if she
could. But frenzied multitudes surround the palace, maddened with
knowledge of the outrages that the _Queen_ has suffered; and she is
powerless to save. _Queen Adrea_ must tell _Kaeso_ the manner of his
death. _Kaeso_ had thought to die as a soldier should--upon his sword,
but his death is to be that of a beast, trampled beneath the iron hoofs
of horses. This fate she proclaims, but, when the first shock of horror
is past, _Kaeso_ confesses that he deserves his doom, and declares that
he will die well: and then he says that he has always loved _Adrea_, but
has put his love aside, for the sake of his ambition. Again the _Queen_
relents. She will, at least, save him from a death of ignominy. She
offers him the sword of _Menethus_, with which to kill himself. But his
hands are chained. “You!” he begs. The thought is unendurable. She turns
away. But suddenly, turning back, she cries out, “Yes!” and drives the
blade through her lover’s heart.
The scene changes to Arcady. Eight years have passed. _Queen Adrea_ has
come to Arcady, and there she would remain at rest. But her people call
her back to Adrea. The stanch _Arkissus_,--who has always loved her,
whose one thought is of duty, and whose duty is to obey,--brings the
prayer of her subjects that she will return and rule over them. But here
are green fields, summer skies, and the shepherds and their pastoral
music: it is a halcyon place and time; and she would remain, and linger,
and die here, and rest beneath the sod that she and her first lover once
trod together. A trumpet sounds, and a captive youth is brought into her
presence. He is the son of _Kaeso_ and _Julia_, and he has sought the
throne of _Adrea_. He is vanquished, and his mother, _Julia_, has been
slain. But there are tears in _Queen Adrea’s_ eyes, as she looks upon
him, and her arms open to him--for he has the port and lineaments of
_Kaeso_. The _Queen_ and the captive play a game,--“the Game of Being
King.” _Adrea_ places the youth on her throne, sets her crown on his
head, puts her sceptre into his hands, throws her ermine on his
shoulders, and bids him “Reign in love.” “Open the casement,” cries the
captive boy, “Let in the sun, if you play fair and set no trap for me!”
“At the King’s command,” she answers; and in those words ordains her
fate, for _Adrea_ cannot again look upon the sun without loss of her
vision. She flings the casement wide open, and, in the sudden blaze of
light, goes blind: then, when the agony is past and night has come
again, she staggers to the throne and cries, “Long live the King!” For
still the law of succession is inexorable,--and so _Prince Vasha_
reigns, and _Adrea_ is once more only _Adrea of Arcady_.
No student of Roman history needs to be told that among the women of
Rome (and at one time all Italy was circumscribed within the capital)
there were females illustrious for almost celestial virtues and females
portentous for the monstrosity of their hideous crimes. The authors of
“Adrea” neither distorted nature nor exaggerated fact in their
portraiture of the two princesses, _Adrea_ and _Julia_, who are opposed
and contrasted in this remarkable drama of love, crime, frenzy,
retribution, atonement, and peace. _Adrea_ is not nobler or more
virtuous than Valentinian’s Eudoxia, nor is _Julia_ more malignant,
treacherous, and cruel than Justinian’s Theodora. In this tragedy the
purpose, obviously, was to present, amid regal accessories and in all
the paraphernalia of semi-barbaric splendor, a woman of lofty mind,
potent character, and impetuous passions, and, by making her the victim
not alone of blighted affection but of deadly outrage, to involve her in
a complex tangle of torment; to make her terrible in the delirium of
exasperated feeling; to display her emotional perturbation and fierce
and ferocious conduct in a vortex of tempestuous struggle; and, finally,
to depict her noble expiatory conquest of herself, and to leave her, in
her lonely majesty, a sublime image of triumphant virtue, gentle
fortitude, and patient grief. That purpose has been superbly
accomplished. To superficial observers, indeed, the presentment of
“Adrea” appealed chiefly by reason of its implication of theatrical
situation, its startling effects of climax, and its gorgeous scenic
investiture. To thoughtful minds it came home as an illuminative and
significant exposition of human nature, artfully made through the medium
of a wonderful picture of human life in the antique world,--and in that
it reached much further than merely to the fulfilment of any immediate
theatrical need. Like the more classic dramatists of the Garrick era,
its authors drew their inspiration from the great fountain of historic
antiquity--adjusting, rearranging, and emphasizing old types and old
examples to exhibit actually (and not by any dubious method of old
symbolism) what is in our own hearts and of what fibre we are all made.
Their play is an honor to them, and it is a rich and permanent addition
to the literature of the Stage.
Mrs. Carter impersonated _Adrea_, and finding in it a part into which
she could entirely liberate all her emotional power, without losing
control of it, she rose to the occasion. She had hitherto acted in
comedy, “sensation,” or sentimental, drama. The character of _Adrea_ is
wholly tragic. Through the wide range of conflicting emotions implicated
in her experience--the misery of blindness and loss of royal
inheritance, the ignominy of desertion by her idolized lover and of
betrayal into the lewd embraces of an odious menial, the paroxysm of
anguish when, to save her lover from a death of horror and shame decreed
by herself, she strikes him dead, and the humility of surrender when,
after years of bleak remembrance, she invites again the black eclipse
and forlorn disablement of blindness and delivers her kingdom to the
rule of her slaughtered lover’s son--Mrs. Carter moved firmly, steadily,
triumphantly,--commanding every situation and rising to every climax. No
denotement in Mrs. Carter’s acting of _Du Barry_ had even remotely
indicated such depth of tragical feeling and such power of dramatic
expression as she revealed in the scenes of the tempest, in pronouncing
_Kaeso’s_ doom, and, above all, in the terrible, piteous, tragic
self-conflict through which the Woman became the incarnation of Fate and
the Minister of Death. Mrs. Carter had long been known for her
exceptional facility of feminine blandishment, her command of the
enticing wiles of coquetry and the soft allurement of sensuous
grace,--known, likewise, and rightly admired for the clarity and purity
of her English speech, always delightful to hear: but observers studious
to see and willing to be convinced had not supposed her to be an actor
of tragedy. It took a long time for Belasco to bring her to a really
great victory, but she gained it in _Adrea_. The impersonation possessed
many attributes of beauty: symmetry, for the eye; melody, for the ear;
unity, continuity, sincerity, and sustainment, for the critical sense;
poetic atmosphere, for the imagination; but it possessed one supreme
attribute of terror,--absolute knowledge of human misery. “Look into
your heart, and write,” is an old poetic precept. “Look into your heart,
and act” ought to be joined with it: but God pity the heart into which
the true poet and the true actor must sometimes look!
“Adrea” was first performed in Washington, D. C., on December 26, 1904,
and in New York on January 11, 1905,--at the first Belasco Theatre. The
following is the original cast of that play:
_Kaeso of Noricum_ Charles A. Stevenson.
_Arkissus of Frisia_ Tyrone Power.
_Marcus Lecca_ R. D. McLean.
_Holy Nagar_ H. R. Roberts.
_Mimus, the Echo_ J. H. Benrimo.
_Bevilaccas_ Claude Gillingwater.
_Caius Valgus_ Marshall Welch.
_Sylvestros_ Gilmore Scott.
_Dyaixes_ Louis Keller.
_Bram-Bora_ Edward Brigham.
_Marlak_ H. R. Pomeroy.
_Master of the Tower_ H. G. Carlton.
_Servant of the Tower_ Gerald Kelly.
_The Shade of Menethus_ Charles Hungerford.
_Thryssos_ Francis Powers.
_Idmondus_ Gordon West.
_A Mock Herald_ Arthur Maryatt.
_Crassus_ Edwin Hardin.
_Herald of the Senate_ Franklin Mills.
_Page of the Senate_ Harold Guernsey.
_A Bargeman_ Luther Barry.
_Zastus_ Teft Johnson.
_Galba_ Harry Sheldon.
_Sigrad_ Charles Wright.
_Var-Igon_ F. L. Evans.
_Slave of the Whips_ James H. George.
_Slave of the Queen’s Door_ Joseph Moxler.
[Illustration: BELASCO’S “ADREA” CURTAINS
Photograph by Byron. Belasco’s Collection.
]
_The Child Vasha_ (in the epilogue) Louis Grimm.
_Julia Doma_ Edith Crane.
_Garda_ Maria Davis.
_Myris_ Corah Adams-Myll.
_Lefta_ Lura Osborn.
_Lelit_ Grace Noble.
_A Singing Bird_ Madeleine Livingston.
_Adrea_ Mrs. Leslie Carter.
Coincident with his production of “Adrea” Belasco’s fight for freedom in
the conduct of his business reached a climax that attracted nation-wide
and wondering attention and enlisted the sympathetic assistance of
eminent members of the national legislature. Whenever possible,
subsequent to his successful presentment of “The Heart of Maryland” in
Washington (October, 1895), Belasco has elected to bring out his new
plays in that city. There he desired to launch what was in some ways the
most ambitious venture of his career,--and there, accordingly, after
overcoming every obstacle that could be thrown in his way, he first made
known the tragedy of “Adrea.” But before narrating the manner in which
that production was effected it is desirable here to make somewhat
particular exposition of the antagonism he was compelled to encounter
and to record the significance of his long and costly conflict with it.
BELASCO AND THE THEATRICAL SYNDICATE.
JUSTICE AND THEATRICAL ACHIEVEMENT.
David Belasco has served the Public and the Theatre, ably and
brilliantly, in several fields and for many years, but his achievements
as at once theatre manager, stage manager, playwriter, instructor, and
“producer,” splendid and admirable as incontestably they have been and
are, have been equalled by other American managers, of earlier date. In
writing Biography it is prudent to remember that “there were heroes
before Agamemnon.” Much was accomplished on the American Stage long
before the advent of either David Belasco or any other theatrical
administrator of recent times, and when we review the history of the
drama in America for more than a hundred years, and consider the
managers by whom it has been fostered, conserved, and directed, we
should recall and honor the names,--among others,--of William Dunlap,
the elder Warren, William Wood, Francis Courtney Wemyss, James H.
Caldwell, Noah Ludlow, Edmund Simpson, Charles Gilfert, the elder
Hackett, the elder Wallack, William Evans Burton, and Thomas
Barry,--each of whom, in his day, deserved theatrical eminence and
gained it, and all of whom seem now to be forgotten. Lester Wallack, who
long preceded Belasco, and who also was theatre manager, stage manager,
playwriter, and actor,--and as actor with no superior and scarce an
equal in his peculiar realm,--gained laurels which will long endure.
John T. Ford, Boucicault, Barrett, McCullough, Edwin Booth, and John S.
Clarke,--all were accomplished and highly successful and distinguished
in every branch of theatrical management; and, although Belasco has
written his name imperishably on the honorable scroll of dramatic
renown, he has not eclipsed those eminent predecessors.
BELASCO’S UNIQUE SERVICE TO THE THEATRE.
In one service, however, that Belasco has rendered to the Theatre and
the Public he is peculiarly a benefactor, and in doing that service he
has encountered an antagonism and prevailed in adverse circumstances
with which the elder theatrical managers never had to contend. It would
be difficult to over-estimate the value of his intrepid opposition to
the tyrannical monopoly known as “The Theatrical Syndicate.” His
conflict with that arrogant, oppressive, pernicious organization,
sustained through a period of about twelve years, and finally
victorious, required unfaltering courage, tenacious purpose, skilful and
prompt action, and tireless persistence. It exacted from him prodigious
labor; it entailed upon him great expense and loss, and it compelled an
expenditure of time and strength which, if he had been left free to
devote it to his artistic labor, would have been productive of lasting
benefit to the Drama. But the sacrifice was well made, because the
Theatre and the Public profited by it,--as, earlier, and concurrently,
they profited by the resolute contest against the Syndicate (a valiant
and gallant fight for freedom and justice) waged by Harrison Grey Fiske
and Minnie Maddern Fiske. It should be noted that Augustin Daly,
Belasco’s immediate predecessor in the primacy of theatrical management
in America,--who, also, was theatre manager, stage manager, playwriter,
and “producer,” and who was consummate as an executive,--being assailed
by the Syndicate (as he several times declared to me), became one of its
active opponents and resisted its aggressions: but Daly, who died before
its despotic power had become matured, had long been an established,
powerful manager before it was formed, so that it could not do him much
harm. Belasco, on the contrary, was constrained to fight his way to
independence and influence against its active, relentless opposition
and inveterate hostility, from almost the beginning of his career in
theatrical management.
WHAT ARE WE DISCUSSING?
In the period of about sixteen years preceding 1912 the newspaper press
of America published many thousands of columns, often critical, at times
strongly censorious, about the “Trust” or monopoly which commonly is
known as “The Theatrical Syndicate.” Bitter fights likewise have been
waged not only in the press but in the courts relative to that
organization. The public has, from time to time, manifested interest in
the subject,--as, for example, relative to Mrs. Fiske’s appearance in
all sorts of unsuitable places, because the Syndicate had “barred” her
from the regular and (as they are technically styled) “first-class”
theatres, and to Mme. Bernhardt’s enforced performances in a circus
tent, for the same reason, and, especially, to Belasco’s almost
preterhuman efforts to present his plays in Washington (from which city
strenuous efforts were made by the Syndicate to exclude him). Yet I
believe that the public knowledge of the Syndicate,--its origin, aims,
character, policy, conduct, and effect,--has never been more than
superficial.
THE SYNDICATE-INCUBUS DEFINED.
What _is_ “The Theatrical Syndicate,” and _why_ should it rightfully be
denounced and opposed as a pernicious institution?
The Theatrical Syndicate, primarily, was a partnership of six men, all
speculative theatrical managers, formed for the purpose of dominating,
for the pecuniary profit, advantage, and personal aggrandizement of its
members, the theatrical business of America, and of doing this by
methods some of which, in their practical operation, are morally
iniquitous, and should be, if they are not, legally preventable, in the
public interest.
Those six men were: Al. (Albert) Hayman (deceased 1916), Charles Frohman
(deceased 1915), Marc Klaw, and Abraham Lincoln Erlanger, all of New
York; and Samuel F. Nirdlinger (known as Nixon) and J. Frederick
Zimmermann, both of Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. The contract under which
those persons formed their copartnership and carried on their syndicate
business was made in August, 1896, and it was renewed, in substance, in
April, 1900.
SPECIOUS PRETENSIONS TO JUSTIFY THE INCUBUS.
The founders of the Theatrical Syndicate have, with much fulsome
commendation of themselves and their purposes, directly or by
implication, sought to justify the position they have assumed by
specious assurances substantially to this effect:
That the theatrical business of America was disorganized, unstable, and,
in general, so conducted as to entail loss on many or most persons
engaged in it, by reason of _competition_, poor judgment, and lack of
discrimination in its transactions; that the prevalent administration of
it was not favorable to the development of actors and the promotion of
the art of the Theatre; that their combination was made to cure, and
that it did cure, the defects of theatrical business, stabilize it and
render it reputable and responsible,--placing it, in this respect, on a
level with other business; and that, incidentally, it would, and did,
tend to prosper the means whereby the Theatre must live--namely, Acting
and the exhibition of Acting. A. L. Erlanger, executive of the Booking
Department of this organization (that is, of the firm of Klaw &
Erlanger, the particular business of which was, and is, to “book,”
_i.e._, to arrange, the tours of theatrical companies), has thus stated
a part of his views relative to the character and doings of the
Syndicate:
“The American [theatrical] manager of to-day is _unique_,
_contrasting_ him with the _managers of long ago_, and that still
exist in England, France, and elsewhere, in that _he_ is
_qualified_ and _experienced_ in staging _all kinds_ of theatrical
entertainments.... As for the question of Commercialism _versus_
Art in Stage matters, I cannot see where the fact that financial
solvency, _making the business of the theatrical world comparable_
in its _integrity_ with that found in other occupations, lessens
the artistic value of the question [_sic_]. No actor will act the
worse because he knows his salary will be paid promptly; and the
fact that the business of the theatres is conducted on _firm lines_
is calculated to encourage, rather than dismay, the actor, the
dramatist, and everybody else whose interest in the Stage is
primarily artistic.”
In support of those views and in advocacy of the Syndicate of which he
was an active member the late Charles Frohman wrote (“The New York
Herald,” March 13, 1910): “Several men united to systematize the conduct
of the Theatre, _put the actor’s profession on a self-respecting
footing_, guard the playwright against piracy, protect the managers of
theatrical companies against unfair competition [_i.e._, competition not
profitable to the members of the Syndicate.--W. W.], at the same time
obliging them _to keep faith_ with managers of theatres.”
A third voucher for the exalted integrity and far-reaching beneficence
of the methods exemplified in the operations of the Syndicate was
furnished by Charles Burnham, at that time manager of Wallack’s Theatre,
not himself a member of the benign brotherhood, but obviously congenial
with it, and President of “The Theatrical Managers’ Association,” a
society which the Syndicate practically dominated:
“The commercialism of the drama,” so said that manager, “_has
justified itself...._ The Theatre of to-day is no Chicago
University or Carnegie Library. If you look after the _financial
end_ of the Drama, _which is the main thing_, the public may be
trusted to maintain a high standard.”
TENDENCY TO COMBINATION IN MODERN BUSINESS.
An honest, just, equitable organization of business is always right, and
no one but a fool or a knave would ever question the legality or
propriety of it. The drift of the present age, in commercial affairs,
is, and for a considerable time has been, toward combination,
organization--in a word, _efficiency_. Business men of the United
States, little by little, have awakened to the imperative necessity of
conservation of energy and resources, systematic labor, economy; the
sensible use of every force that tends to the advancement of
civilization, the increase of public prosperity, and the diffusion of
intelligence. One of those forces is the Theatre, and it is one of
prodigious influence. No intelligent observer acquainted with its
history would maintain that its condition, particularly as a business
institution, has ever been perfect or is perfect now. It is certain,
however, that its commercial condition has, within the last
half-century, very considerably improved, because not only have the ban
of the Church and the stigma of Society been, to a large extent, removed
from it, but great wealth has been bestowed on its enhancement, and
expert executive talent has sometimes been enlisted in the management of
its affairs.
CAUSES OF THEATRICAL PROGRESS.
It was not a commercial manager of the Syndicate type who first urged
the efficient management of the Theatre; it was an idealistic critic and
a great poet. Many years ago that ripe scholar and accomplished
man-of-letters Matthew Arnold exclaimed, in one of his Essays, “The
Theatre is irresistible--_organize_ the Theatre!” Arnold, as a youth,
had been entranced by the acting of Mlle. Rachel, and as a man had
naturally been charmed by the acting and greatly influenced by the
propulsive reformatory and constructive theatrical administration of
that great actor and theatrical manager Henry Irving. It is from such
sources of thought and of intellectual energy as Arnold and Irving, in
England, and as Wallack, Booth, and Daly, in America,[1] that the
impulse properly to organize the Theatre has proceeded; not from the
mere money-grubbing schemes of monopolistic cliques or speculators in
public amusement. Members of such cliques,--of which the Theatrical
Syndicate is one,--are, at times, frank enough to admit that (as they
are fond of expressing it) they are not engaged in theatrical business
“for their health,” and undoubtedly they are within their rights when
they seek, _by fair means_, to make their business profitable. So much
is understood and conceded: who would deny it? Monopolies, however,
frequently pose as public benefactors, and such, as already shown, is
the pose assumed by the Theatrical Syndicate. Many persons have, in one
way or another, been deceived by it, or brought to approve it. In 1898,
beginning to be conscious, in my critical and editorial work on “The New
York Tribune,” of an oppugnant influence emanant, apparently, from that
source, I determined to have a clear understanding with the late Donald
G. Nicholson, then the editor of that paper, and I formally asked him
whether “The Tribune” favored or opposed the Syndicate. In reply I
received from him the assurance that “of course ‘The Tribune’ _opposed_
it,” and also I received a printed list of newspapers which, Mr.
Nicholson informed me, had explicitly declared their opposition to the
Syndicate as being an unjust organization, hurtful to the Theatre and
adverse to the public interest. That list contained the names of most of
the leading journals of our country. But--“There are no birds in last
year’s nest.” Most of the opposers of the Syndicate seem, like the
_Witches_ in “Macbeth,” to have “made themselves air, into which they
vanished.” Active opposition to that incubus in the press is, at
present, conspicuous chiefly by its absence.
The pretensions of the Syndicate are one thing: its proceedings are
quite another. Equitable conduct has not been the spring of its
prosperity. Not by fair means has it become rich and powerful. Aside
from having somewhat facilitated the making possible of economically
practical routes over the country for travelling companies and the
transaction of business between resident theatrical managers and
representatives of travelling companies, it has done, literally, nothing
for the good of the Theatre; but it has done everything for the good of
itself. It is not to be supposed, for example, that because the making
of economical routes is _feasible_ through the booking agency of the
Syndicate, once such routes have been booked they are inviolate. “Dates”
are cancelled and “routes” are changed, when such change is requisite to
the advantage of the Syndicate, with total disregard of any other
consideration. “Where,” exclaimed Gladstone, “can you lay a finger on
the map of Europe and say, ‘Here Austria did good’?” Where can you lay a
finger on the map of progress in the Theatre in America and truthfully
say, “Here the Syndicate did good”?
THE RIGHT PRINCIPLE.
That the Theatre, to exist, must be self-sustaining; that its
administration “must show a profit,” is a proposition so elementary in
its truth and so universally conceded that it would be folly to restate
it, if there were not so much stupidity in the generally attempted
exposition of Commercialism in Art. But as a matter of right and duty
(and this is what, apparently, the Syndicate and congenial managers
_cannot comprehend_), theatrical managers are under distinct obligation
to consider the public good _before_ they consider their individual
prosperity. In other words, when a man assumes to make use of one of the
fine arts as a means of “doing business,” he assumes to wield an
indirect educational power; he undertakes,--whether he knows it or not,
whether he means to do so or not,--to affect the public taste, the
public thought, and the public morals. Therein, accordingly, he assumes
a responsibility much broader and much more important than that which is
incurred in an ordinary “business” pursuit; and, as it happens, he
assumes it under less restriction, by law, as to the possible effect of
his conduct than is imposed on the speculator in almost any other
“business.”
THE OBLIGATION OF INTELLECT.
Obligation of honesty and honor rests with equal force on all workers in
all branches of industry: but it is one thing to sell boots or pickles,
and another thing to disseminate thoughts and emotions. The more a man
ascends in the scale of labor the more exacting becomes his duty to
Society. A writer of novels, for example,--a Scott, a Dickens, a
Thackeray, a Cooper, or a Collins,--might, perhaps, find the largest
amount of personal emolument in writing stories calculated to vitiate
taste, injure public thought and public morals, and thus debase the
community, but, if he wrote such books, he would be a criminal, and it
would be no defence for him to say that he made money by his crime, or
to allege that because he made money the public approved of his actions.
Intellectual men have _no right_ to make money by misusing their powers.
The same sense of rectitude,--but broader, higher, finer,--that bids an
honest tradesman sell nothing that will injure the buyer enjoins upon
the worker in the arts that he should consider not merely the payment he
is to receive for his work, but the effect of that work upon the lives
and destinies of the human beings to whom it is addressed and whom it is
likely to influence. Theatrical managers stand in that position toward
the public. Thoughts and feelings are the wares in which they deal, and,
much as they are bound to consider financial profit (because they have
heavy burdens of expense to carry), they are also solemnly bound, first
and most of all, to consider the taste, the morals, and the intellectual
advancement of the community. The manager who aims at monetary gain as
the first and dominant object of his ambition and endeavor, to the
exclusion of all higher purpose, is a disgrace to his profession and an
enemy to social welfare. To him, as to the _Weird Sisters_, “fair is
foul and foul is fair.”
There are many vocations in which little is to be considered above the
till. No person is _compelled_ to assume the management of a theatre or
the direction,--invariably of potent force,--of an educational,
influential art. If he deliberately chooses such occupation and does
assume it, he assumes it with all its inherent responsibilities,--and
the greatest of these is moral and intellectual duty. No mistake more
foolish or more culpable could be made than to regard this standard of
conduct and responsibility as visionary, impracticable, or what this
deplorably slang-ridden community flippantly mentions as “highbrow
stuff.” No strenuosity of asseveration from theatrical janitors, “Great
Moguls,” “Napoleons of the Theatre,” bullies or gamblers, flatulent with
the wind of self-complacency and conceit, that conduct of the Theatre
justifies itself by mere financial gain can vindicate a theatrical
administration which benefits a few individuals at the expense of the
public good and by the oppression of honest competitors; and that,
practically, is the administration of the Theatre which is provided by
the Theatrical Syndicate.
The covenant made by the six members of the Syndicate contains much of
that verbiage which customarily encumbers legal documents. Some facts,
however, as to the results of its operation are apparent. Under the
contract, covering “different cities of the United States and Canada,”
independent theatrical companies, seeking to compete for public favor
and support, “were not permitted to play against” “other companies of
the same or different class,” owned, operated, controlled, or directed,
by the Syndicate. According to that covenant, “No attraction [_i.e._, no
company presenting a theatrical entertainment or performance] shall be
booked in _any_ of the said theatres or places of amusement [_i.e._,
theatres or places of amusement owned or controlled by the Syndicate]
which will [_sic_] insist on playing _in opposition_ theatres or places
of amusement in any of the cities” named in the Syndicate agreement,
unless by written permission of a Syndicate member, controlling a
theatre or theatres in such or such specific places where an independent
manager desired to present his company in an independent theatre. By
this arrangement the Syndicate, in effect, could say, and has said, to
managers of theatres outside its ownership or direct control: If you
wish to “play” _any_ of our “attractions,” at any time, you must play
_all_ the attractions we book in your theatre when we book them and on
the terms which we specify,--otherwise you _cannot have any_ of the
attractions which we book. To persons, whether star actors or managers
directing theatrical companies on tours through the country, desirous to
secure “bookings” in certain cities in which first-class theatres are
controlled by the Syndicate that organization could say, and has said,
in effect: If you wish to play in _any_ theatre owned or controlled by
us, you must play in every theatre, whenever and wherever we choose to
direct you to play, on whatever terms we choose to make for you. If that
is not, in effect, blackmail and extortion, compelling the transaction
of business under duress, what is it? The theatres owned, leased,
controlled by members of the Syndicate _are_ their theatres, and they
assert the right to conduct those theatres to suit themselves. Owners of
property certainly _are_ entitled to use it for their advantage; but
would any well-informed and fair-minded person maintain that the members
of the Theatrical Syndicate, using their property in the way I have
described, use it according to the dictates of justice? When that
kindred beneficence the Standard Oil Company desires to drive a small,
independent dealer out of business how does it go about the task? It
sets up a contiguous, superbly managed competing oil shop and undersells
the independent dealer, till he, lacking money to maintain a hopeless
struggle for his
[Illustration: THE MEMBERS OF THE THEATRICAL SYNDICATE
Al. Hayman Charles Frohman
Copyright by Charles Frohman, Inc.
Marc Klaw
Abraham L. Erlanger
Copyright, Rockwood
Samuel F. Nixon (Nirdlinger) J. Fred. Zimmermann, Sr.
“It is often true, as old _King Duncan_ declares, that ‘There’s no
art to find the mind’s construction in the face.’ Nevertheless,
study of the faces of the men who compose that sacred institution
of beneficence, The Theatrical Syndicate, is worth making. Such
study renders it easier to understand the condition of the Theatre
in America to-day.”--W. W.
]
livelihood, is forced to sell his business and desist from competition.
Then the benevolent national octopus gradually advances the price of oil
until at last the public in the neighborhood has paid the cost of
driving the small competitor out of business, the field is occupied
solely by the Standard Company, and it sells oil to the people for “all
the traffic will bear.” That method may be as _lawful_ in selling
“theatricals” as in selling oil, but--is it _right_?
If Belasco desired to present one of his “attractions,” in thirty cities
under the Syndicate domination (acceding to the terms imposed upon him),
but could, in one other city, present that “attraction” for ten weeks,
at an independent theatre, receiving eighty per cent. of the gross
receipts, while in the same city the Syndicate would “book” his
“attraction” at one of its theatres and graciously exact fifty per cent,
of the gross receipts, then Belasco would be necessitated to submit to
that predatory dictation, or else lose his “bookings” in the thirty
other cities,--in _all_ other cities,--in which the Syndicate controlled
the “first-class” theatres.
“THOSE SHALL TAKE WHO HAVE THE POWER.”
Perhaps that may seem an extreme case. Yet that is exactly what happened
to him. In 1902 Belasco produced “The Darling of the Gods,” Miss
Blanche Bates appearing in it as a star, in association with an
exceptionally fine and expensive company. That was a very costly
production: after two years of presentation of it Belasco had gained a
net profit of only $5,000,--while, had he chosen to do so, he could have
gained that profit in a fortnight with many an inferior vehicle. He was,
naturally, proud of his achievement. He desired that the play should be
represented within reach of the multitude assembled to view the World’s
Exposition, which was opened at St. Louis, in 1904, and he arranged to
present “The Darling of the Gods” at the Imperial Theatre, in that city.
As soon as this fact became known he was notified by Mr. Erlanger, on
behalf of the Syndicate, that he would not be permitted to do so,--the
reason being that the Syndicate would not tolerate the presentment there
of Belasco’s play in any but a Syndicate house, though the Syndicate
could not, or would not, provide him a theatre there for as long a term
as he could secure the Imperial. Belasco’s reply was that he would
certainly produce “The Darling of the Gods” in St. Louis, whereupon Mr.
Erlanger, in the presence of Belasco’s representative, destroyed and
threw into a waste basket a number of contracts, signed and executed,
providing for the presentation of that and other Belasco “attractions”
in theatres under Syndicate control in various cities of the Union and
Canada. This peremptory repudiative action, accompanied by much violent
expletive, no doubt was one of Mr. Erlanger’s genial ways of
illustrating the conduct of business on those “firm lines” he had
prescribed as so essential to theatrical regeneration, and of
illuminating the Syndicate’s righteous purpose, as stated by the late
Mr. Charles Frohman, to compel the managers of theatrical companies “to
keep faith with managers of theatres.” It clearly was a conclusive
example of the Syndicate’s beneficent methods.
“Thus bad begins and worse remains behind”: if the general policy which
I have specified is iniquitous, how shall certain other proceedings,
conducted by the executive of the Syndicate, in the development of the
business of the Theatre, be characterized? Let the reader assume that he
wishes to bring out a new star or a new play, in New York, and does so:
his venture is successful: he plays for a considerable term in the
capital: he wishes to “book” his “attraction” on the road. The charges
made for such booking service are, I understand, reasonable,--somewhere
from about $250 to $300 for a season’s tour. But does the reader suppose
he can get his play booked and his tour arranged as simply as by paying
an agent’s commission? Let him try: perhaps he will succeed:
“circumstances alter cases”: his play may have proved so popular in New
York that theatre managers throughout the country clamor to have it
exhibited in their theatres, in which case the Syndicate might become
placable; but such good fortune is dubious. It is far more probable
that, in order to obtain a desirable route through the first-class
theatres of the country, he will find it obligatory to make “a free
gift” of an interest of from one-third to one-half of his successful
venture (in which he has done all the original work and borne all the
expense and risk) to the benevolent and protective firm of Messrs. Klaw
& Erlanger,--as, for example, it appears from his sworn testimony (see
_ante_, pp. 18-19) that Belasco was forced to do when presenting David
Warfield in “The Auctioneer.”
DIVERGENT VIEWS OF THE SYNDICATE: GROUNDS FOR REASONABLE BELIEF.
It is not feasible to include in this Memoir a complete History of the
Theatrical Syndicate, examining every detail of its organization,
conduct, influence, and effect,--though such a history is a necessary
part of the annals of our Stage. In the absence of such exhaustive
record the partially informed reader may be confused, perhaps misled, by
dissentaneous views of the Syndicate--about which, be it observed, I
write as an uncompromising opponent. On the one side that Syndicate is
found portrayed by its advocates as an institution of light, leading,
and beneficence. On the other side, it is found represented as an
arrogant, ruthless, grasping monopoly,--exerting an actively injurious
influence on the Drama and the Art of Acting,--and as being composed of
ignorant, avaricious, vulgar men, unfit to dominate any art--and in
particular the _quasi_-educational art of the Theatre,--and regardless
not only of the public welfare as affected by the Stage but, at least in
some instances, regardless even of the public safety. The disparity of
sentiment is diametrical. But though a whole history of the Syndicate is
not here practical, is it not possible briefly to present essential
information bearing on the subject in such a way that the reader may
disregard the discordant and disputatious views of advocates and
opponents and form an independent opinion based merely on facts of
record? I think that it is. First, then, as to disregard of the public
safety by some members of the Theatrical Syndicate:
Soon after the burning of the Iroquois Theatre, in Chicago, December
30, 1903, during a performance there of “Mr. Bluebeard,”--a disaster in
which 602 persons horribly perished,--the New York weekly journal “Life”
published a cartoon portraying the exit of a theatre, with the door
padlocked and with smoke streaming through it, while women and children
were shown struggling to force it open and escape. A symbolic figure of
Death was shown standing beside that portal, and beneath the picture was
a caption reading: “Messrs. Klaw & Erlanger Present Mr. Bluebeard.” The
implication of that cartoon was, unquestionably, an accusation of
wholesale manslaughter. Messrs. Klaw & Erlanger, claiming that the
publication of it was a libel upon them, instituted a suit against
“Life” for $100,000 damages. That suit was tried in the United States
Circuit Court, New York, January 3 to 6, 1905, before Justice William J.
Wallace and a jury. The publication complained of was, in fact, beyond
question a libel. Under the law publication of libellous matter is
justified if it be _true_ and if it be made without malice, in the way
of legitimate comment or criticism. The issue in this case, therefore,
was perfectly clear. The jury decided in favor of “Life” after
deliberating less than five minutes--thus, in effect, certifying to the
truth and legitimacy of comment which amounted to an accusation against
Klaw & Erlanger of wholesale manslaughter through negligence.
Second, as to the characters and reputations of the men composing the
Syndicate and the question of their fitness to dominate the Theatre:
“The New York Dramatic Mirror,” on October 30 and November 13, 1897,
published articles, written by its editor, then Harrison Grey Fiske,
which stigmatized the members of the Theatrical Syndicate as a “_band of
adventurers_, who imagined that they could manipulate the amusement
business _for their sole gain_”; as men actuated by “clannish greed and
selfishness”; as “mercenaries” who threatened “the welfare of the
Stage”; as persons who, in their business, were guilty of maintaining a
“_system of double-dealing_, of _false pretences_, and of
_misrepresentation_”; as “illiterate managers”; as an “insolent and
mischievous clique of theatrical middlemen”; as “insolent jobbers,”
“theatrical throttlers,” “crooked _entrepreneurs_” and “an un-American
and intolerable combination of greedy, narrow-minded tricksters.”
The several members of the Syndicate, resentful of these explicit
strictures, instituted suit against Fiske, asserting that in making and
circulating the statements about them just quoted he had uttered a
“false, defamatory, scandalous, and malicious libel” which had “injured
the complainants in their good name, fame, and reputation,” and
otherwise damaged them, all in the sum total of $100,000. The complaint
in this action was filed on November 19, 1897.
Fiske answered, in effect, that his charges against the Syndicate were
“made in behalf of the public and [of] those engaged in the theatrical
line or profession in the United States” and were set forth as “_a fair
and true statement_ of the object and purpose of the Syndicate”; that
his articles complained of were true and not malicious, denying that
they constitute a “false, defamatory, scandalous, and malicious libel”;
asserted that “Al. Hayman was not a person of good name, fame, and
reputation,” but “that he [Hayman] with his co-complainants did by a
system of double-dealing and false pretences and misrepresentations to
the public and those engaged in the theatrical business unite and band
together by wrongful and improper expedients” to mislead and defraud the
public; “that the said J. Fred Zimmermann is not a person of good name,
fame, and reputation”; that A. L. “Erlanger is not a person of good
name, fame, and reputation, but that, on the contrary, the said A. L.
Erlanger has been arrested and convicted of crime in the State of
Pennsylvania,” and that “the name, fame, and reputation” of the
plaintiffs had been “truly set forth in the said articles mentioned in
the plaintiffs’ complaint.”
Of course, to _make_ such damaging accusations is not to _prove_
them,--whether they be made in a newspaper or in a legal instrument: the
noblest and best men and women the world has ever seen, or ever will
see, all are liable to traduction and attack. But the members of the
Syndicate, after taking cognizance of these accusations, after declaring
under oath that they had been damaged by the making of them in the
amount of $100,000, and after the braggart spokesman for the group had
asserted in print that “we mean to make Mr. Fiske prove his allegations
or publicly acknowledge his mistake,” dallied and delayed in the case
for two and one-half years (during all of which time Mr. Fiske, as he
personally and repeatedly assured me, was not only willing but eager to
go to trial on the facts),--and then, April 18, 1900, _discontinued
their action_. Commenting on this proceeding, Fiske said, in “The
Mirror”:
“No pretence of legal unreadiness and no motion for delay of this
case have ever proceeded from the defence.... ‘The Mirror’ has been
not only ready but eager at all times since the joining of issue in
this case to thoroughly thresh the matter out in open court.... The
case never has been pushed in court, and _it is evident that the
plaintiffs never had any intention to try it_.”
Judicious readers will, I believe, agree that the course of the members
of the Syndicate amounts, practically, to a confession of the truth of
Fiske’s charges; and surely, in the circumstances, they can neither
wonder nor complain because those charges have been generally
believed.--As to the power exerted by A. L. Erlanger over Belasco and
the quality of the Theatrical Syndicate as a monopoly, I consider the
arraignment made by Samuel Untermyer, before the Appellate Division of
the Supreme Court, to be perhaps the best and most entirely just that I
have ever read:
“...Of course Belasco went to Erlanger’s house and was a
suppliant to the tender mercy of Erlanger to permit him to hire
theatres in which to produce his play. He went there because the
Syndicate’s unholy and criminal alliance which controlled the
principal theatres throughout the country had made it impossible
for any man with a play, a company, scenery, costumes, and all the
requirements for a complete production to book his play (which
means to find a roof under which to produce it) except by the grace
of Klaw & Erlanger, who controlled the Syndicate and the theatres.
And they could ask just such proportion of the profits by way of
rent and impose such other conditions as they chose. Of course
Belasco went to Erlanger’s house, and when he confronted ‘the great
man’ he not only agreed to pay the rent, generally _fifty per cent.
or more of the gross receipts_ of every performance, for the
theatres, but he was also forced to agree to give secretly to Klaw
& Erlanger under cover of Brooks’ name fifty per cent. of all the
profits of that production. No wonder Erlanger did not want that
little arrangement known to his Syndicate
[Illustration:
Photograph by Byron. Belasco’s Collection.
THE CROWNING ROOM,--BELASCO’S PRODUCTION OF “ADREA”]
partners! Why should not Belasco go to Erlanger and smilingly
consent to be fleeced? His venture was ruined unless Erlanger would
furnish ‘bookings’ on any terms Erlanger chose to extort. Should
the King go to the Beggar? Or was it meet that Belasco the Beggar
for a chance to pay for the use of theatres in which to produce his
own play with his own company, should go humbly to Erlanger, the
King of the Syndicate that controlled the theatres?
“No such despotism has ever been known or dreamed of in this
country and none so fatal to the development of art as the evidence
discloses this Theatrical Syndicate. Every monopoly that has been
dragged into the court pales into insignificance and seems almost
harmless beside it. Every owner of a theatre contracted with
throughout the country was required to agree not to permit his
theatre to be used for any performance not under the direction [of]
or assented to by the Syndicate even during the times it was not in
use or being paid for by the Syndicate!...”
CONVERTING CONVENTION HALL:--“ADREA” IN WASHINGTON.
Using the despotory power alluded to by Mr. Untermyer, the Syndicate
closed all the theatres of Washington against Belasco when he attempted
to arrange for the presentment of his tragedy. “My _penchant_ for giving
the first performances of my plays before the Washington public, because
I got the real start of my independent career there,” Belasco remarked
to me, “may be, as some unfriendly critics have declared it, a
‘sentimental folly,’ but it pleases me to do so, and it seems to me to
be a matter for _me_ to decide. The less likely it became that I could
get into Washington with ‘Adrea’ the more determined I became to do so.”
The result of his determination was that Belasco suddenly and privately
hired Convention Hall, a vast, barn-like place in Washington,
inconvenient of access, situated over a market, with seating capacity
for more than 5,000 persons. It contained no stage and was in every way
unfit for theatrical use: in brief, what Belasco did was, first, to hire
a roofed space, and then build a theatre beneath it,--incidentally
complying with all the mysteriously sudden and preternaturally exacting
requirements of various administrative departments of the District of
Columbia. “In all my experience,” he remarked to me, “I never knew such
vigilance to be exercised about a theatrical performance, and I should
never have been able to meet the almost incessant and sometimes most
unreasonable demands upon me if it had not been for the kindly advice,
guidance, and assistance of Senator Gallinger and of Speaker Cannon, who
had been interested in my fight by a _protégé_ of his, Mr. Sidney
Bieber; but, one way or another, every demand was met.” About one-third
of the hall was partitioned from the rest of it by a temporary wall and
a proscenium arch. Behind this a commodious stage was erected,--all the
labor of building being performed by a company of mechanics brought by
Belasco from his New York theatre. The iron girders supporting the roof
and also the exposed parts of the ceiling were draped and covered with
fire-proof cloth and gauze, dark green in color. Several carloads of
rich hangings and furniture which Belasco had originally purchased for
use in “Du Barry” and “The Darling of the Gods” were taken to Washington
and used to decorate the interior of this improvised theatre. Seats were
arranged, the aisles were carpeted, “boxes” were built, a gallery was
erected at the rear; a chill and barren loft was converted into a
spacious, warm, and handsome playhouse, and on Christmas Eve all seemed
to be in readiness for the opening--and then the Fire Department
condemned the electric-lighting system. “For a little while,” said
Belasco, in relating the story of this enterprise, “I thought they had
me beaten, and after I had spent thousands of dollars. But I put my case
before the Edison Electric Company--and between Saturday and the
following Monday evening the Edison people tore out the condemned system
of wiring, put in a new one, laid a special main for the supply of
current, got it all inspected and passed, and we opened as advertised
on Monday night! _I_ wanted to get out on the footlights and crow! As to
safety--everything had been done and we had, for an audience of 1,400,
the spaces, exits, and stairways previously considered safe for crowds
of from 5,000 to 6,000.”
Belasco’s conversion of Convention Hall into a theatre, for the
production of “Adrea,” and the difficulties encountered by him in doing
so caused much comment in the newspapers of the capital, and shortly
before the first performance he published the following letter in “The
Washington Post”:
“The editorial in this morning’s ‘Post,’ under the title, ‘Theatre
Regulations in Washington,’ conveys several erroneous impressions,
and I ask this intrusion on your space to state certain facts with
which the Washington public has not hitherto been made familiar.
When I conceived the idea of using Convention Hall for Mrs. Leslie
Carter, my very first step was to come to Washington personally, to
learn directly from the heads of the building, fire, and electrical
engineering departments what changes or safeguards would be
required by each to enable me to use Convention Hall with their
entire approval and in conformity with the law. During a series of
subsequent conferences plans were made and submitted, embodying not
only all the requirements of each department, but several
additional improvements--such as wider aisles, more exits, broader
exit space, etc. These plans were fully approved by the necessary
officials of the District.
“Having thus secured the proper indorsement, and having placed
myself right with the municipal departments, I proceeded at great
expense to make these extensive alterations, seeking, above all, in
the interest of the public, to fulfil not only the letter but also
the spirit of the law. I already have done more than I was asked to
do, and no obstacle was raised until after the work was completed.
The structural changes have been made in strict and ready
compliance with the requirements of the District officials, and
under their supervision. _My one thought, first, last, and all the
time, was to comply with the law and protect the public._ I fully
believe that I have done so.”
The representation of “Adrea” was received with extraordinary enthusiasm
by a large and brilliant audience, not a single member of which left
before the close of the performance, long after midnight. During the
Fourth Act a violent rainfall, beating on the iron roof of the hall,
rendered much of the dialogue inaudible, and soon, the roof leaking in
many places, water poured down through the cloth and gauze hangings,
deluging the audience with green rain. “I saw Admiral Dewey, in one of
the boxes,” said Belasco, “holding an umbrella over a lady whose
beautiful white gown was ruined with green blotches; and in another
Secretary Morton and Admiral Schley with the green water splashing down
on them. But, even though they had to sit under umbrellas or be soaked,
_my audience stayed to the very end_! Is it any wonder I love the
Washington public?”
In the local newspapers, on Christmas Day, Belasco published the
following notice “To the Washington Public”:
“Mr. Belasco begs to state that his occupancy of Convention Hall
for Mrs. Leslie Carter’s initial performances of her new play is
because of the opposition of the Theatrical Trust, through whose
dictation no theatre in Washington is permitted to book his
attractions. Unwilling, however, to surrender his custom of making
his productions first in this city, he has rebuilt the interior of
Convention Hall, in strict observance of the legal requirements of
the District departments, and with every regard for the comfort and
safety of his patrons. He begs also to thank the people of
Washington for the friendship and most liberal support which
already assure the success of his independent enterprise.”
When called upon the stage during the opening performance of “Adrea”
Belasco made a brief speech of thanks, the first sentence of which
brought an outburst of applause that lasted for more than two minutes:
“Well, ladies and gentlemen, they did not prevent my opening in
Washington. And as long as this is a free country and I am able to
fight for independence in theatrical management, I will open my
companies in Washington, or in any other city that I elect to
visit. It is very late: I won’t detain you but a moment, just to
thank you in words that can’t convey my thanks for your approval,
your sympathy and support. Mrs. Carter, Mr. Long, all my company,
my staff--my loyal, splendid staff, carpenters and mechanics who
have worked here, ladies and gentlemen, for as much as forty-eight
hours at a stretch to make this opening possible--they all are
grateful to you, and I thank you, and thank them, again and again.
It would be strange indeed if we were not willing to fight for the
chance to play before you when you are all so kind to us and when
the man who fought the Battle of Manila Bay and the man who fought
the Battle of Santiago are willing to sit in a sort of green
shower-bath to watch us!”
Belasco gave seven performances of “Adrea” during his week in
Washington, the gross receipts from which were more than $15,000. And
when that engagement was over and the accounts had all been made up and
paid he had suffered a loss of a little more than $25,000.--On the first
night in New York he made a significant speech in which he said:
“...Nobody could ask--nobody could wish--for any more splendid
loyalty, support, and encouragement than I have received from you,
from the people of New York, from the people of every place in
America where I have presented my companies, and I am grateful,
very, very deeply and lastingly grateful, ladies and gentlemen. But
conditions in the American Theatre are bad, ladies and
gentlemen,--very bad indeed--and they ought to be remedied. The
institution we all love should not be left at the mercy of
high-handed, brow-beating, un-American hucksters. We are not afraid
of anyone, ladies and gentlemen: we--all of us; my associates, my
business staff, my splendid, loyal mechanical staffs, my
actors--have had a long, a hard and bitter struggle and have
suffered very serious annoyances and loss. I have just paid more
than $25,000 for the privilege of presenting this tragedy for one
week in the City of Washington. We do not ask or expect that life
should be made easy for us; we can fight, just as you can, for our
rights. But I say, ladies and gentlemen, that it is a crying
outrage and a burning shame that men and women who simply want to
go about their own business in their own way should be forced, in
this day and country, to undergo what we (all of us here behind the
curtain and in the offices of my theatre) have to undergo from week
to week. And, ladies and gentlemen, it is you, the public all over
this great country, who are most injured by it all--because we
cannot give you what you are entitled to get from us when you pay
your money to see our plays and what we want to give you,--that is,
the very best there is in us: we cannot give you that, ladies and
gentlemen, when we have to give so much of our time and strength
and energy and enterprise and courage to fighting a criminal
monopoly when we ought to be giving it and want to be giving it to
writing and producing plays and acting in them, for your
entertainment and pleasure.”
EXIT MRS. CARTER.
“Adrea” was the last new play in which Mrs. Leslie Carter appeared under
the direction of Belasco. Her first season in that tragedy closed at the
Belasco Theatre, May 4, 1905; the second (in the course of which she
acted _Du Barry_ and _Zaza_
[Illustration:
Photograph by Byron. Belasco’s Collection.
MRS. LESLIE CARTER AS _ADREA_, IN THE TRAGEDY OF THAT NAME]
as well as _Adrea_) began there, September 20, that year, and lasted
until June 23, 1906, when it was ended at Williamsport, Pennsylvania.
Differences of opinion and divergence of interests had been growing for
some time between the manager and the actress who owed so
much,--everything, in fact,--to his sagacity and guidance. On July 13,
1906, at Portsmouth, New Hampshire, Mrs. Carter was married to William
Louis Payne, and withdrew from the direction of Belasco,--Mr. Payne
assuming the care of her affairs. In _Adrea_ she touched the highest
point of all her greatness and, thereafter, may fairly be said to have
hastened to her setting. At the time of her withdrawal from Belasco’s
management he was at work on a new play for her, dealing with the
experience of an Hungarian immigrant. It was to be called “Repka
Stroon”: although it has been finished it has not yet been acted. Mrs.
Carter has done nothing of lasting importance since her personation of
_Adrea_. Her acting, at its best, was far stronger in the emotions than
it was in the intellect; but, in _Adrea_, she met and endured the test
of tremendous situations involving conflict of various passions, and in
that respect she proved her possession of tragic power. In fact, the
defects of her performance of that part were wholly in the superficial
texture of the method, and it came home to the heart with an exceeding
effect of pathos because of the sad knowledge with which it was
freighted,--the knowledge of affliction and of grief.
SIGNIFICANT MESSAGES.
The following telegrams, sent by Belasco and his general manager,
Roeder, are significantly indicative of the consideration shown by the
former toward the players in his employ, as well as of the character of
his mind, and for that reason they are printed here: the actor referred
to, Mr. Benrimo, who played the _Fool_ in “Adrea,” might properly enough
have been transferred to Mrs. Carter’s company, without discussion:
(_Telegram, David Belasco to Blanche Bates, in St. Louis._)
“New York, October, 1904.
“You know I would not do anything to imperil your cast or to
jeopardize our western tour. Always thought it unadvisable to
double _Prince_ and _Kato_ in San Francisco and always intended
sending another man to play _Prince_.
“If it were not absolutely necessary for me to have Benrimo in my
new play, I would not ask for him. There happens to be no man
disengaged at present to suit this peculiar part, which means so
much to the success of the play. You may not quite understand why
it should be so, but so it really is. At the present moment I am
engaged in the greatest fight of my life and everything depends on
this new production. Its success will leave me free to give all my
attention to your new play for next season and will ensure the
working out of all my plans. It is only with our triumphs that I
can hope to beat the Syndicate. My dear girl, by this time I am
sure you have reconsidered your telegram and will help me out.
Please--please, do! There is nothing within my power that I will
not grant if you ask it, so I beg of you again, please help me out.
“DAVID BELASCO.”
(_Telegram, Benjamin F. Roeder to Blanche Bates in St. Louis._)
“New York, October, 1904.
“In making original cast ‘Darling’ Mr. Belasco requested other of
his stars, who gladly consented. Regret, as one of your best
friends, that you don’t follow dictates your own heart and accord
what is, after all, only a courtesy. Mr. Belasco has been kind and
generous to you always. Money has never stood in way when he could
do anything to make you happy. In consequence Chicago fire we are
still much money behind on original investment ‘Darling’ and Mr.
Belasco has more than fulfilled his contract with you. We paid out
thousands to secure your new play--have been obliged to forfeit all
and Mr. Belasco has been forced to write one himself to give you
‘Blanche Bates part.’ I have not shown him your telegram and don’t
want to. This is the time he needs good soldiers. Be one like the
rest of us. You will lose nothing in the end. Anyway, Benrimo is
not ’Frisco favorite. Under no circumstances could we allow two
such important parts to be played by one man in ’Frisco. Mr.
Belasco is rehearsing the new men. They leave Wednesday and will
strengthen the cast.
“B. F. ROEDER.”
(_Telegram, David Belasco to Blanche Bates, in St. Louis._)
“New York, November, 1904.
“Thanks! Thanks! You’re a dear brick and some day I will do as much
to relieve you of anxiety. Buy the prettiest and finest rider’s
dress, with hat and cloak to match, and send the bill to me. I am
sending you two good actors, one for the _Prince_, the other for
the _Fisherman_. I am rehearsing them myself. After all, it would
have been dangerous for us to permit any one actor to double the
parts in ’Frisco. You must think so too, so instead of weakening
the cast I am strengthening it.
“But never mind that, you have helped me out of a dilemma and
you’re a bully girl. As soon as the play is on I shall join the
company and spend some days with you to talk over your new piece
and the cast. It will be well to begin to get the eight people
under contract. If all goes well,--and it will,--you’ll be in New
York _all next year_! Love to your mother and yourself.
“DAVID BELASCO.”
VARIOUS LETTERS AND INCIDENTS OF 1905.
In June, 1905, Belasco, accompanied by Mr. Roeder, sailed for England,
his purpose being to purchase, if possible, or else to arrange to build,
a theatre for his own use in London,--as Daly had done many years
before. This ambitious project, however, proved impracticable of
execution and, though he has never finally abandoned it, he found
himself forced by circumstances to set it aside and he soon returned to
America. While he was in England the subject of his fight against the
dominion of the Syndicate was discussed in various newspapers: in one of
them I find the following letter:
(_David Belasco to “The London Referee.”_)
“Hotel Russell, Russell Square,
“London, W. C., June 17, 1905.
“To the Editor of ‘The Referee’:
“Sir:
“A sympathetic article in an evening paper, speaking of the methods
of the American Theatre Trust, and their efforts to crush me, also
stated: ‘Let there be no misunderstanding. Mr. [Charles] Frohman
may be entirely exempted from inclusion in this indictment. His
operations in London are in direct competition with those of the
Trust.’
“In order to prevent any ‘misunderstanding’ I would like to ask:
‘_Why_ should Mr. Frohman be exempted from this indictment?’ In my
suit brought against Messrs. Klaw & Erlanger in New York, in April
last, among other things for the purpose of exposing the methods of
the Theatrical Trust, there was produced in court the original
Syndicate agreement, made in August, 1896, and renewed in August,
1901. This agreement was signed by Charles Frohman, Klaw &
Erlanger, Al. Hayman and Nixon & Zimmermann, and according to the
evidence is still in operation. Further comment is, I think,
unnecessary.
“I am,
“Faithfully yours,
“DAVID BELASCO.”
Soon after his return to New York Belasco received a message from the
great singer Mme. Ernestine Schumann-Heink, who had been much impressed
by his presentment of Warfield in “The Music Master,” who desired to
adventure on the dramatic stage, and who proposed that Belasco should
undertake her management and write a play for her use. This he gladly
agreed to do, and the play, which was to have been a sort of sister
piece to “The Music Master” and was to have been called “The Opera
Singer,” was planned and in part written; but the demands on Belasco’s
energies and time were more than any one person could meet and he was
regretfully forced to relinquish that project. “It hurt me to let go,”
he said: “I had a good story. Mme. Schumann-Heink had great natural
talent for acting, and I believe that if I could have carried it
through, working in a tremendous scene for her, as a singer on the opera
stage, we should have set the country wild. But--there is a limit, and I
was pretty near to mine, so _that_ little scheme went up in smoke!”
The following letters all are characteristic of Belasco in varying
moods:
(_David Belasco to Blanche Bates._)
“Belasco Theatre, New York,
“April 3, 1905.
“My dear Blanche Bates:--
“I have received a note from Mr. William Courtleigh of the Actors’
Society in which he asks if it is possible for you to appear with
Mr. Wm. Gillette at their benefit. I have promptly said ‘No.’ In
the first place, you are not going to support Mr. Gillette. You
would do all the hard work--yelling, shouting and running about
like a maniac,--while he sat calmly smoking his cigar, with a
calcium light upon him. Besides, this would be no novelty, as
Gillette did the same thing at the Holland Benefit and I saw the
poor little -------- girl disgrace herself. There is nothing at all
in these ‘benefits,’ and I hope you are pleased that I got you out
of this one.
“With all good wishes,
“Faithfully yours,
“DAVID BELASCO.”
(_David Belasco to John Luther Long, in Philadelphia._)
“Belasco Theatre, New York,
“April 26, 1905.
“My dear John:--
“I have just received the beautiful Tennysonian verses. I shall
_dramatize_ them, of course, and you were bully to send them to me.
“But really, Jonathan, haven’t we given that gang of grafters a
shake-up? It cost me a lot of money,--but (thank Heaven!) I had it
to spend, and could unmask them. If I have done a wee bit of good
in helping to clear away the rubbish, I am more than rewarded.
“Good luck to you, and my best affection!
“Faithfully,
“DAVID BELASCO.”
(_David Belasco to Mrs. F. M. Bates._)
“Belasco Theatre, New York,
“July 13, 1905.
“My dear, dear Mrs. Bates:--
“I am so sorry I did not see you the other morning when you called
at the theatre, but I have been nearly crazy with neuralgia for the
past week.
“I am a little bit behind on Blanche’s play, and am hurrying off to
Shelter Island to take off my coat and go to work on it. Tell our
Blanche it is a _bully play_, and that the character of ‘_the
girl_’ is sky-high--fits her from her head to her feet! I expect to
have it in shape shortly now, and in her hands to study. I am
getting together a _bully_ cast for it. I really think the new play
_is my very best_, and I know she will be happy. Give her my love.
“Faithfully,
“DAVID BELASCO.”
(_David Belasco to Blanche Bates, in San Francisco._)
“Belasco Theatre, New York,
“July 20, 1905.
“My dear Blanche B.:--
“Your letter received.
“I got a little behind on the play; you know I had to run off to
London to do big things for the future, and when I got back I went
under with my old attacks of neuralgia. You know how I suffer with
them, and really, this time the pain was excruciating. I’m glad to
say that I am all right again and I am working night and day,
hoping that it is the best play I ever wrote. Your part fits you
from your dear little feet up to your pretty head. It’s a _bully
part_, and I know you will like it. If you don’t,--well, you need
never kiss me again! I call the play ‘The Girl of the Golden
[Illustration:
Photograph by William Crooke, Edinburgh. Author’s Collection.
HENRY IRVING IN THE LAST YEAR OF HIS LIFE--1904-’05]
West.’ The characters call you ‘_The Girl_.’ The models of the play
are fine--the last scene of all, ‘In the Wilderness,’ is a gem.
There are some beautiful speeches in the play--very ‘Batesesque’;
the lines just _crackle_ and all the situations are human.
“Yes, send along the photo, and I will have a poster made of you.
“_Entre nous_, we open in Pittsburgh, before coming into New York,
playing there for two weeks at the new Belasco Theatre, as the
stockholders have named it. It will be a great night.
“Just keep well, enjoy your summer, and the moment I have finished
the play,--which will be in about three weeks,--I will rush it into
your hands.
“With love, hugs, kisses and things,
“Faithfully,
“DAVID BELASCO.”
(_David Belasco to Frederick F. Schrader, in Washington, D. C._)
“Belasco Theatre, New York,
“July 22, 1905.
“My dear Mr. Schrader:--
“Many thanks for your letter and for your kindly interest. I am so
glad that the press out West has taken up the question of the
Theatrical Trust so splendidly. It helps us in the big fight. There
is a hard year before us, and if we win I think we shall have
succeeded in breaking the tyrannous ring. The London press was
bully. I was interviewed extensively and succeeded in getting many
leading papers interested. They have taken up the Trust question
seriously over there. I hope you read ‘The Referee.’ They began a
series of Trust articles in the number before the last. The
article was written in a very forcible style.
“Regarding the theatre in Washington, what you write is very
interesting and I shall be most happy to hear more about it.
“Mr. [Fuller] Mellish called to see me, and there is an
understanding that at the first opportunity I shall gather him in.
Then,--he may remain with me for life, if he wants to.
“With kindest regards to yourself and your wife, I am,
“Faithfully,
“DAVID BELASCO.”
TRIBUTE TO IRVING.
While Belasco was in Washington, with his new play “The Girl of the
Golden West,” there befell one of the saddest bereavements and one of
the greatest losses the Stage has ever known,--the sudden, pathetic
death of that great actor and manager and even greater man Henry Irving,
which occurred at Bradford, England, October 13, 1905, immediately after
the close of his performance in “Becket.” Belasco, always one of his
disciples and most ardent admirers, when informed of his death, paid him
this tribute:
“There are no more such masters! The English-speaking, the modern,
Stage has lost its greatest inspiration! The name of Henry Irving
stood for all that was artistic in the highest sense. He was the
loyalest servant of the public; the friend, the champion of the
Stage. He belonged to us almost as much as to England. And what is
saddest of all, he leaves no one behind him to take his place. He
was a great, a marvellous, actor, a dramatic genius; he was the
greatest stage director of modern times; he was the prince of
managers; and, what was best of all, he was the best and kindest of
men and the truest of friends. God rest his great soul! He has died
as he would have wished, but we shall not look upon his like
again.”
BLANCHE BATES AND “THE GIRL OF THE GOLDEN WEST.”
Belasco’s stirring play of “The Girl of the Golden West” was first
produced at the new Belasco Theatre, Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, on
October 3, 1905. It is a fabric of situations contrived for the
advantageous display of that old, familiar, everlasting, always
effective theatrical personage, the Rough Diamond. The Girl was
beautiful, intrepid, passionate, vivacious; the soul of innocence; the
incarnation of virtue; the blooming rose of vigorous health; and she
could swear fluently, play cards, and shoot to kill. She kept a drinking
shop, she was adored by all “the boys”; and the fame of her probity and
her many fascinations filled the countryside of California, in the
halycon days of ’49. That fortunate State, according to the testimony of
novelists and bards, was densely populated at that time by girls of this
enchanting order; but this particular _Girl_ seems to have transcended
all rivals. She was beloved by a picturesque and expeditious outlaw,
_Dick Johnson_, known as _Ramirez_, who had gained brilliant renown by
means of highway robbery, and likewise she was beloved by the local
_Sheriff_, _Jack Rance_, a grim, obnoxious officer, self-dedicated to
the wicked business of causing that outlaw’s arrest and death. Both
those lovers were ardent, and, between those two fires, her situation
was difficult; but she always rose to the occasion, and when her outlaw
was entrapped by his pursuer the ingenuity of her love and the dexterity
of her stratagem delivered him from bondage, and, upon his promise of
reformation and integrity, launched him upon a new and better career.
The most conspicuous display of her passionate devotion and adroit skill
occurred on a night when he was captured in her dwelling. The
circumstances were essentially dramatic,--because the _Girl_ and her
favored swain were storm-bound in a mountain cabin, whither the
_Sheriff_ had tracked his prey; and the robber had been shot and
wounded, so that there seemed to be no method of escape for him, till
the _Girl_ proposed a game of poker with his foe, staking herself
against the liberty of her sweetheart, and won it by successful
emulation of the _Heathen Chinee_,--substituting “an ace full” for an
empty hand, at the decisive moment.
[Illustration:
Photograph by Otto Sarony. Collection of Jefferson Winter.
BLANCHE BATES AS _THE GIRL_, IN “THE GIRL OF THE GOLDEN WEST”]
There came a time, however, when even Love could do no more; but at that
crisis Fate interposed, in the shape of Public Opinion,--that is to say,
the friendship of “the boys,”--and the _Girl_ and her lover were united.
The condition of California in 1849 was, to say the least of it,
turbulent. Some parts of that State are in a turbulent condition now.
Groups of “the boys” can still be discovered. They are not paragons,
though, and they never were. The existence of good impulses in uncouth
persons does not make them less uncouth. Fine qualities can, and do,
exist in beings who are unfamiliar with soap and the toothbrush; but it
would seem that the study of human nature can be pursued, more agreeably
than elsewhere, among saponaceous branches of the race. It is more
pleasant to read about “the boys” than it is to see them. But, broadly
speaking, in Belasco’s drama the _Girl_ is the play, and with Miss Bates
as the _Girl_ there was little more to be desired. Shorn of all
extraneous fringes--variously impious, improper, vulgar, and offensive
interjections of profanity and violent expletive--the play is the image
of a lovely, impetuous woman’s devotion to her lover,--a devotion that
is shown in a series of actions by her to save him from danger and ruin
and to make him happy. Feminine heroism is the theme, and the _Girl_
selected to exemplify it is meant to be “a child of nature,” simple,
direct, and true--and Belasco was entirely accurate when he wrote that
the part fitted the actress for whom he made it from her head to her
feet. Given the specified ideal to interpret, Miss Bates placed her
reliance on Acting, and there were moments in her performance,--as, for
example, in the First Act, as the _Girl_ speaks of the protective
instinct in the heart of woman,--when the soul that showed itself in her
face was beatific. She gave, throughout, a personation of extraordinary
variety and strength. In the situations devised for the
heroine,--situations, which, while not radically new, are ingeniously
contrived and are fraught with the dominant spell of suspense,--the
actress had to express the growth of love; the blissful sense of being
loved; the bitter pangs of jealousy; the passionate resentment of a
heart that thinks itself betrayed and wronged by the object of its love;
the conflict of anger with affection; the apprehension of deadly peril,
and the nobility of self-conquest. The exaction of the part is
tremendous, equally upon physical resource and nervous vitality, but, at
every point, it was met and satisfied. The play exemplifies its author’s
remarkable faculty of continuation in the making of characteristic
dialogue, together with ample felicity of invention, and it is overlaid
with profusion of details. The midnight tryst of the _Girl_ and the
_Road Agent_ is not altogether a credible device, but, once assumed and
arranged, that situation,--comprehending the outlaw’s detection, as
such, by the _Girl_, the awakening of furious jealousy, her turning him
out into the storm, her subsequent harboring of him, and the game of
cards with the outlaw’s life and liberty staked against the _Girl’s_
whole future,--is handled with consummate skill and moulded to splendid
results, and there the acting of Miss Bates rose to a magnificent climax
of emotion, fully expressed and yet artistically controlled and
directed,--a triumph of intellectual purpose.
This was the original cast of “The Girl of the Golden West”:
_The Girl_ Blanche Bates.
_Wowkle_, an Indian squaw Harriet Sterling.
_Dick Johnson_ Robert Hilliard.
_Jack Rance_ Frank Keenan.
_Sonora Slim_ John W. Cope.
_Trinidad Joe_ James Kirkwood.
_Nick_ Thomas J. McGrane.
_The Sidney Duck_ Horace James.
_Jim Larkens_ Fred. Maxwell.
_“Happy” Haliday_ Richard Hoyer.
_“Handsome” Charlie_ Clifford Hipple.
_Deputy Sheriff_ T. Hayes Hunter.
_Billy Jackrabbit_, an Indian J. H. Benrimo.
_Ashby_ J. Al. Sawtelle.
_José Castro_ Roberto Deshon.
_Rider of the Pony Express_ Lowell Sherman.
_Jake Wallace_, a travelling camp minstrel Ed. A. Tester.
_Bucking Billy_ A. M. Beattie.
_The Lookout_ Fred. Sidney.
_A Faro Dealer_ William Wild.
_The Ridge Boy_ Ira M. Flick.
_Joe_ H. L. Wilson.
_Concertina Player_ Ignazio Biondi.
_Citizens of the Camp and Boys of the Ridge._
A THRILLING STORY--AND A TRUE ONE.
One of the most tense and effective passages in contemporary drama is
that contrived by Belasco, in this play, when the _Sheriff_ detects the
concealment of the _Road Agent_, _Johnson_, in the _Girl’s_ home.
Through the swirling snow he has caught a glimpse of a man’s figure near
to the cabin of the _Girl_, has shot at it, and has, in fact, hit and
grievously wounded _Johnson_, who has then been given refuge in the
cabin and concealed by the _Girl_ in a low loft. _Rance_, having come to
the cabin and been assured that nobody is concealed there, is about to
leave. He goes toward the door, he is about to open it and step out, but
turns to speak to the _Girl_, holding a white handkerchief with which
he has wiped the snow from his face; as he does so, a drop of blood
falls from the helpless wounded man above him upon the handkerchief,
then another,--and _Rance_, watching the little crimson stain grow,
instantly comprehends. Belasco, referring to this device, which,
obviously, is as simple and as possible as it is effective but which was
somewhat censured by captious fault-finders, writes this interesting
account of its origin:
“It was from my father that I first got the idea which afterwards
so well served me in ‘The Girl of the Golden West,’--the incident
of the Sheriff and the blood dripping on his handkerchief. The
experience occurred during the Cariboo mine period. My father and
his friend, Shannon, with several others, had a hut together. There
had been a heavy snow, so for awhile they had to give up all idea
of prospecting. Food was growing very scarce, until finally the
twenty-four huts that constituted the expedition could boast of but
three or four loaves of bread, one bottle of whisky, a scant supply
of bear meat, and some straggling fish. The miners were apt to be
careless, and the food supply became so low that it was necessary
to form a committee to guard the precious stores. A Sheriff and a
commission of deputies made a law that anyone taking more than was
handed to him should be shot without trial. Thus things went on for
a few weeks. A poor fellow from Philadelphia who was in camp had
had the blues for months before this, and had made every effort to
start for home. In the midst of the famine he was taken with the
hunger fever, and when the boys told him that he was very low he
cried out that he did not want to die. So one night he sneaked over
to the box, and stole a bit of bread and beef and some gold dust.
Then he fled from camp. The next day he was missed, and the loss in
the chest discovered. The Sheriff immediately went after him.
Instinctively the poor fellow must have felt that he was being
followed, for he doubled on his own tracks, and came back to the
hut. My father was playing poker at the time, and presently heard a
shot outside. The missing man staggered into the room and fell at
the feet of the players. ‘Humphrey,’ he gasped, ‘for the sake of my
wife, don’t let them do me up. Save me!’ My father told him to get
out or be plugged, and he pulled his gun from his belt. But at the
same time my father did not say anything when the fellow crawled
upstairs into the loft. Hot upon this came the Sheriff, asking all
sorts of questions, but never a guiding answer did he receive from
the players. Then he joined the game, just as he did in ‘The Girl
of the Golden West,’ my father living an eternity while the man was
above them. They let the Sheriff win so as to make him feel good,
and the game finally broke up. As he held his hand out to my father
for a good-night shake a drop of blood fell upon his arm. A
blanched face looked down through the rafters, a hand clutched
nervously at a shirt, now deep-stained in red. The Sheriff gazed at
the telltale spot on his arm, and smiled cynically as one can
afford to do who is master of such a situation.
“‘Did you fellows know he was up there?’ he asked, taking his gun
from his pocket.
“There was nothing to be said; the facts were against it. The
victim was caught. There was no staying the hand of the law; one
could see this very well as the Sheriff gripped his gun and drew
himself up to his full height. Standing there, his gaunt shadow
thrown against the wall, his white face etched deep with marks of
hardship and of toil, he poked the muzzle of his gun between the
rafters and fired. He had done his job, and so he left without
another word.
“Now, the morning after ‘The Girl of the Golden West’ opened, one
or two critics declared that I did not know the times; they said
that my gambler, so distinctively played by Frank Keenan, was a
caricature, that he was taken from prints rather than from life.
Why, I know the period of ’Forty-nine as I know my alphabet, and
there are things in my ‘The Girl of the Golden West’ truer than
many of the incidents in Bret Harte!”
A MASTERPIECE OF STAGECRAFT: THE STORM IN “THE GIRL OF THE GOLDEN WEST.”
Considered technically, Belasco’s production of “The Girl of the Golden
West” was a genuine masterpiece of stagecraft, and it is specially
memorable for the perfect example it exhibited of the right use of
“realism” in the Theatre,--the use, in this instance, of an artfully
created and perfect semblance of Nature in one of her wildest, most
terrible moods as a background,--always felt, yet never obtruded,--for
dramatic action the effect of which it steadily augmented and enforced.
Nothing of the kind which I have ever seen in the Theatre has fully
equalled in verisimilitude the blizzard on Cloudy Mountain as depicted
by Belasco in the Second Act of this fine melodrama--such a bitter and
cruel storm of wind-driven snow and ice as he had often suffered under
in the strolling days of his nomadic youth. When the scene, the interior
of the _Girl’s_ log-cabin, was disclosed the spectators perceived,
dimly, through windows at the back, a far vista of rugged, snow-clad
mountains which gradually faded from vision as the fall of snow
increased and the casements became obscured by sleet. Then, throughout
the progress of the action, intensifying the sense of desolation, dread,
and terror, the audience heard the wild moaning and shrill whistle of
the gale, and at moments, as the tempest rose to a climax of fury, could
see the fine-powdered snow driven in tiny sprays and eddies through
every crevice of the walls and the very fabric of the cabin quiver and
rock beneath the impact of terrific blasts of wind,--long-shrieking down
the mountain sides before they struck,--while in every fitful pause was
audible the sharp click-click-click of freezing snow driving on wall and
window.
The means by which this effect of storm was produced could easily be
specified and described; in themselves they are as simple as those
employed by Belasco to make the almost equally impressive tempest in
“Under Two Flags”: but it is a capital mistake to take the public behind
the scenes of the Theatre and thus uncover the very heart of the
players’ mystery and destroy illusion. In this instance it is enough to
say, as revealing Belasco’s liberality, thoroughness, and care in
placing his plays before the public, that operation of the necessary
mechanical contrivances required a force of thirty-two trained
artisans,--a sort of mechanical orchestra, directed by a centrally
placed conductor who was visible from the special station of every
worker. And it will, perhaps, be usefully suggestive to misguided
exponents of literal “spontaneity” in Acting to mention that the
perfectly harmonious _effect_ of this remarkable imitation of a storm
necessitated that at every performance exactly the same thing should be
done on the stage at, to the second, exactly the prearranged instant.
A pleasing device utilized by Belasco in the investiture of this
melodrama was a variant of the long familiar panorama which, moving from
bottom to top of the stage, instead of across it from one side to the
other, showed, first, a beautiful and romantic view of Cloudy Mountain
and of the _Girl’s_ cabin, perched, like an eyrie, high upon a canyon’s
side; next, a winding mountain path leading down to a settlement and
ending outside her saloon, the Polka: then, in a fleeting instant of
darkness, the scene was changed to the interior of that saloon, where
the action of the play begins. In this production, also, Belasco
banished the usual orchestra and substituted for it a band of homely
instruments,--the concertina, the banjo, and “the bones” of the old-time
minstrels,--which discoursed such old, once familiar but now
long-forgotten, airs as “Coal Oil Tommy,” “Campdown Races,” “Rosalie,
the Prairie Flower,” “Pop Goes the Weasel,” and “Old Dog Tray.”
THE PARTING OF BLANCHE BATES AND BELASCO.--“THE FIGHTING HOPE” AND
“NOBODY’S WIDOW.”
“The Girl of the Golden West” proved to be as successful as its author
had expected: also, greatly to the disadvantage of the public, it proved
to be the last important production in which, down to the present day
(1917), Blanche Bates has appeared,--although she continued to act under
the management of Belasco for about seven years. Three of those years
were devoted to “The Girl,” which was presented throughout the country.
Then, September 7, 1908, at the Belasco Theatre, Washington, Miss Bates
was brought out in a new play by Mr. William J. Hurlbut, entitled “The
Fighting Hope,” which was acted in New York, September 22, at the
Stuyvesant Theatre. It held the stage there until January 16, 1909; was
transferred to the Belasco Theatre, January 18, and remained visible
there until April 10. This was the cast:
_Burton Temple_ Charles Richman.
_Marshfield Craven_ John W. Cope.
_Robert Granger_ Howell Hansel.
_Anna_ Blanche Bates.
_Mrs. Mason_ Loretta Wells.
“The Fighting Hope” served as a professional vehicle for Miss Bates
during two seasons. On October 24, 1910, at the Euclid Avenue Opera
House, Cleveland, Ohio, Belasco presented her in “Nobody’s Widow,” by
Mr. Avery Hopwood: that play was first acted in New York, November 14,
that year, at the Hudson Theatre, with the following cast:
_Roxana Clayton_ Blanche Bates.
_Betty Jackson_ Adelaide Prince.
_Countess Manuela Valencia_ Edith Campbell.
_Fanny Owens_ Dorothy Shoemaker.
_Duke of Moreland_ Bruce McRae.
_Ned Stephens_ Rex McDougall.
_Baron Reuter_ Henry Schumann-Heink.
_Peter_ Westhrop Saunders.
Both those plays, though they enjoyed profitable careers, were, in fact,
stop-gaps: they had never been produced but that “the strong necessity
of the times enforced”: “Blanche wanted to appear in ‘drawing-room’
drama,” Belasco has said to me; “I was hard pressed and I took what I
could get.” Both those plays owed their profitable careers entirely to
Belasco,--to his unremitting and unacknowledged diligence in the labor
of revising them and making them feasible for stage use and to the
perfection of detail with which he invested their production and caused
them to be acted. A whimsical remark which he once made to me, in
conversation about another play, applies with force to both these
ventures: “I have,” he said, “first and last, paid many authors handsome
royalties for the privilege of working like a slave on their plays,
without credit and generally without thanks, and making them into
popular successes. Each time I have solemnly sworn I’ll never do it
again--yet, somehow, I do! But I live in hope that some day somebody
will bring me a _finished play_ that only needs production.”
“The Fighting Hope,” even as rectified and notwithstanding its measure
of popular success, was but a flimsy fabric,--crude in construction and
improbable in plot, though at times theatrically effective. In it is
displayed an experience of a loyal wife, _Anna Granger_, who clings to
“the fighting hope” of vindicating her husband and rescuing him from
the consequences of crime. That husband, a peculiarly contemptible
scoundrel, has been detected in a forgery; has been tried, convicted,
and imprisoned. His wife, believing him to be innocent and the victim of
_Burton Temple_, president of a fiduciary institution, obtains
employment in the service of that person and becomes his confidential
secretary. In that capacity, after discovering and shamefully destroying
a letter which establishes the guilt of her husband, she discovers,
also, that she is beloved by _Temple_ and that a reciprocal sentiment is
developing in her own bosom. And then, having confessed her identity,
her wrong conduct, and her regard, she is relieved from a distressing
dilemma by the convenient taking off of her husband,--who, having
escaped from the State Prison at Sing Sing, is overtaken, shot, and
killed by officers of the law who pursue him. In the hands of any other
manager than Belasco, instead of enduring for two years, this piece--if
it had ever been produced at all--would have been relegated to the
regions of tall timber and high grass within a fortnight.
“Nobody’s Widow” is an ephemeral farce, the central idea of which is
denial of an established relationship in circumstances which might cause
absurd perplexities and ridiculous consequences,--such, in general
character, as ensue when _Charles Courtly_, in “London Assurance,” on
being introduced to his father, _Sir Harcourt_, blandly greets him as a
new acquaintance. The chief female character, _Roxana_, acted by Miss
Bates, has, in Europe, met and married a “_Mr. Clayton_,” who, actually,
is an English nobleman, the _Duke of Moreland_; but having, on their
wedding-day, found him in the embrace of a former mistress, _Roxana_ has
repudiated and left him,--privately instituting proceedings for divorce,
and presently apprising her friends in America that her husband, of whom
they have heard, but only by his assumed name of _Clayton_, is dead, and
that she, accordingly, is a widow. Later she visits some of those
friends at Palm Beach, Florida, and there she is, by chance, confronted
by her husband, then a visitor to the same hostess, but bearing his
right name. _Roxana’s_ husband endeavors to reinstate himself in her
affections, but, persistently and with alternate pleasantry and sarcasm,
he is treated by her as an accidental acquaintance. _Roxana_ assures him
that, as “_Mr. Clayton_” he is “dead”; that she has never seen him
before; that to her he is, as the _Duke of Moreland_, nobody; that she
is nobody’s widow. That attitude she maintains until apprised of her
divorce, when she becomes conscious of a sudden access of tenderness for
him;
[Illustration:
Photograph by Mishkin Studio. Belasco’s Collection.
TO DAVID BELASCO
A souvenir of the production of the opera, “The Girl of the Golden
West,” by Giacomo Puccini
G. Gatti-Casazza David Belasco A. Toscanini Giacomo Puccini
]
and, eventually,--though not until after various trips and stumbles on
the track of reconciliation,--she first allows herself to be again
married to him, and then allows herself to be convinced of his honest
intentions and the sincerity of his love. A farce is well enough in its
way: but to record industry of such a manager as Belasco and such an
actress as Blanche Bates in such stuff as “Nobody’s Widow” is only to
record wasted opportunity and disappointed expectation. In conversation
with me Belasco has once or twice intimated some thought of proposing
the resumption of Miss Bates’ management: it might be greatly to the
public gain if that actress should return to his direction; but, while I
earnestly hope it may come about, I do not believe it ever will:
“The Bird of Time has but a little way
To flutter--and the Bird is on the Wing.”
A GREAT NIGHT.--BELASCO AT THE METROPOLITAN.--A GENEROUS ACKNOWLEDGMENT.
During the season of 1906-’07 Belasco’s friend the Italian musical
composer Puccini, who desired to write an opera on a characteristically
American subject, made a visit to our country for the purpose of
selecting one. While in New York, in January, 1907, he attended
performances by Miss Frances Starr in “The Rose of the Rancho” and by
Miss Bates in “The Girl,”--at the Academy of Music. After considerable
cogitation his choice fell upon the latter, and while travelling to his
home in Italy he wrote the following letter to Belasco:
(_Giacomo Puccini to David Belasco._)
Hôtel de Londres, Paris [France],
March 7, 1907.
“Dear Mr. Belasco:--
“I was exceedingly sorry to have left New York without seeing you
once more. I have been thinking so much of your play, ‘The Girl of
the Golden West,’ and I cannot help thinking that with certain
modifications it might easily be adapted for the operatic stage.
Would you be good enough to send me a copy of the play, to Torre
del Lago, Pisa, Italia? I could then have it translated, study it
more carefully, and write to you my further impressions.
“I cannot express to you all the admiration I feel for your great
talent, and how much impressed I was at the drama I saw at your
theatre.
“With kindest regards, and hoping to hear from you soon,
“Yours sincerely,
“GIACOMO PUCCINI.”
Puccini’s wish was immediately complied with, and upon the basis of
Belasco’s melodrama he wrote his opera of “La Fanciulla del
West,”--which was sung, in Italian, “for the first time on any stage,”
December 10, 1910, at the Metropolitan Opera House, New York: the
libretto was “arranged” by
[Illustration:
IN REMEMBRANCE
PUCCINI’S OPERA “THE GIRL OF THE GOLDEN WEST”
Giacomo Puccini Arturo Toscanini
(P. by Dupont) (P. by Dupont)
Belasco
(P. by Abbe)
G. Gatti-Casazza Otto H. Kahn
(P. by Dupont) (P. by Pach)
Emmy Destinn
(P. by White)
Pasquale Amato Enrico Caruso
(P. by White) (P. by White)
]
Signori G. Zangarini and C. Civinni: it is, substantially, a
translation, until the last act, when a scene is introduced showing the
imminent lynching of _Johnson_ by “the boys” in a convenient grove of
redwood trees and his rescue by the _Girl_. This scene, as I understand,
was originally planned by Belasco for use in his play but was by him
discarded. “La Fanciulla del West” was sung for the first time by an
extraordinary cast, which should be recorded. This is it:
_Minnie_ Emmy Destinn.
_Dick Johnson_, (_Ramirez_, the road-agent) Enrico Caruso.
_Jack Rance_ Pasquale Amato.
_Nick_, Bartender at the “Polka” Albert Reiss.
_Ashby_, Wells-Fargo Agent Adamo Didur.
_Sonora_ } { Dinh Gilly.
_Trin_ } { Angelo Bada.
_Sid_ } { Giulio Rossi.
_Bello_ } Miners { Vincenzo Reschiglian.
_Harry_ } { Pietro Audisio.
_Joe_ } { Glenn Hall.
_Happy_ } { Antonio Pini-Corsi.
_Larkens_ } { Bernard Bégué.
_Billy_, an Indian Georges Bourgeois.
_Wowkle_, his Squaw Marie Mattfeld.
_Jake Wallace_, a Minstrel Andrea de Segurola.
_José Castro_ Edoardo Missiano.
_The Pony Express Rider_ Lamberto Belleri.
_Men of the Camp and Boys of the Ridge._
CONDUCTOR ARTURO TOSCANINI.
Belasco felt profound interest in the production of his friend’s opera
and directed many of the rehearsals, intent, as he has declared, “to
make the artists act as well as sing.” That, doubtless, was a laudable
ambition,--but, practically, it is, in the very nature of things,
impossible of fulfilment, whether by Belasco or another. Opera singers
may be, indeed, frequently are, dramatic in temperament: they are not
and can not simultaneously be excellent as actors and as singers.
Sometimes a comparatively poor singer becomes, in opera, a tolerably
good actor,--but that is the limit of achievement in this direction.
True _impersonation_, as made known on the dramatic stage,--in, for
example, Forrest’s _Othello_, Davenport’s _Macbeth_, Jefferson’s _Rip
Van Winkle_, Barrett’s _Cassius_, Irving’s _Mephistopheles_,--never has
been and never can be displayed on the operatic stage.
Talking with me about the first performance of this opera, Belasco said:
“It was a great night for me, and I took unbounded pleasure in it and
felt much honored when I found myself taking curtain calls with the
author, Toscanini, Gatti-Casazza, Caruso, Miss Destinn, and the rest.
Puccini, as always, was simple and frankly demonstrative in his delight.
The singers were all wild with enthusiasm--I was never so much be-kissed
in my life!--but I think I was, perhaps, most interested in that
wonderful man Arturo Toscanini. He seemed to me one of those
self-contained fellows--calm on the surface but burning white-hot
inside. To me it was thrilling to watch him conduct, and he did so at
that first performance without a score, as though the work were a
classic long familiar to him and held in memory.”
Belasco’s labor on the production of “La Fanciulla” was wholly one of
love, as he declined to accept any payment for all his arduous work at
rehearsals. In the programme of the first performance appeared a notice
saying: “The Metropolitan Opera Company desires to make public
acknowledgment of its indebtedness, and to express its cordial thanks,
to Mr. David Belasco for his most valuable and kind assistance in the
stage production of ‘The Girl of the Golden West.’” And among his most
cherished possessions is a sumptuous album containing signed portraits
of all the principal singers who participated in the opera, as well as
of Puccini, Toscanini, and Gatti-Casazza, together with an exquisitely
illuminated copy of the programme on vellum and an appreciative
inscription, also illuminated on vellum. This gracious token was taken
to Belasco’s studio and delivered to him by a committee, representing
the opera company, composed of Messrs. Otto Kahn, Henry Rogers
Winthrop, Robert Goelet, and John Brown.
BELASCO AND THE MESSRS. SHUBERT.
An incident of Belasco’s career in management which can conveniently be
recorded here is his alliance with the Messrs. Shubert. That alliance
was arranged in 1904-’05, when Belasco was in active conflict with the
Theatrical Syndicate, by the late S. S. Shubert, of whom and of their
business association he writes: “I found him an earnest young man, with
the power to make friends and possessed of an irrepressible enthusiasm.”
Shubert, with two brothers, began theatre management (or, rather,
correctly speaking, theatre control) in Syracuse, New York, where they
leased the Bastable Theatre. They subsequently obtained control of the
Herald Square Theatre in New York, and then, directly or indirectly, of
many other theatres in various cities of the country, especially in the
smaller places which are known as “the one-night stands.” “You have
attractions and a reputation,” urged Shubert, addressing Belasco, “but
no theatres out of New York: we have theatres but lack attractions and
reputation. Join us, and all our out-of-town houses shall be at your
disposal.” The arrangement
[Illustration: THE OPERA OF “THE GIRL OF THE GOLDEN WEST”--
A Souvenir, to Belasco]
thus proposed was made and it had mutual advantages, but it was more
valuable to the Shubert Brothers than to Belasco. Possessed of contracts
to “book” the latter’s “attractions” the Shuberts were strengthened in
their relations with theatre managers not dominated by the Trust who
desired to have those attractions presented in their houses,--and thus
they were, in turn, strengthened in dealings with managers of other
“attractions.” The Belasco-Shubert alliance lasted for about four years.
The time came when Mr. Lee Shubert (who had become the head of the
Shubert Company) condescendingly intimated in public that he did not
believe that anything could be accomplished by the methods of opposition
to theatrical despotism which were long employed by Belasco and by the
shrewd, indefatigable, vindictive H. G. Fiske and his intrepid,
brilliant, accomplished wife; nevertheless, if it had not been for their
opposition, the subjugation of the American Theatre to injurious
monopoly would, in all human probability, have been so complete that Mr.
Lee Shubert and his associates would never have found an opening through
which to break.
S. S. Shubert died, May 12, 1905, in consequence of injuries sustained
in a train wreck on the Pennsylvania Railroad, near Lochiel,
Pennsylvania, on the 11th. Belasco considers his death “a hard blow”
and is “sure he would have occupied a great place in the history of the
American Theatre. He had keen business instincts, a lovable nature, and
was the soul of honor.” He would have required to possess a more
extensive equipment to entitle him to the eminence Belasco believes he
would have attained. I had no personal acquaintance with Mr. Shubert: he
never _did_ anything of notable importance as a theatrical manager,
properly so called. His brother, Mr. Lee Shubert, through the shifts and
chances of fortune, at one time almost held the destiny of our Theatre
in his hand,--but he is merely a commercial exploiter of the Stage and
consequently made nothing of his opportunity.
Belasco was to have accompanied S. S. Shubert on the journey which
proved his last and, had he done so, might have perished with him. “I
have had three such ‘close calls,’” he has said to me: “Once, when I was
a lad, I gave up an excursion trip on the Sacramento River to please my
mother,--and the excursion boat was blown up soon after she left the
dock. The second was when, at the last minute, I cancelled a trip to
Cincinnati, with Charles Frohman. He took a secretary with him, the
train was wrecked, and the secretary, sitting beside him where I would
have been, was killed. The third was the trip with ‘Sam’ Shubert. We
were to have gone to Pittsburgh together, on business connected with the
Duquesne Theatre there, which, with the Shuberts, I took over and which
was renamed the Belasco. If I had gone I am sure that I should have been
killed in the wreck.” It is probable that he would have been: the train
on which Shubert travelled to his death “side-swiped” a freight train,
loaded with dynamite: many lives were lost.
THE ADVENT OF FRANCES STARR.--BELASCO’S “THE ROSE OF THE RANCHO.”
Frances Starr was born at Albany, New York, June 6, 1880, and made her
first appearance on the stage as _Lucy Dorrison_, in Robertson’s “Home,”
with a stock company, in that city, under the management of the late
Frederic Bond. During the next six years she gained experience in
various stock companies,--at the Murray Hill Theatre, New York; in San
Francisco, in Boston, and at Proctor’s 125th Street Theatre, New
York,--and, February 12, 1906, she appeared, in association with Charles
Richman, as _Nell Colfax_, in “Gallops,”--a weak echo of Boucicault’s
horse-racing plays of “The Flying Scud” and “The Jilt.” Belasco first
saw her when she was acting at the Murray Hill, and his attention was
again called to her by his brother Frederick, who, in 1905, wrote to him
from San Francisco, praising her in high terms. Writing about Miss
Starr, Belasco has given this account of her employment by
him--certainly the most fortunate event of her life:
“When I first saw her play I watched her performance with the
closest attention. Her entrance was greeted by a spontaneous
outburst of applause. She was just a young girl then, a sweet-faced
girl, delicately formed, with a beautiful forehead and fine,
intelligent eyes. I was most favorably impressed by her
performance, but at the time I had no part for her.... Her
opportunity came during the second season of ‘The Music Master.’
Miss Minnie Dupree was to leave the company before the close of the
season and I needed some one to take her place. I remembered Miss
Starr and, with my friend and stage manager, William Dean, I went
to the Garrick to see her in ‘Gallops.’...” In that play “the hero
staked his all on a horse race, and the future happiness of the
young lovers hung in the balance as the race took place. The
heroine and a coaching party were near the track, and Miss Starr
stood on the steps of the coach, facing the audience. As the race
was being described Miss Starr’s facial expression was so
remarkable that she held the audience for several minutes. The
various expressions of hope, despair, and joy came and went
according to the movements of the horse. The tumult of applause was
a tribute not to the play nor to the scene, but to the perfection
of Miss Starr’s art. And as an exhibition of pantomime I have seen
nothing to surpass it.... I decided that I must have her under my
management, and I gave instructions to Mr. Dean to send for her to
ask her to sign a contract as soon as possible. Just before the
final curtain fell the young actress looked at me, and as our eyes
met I fancied I read in them the question: ‘Have I pleased you?’ On
the way back to my theatre I was haunted by the pathetic appeal so
silently thrown across the footlights, and I determined to do what
I could to save one little girl the sleepless night I felt sure was
in store for her. ‘Dean,’ I said, ‘don’t wait until morning.
Telephone Miss Starr to-night and say I wish to see her to-morrow.’
Mr. Dean advised me to wait. He thought it would be poor judgment
on my part to show any eagerness; that Miss Starr would be sure to
take advantage of it and raise her salary, but I insisted and he
telephoned to her. As I expected, she was in her room, anxious,
nervous, and wondering if my visit to the theatre would mean an
engagement for her. Later, she told me of her relief and happiness
when the telephone call came. It did not save her from a sleepless
night after all, but her wakefulness was the result of joyous
anticipation rather than anxiety. The appointment was made for
10.30 in the morning. When I arrived at 9, Mr. Dean came to me,
smiling broadly. ‘Miss Starr is in my office,’ he said; ‘she has
been waiting since 8 o’clock.’ I found her even more attractive
than I had imagined. Her hair was soft and light, her eyes deep
blue, varying into gray, and the changing expressions of her
earnest face were delightful. She was pale and tearful. ‘It has
always been my wish to work for you,’ she said. I learned that her
manager at the Garrick Theatre intended to ‘star’ her in a play,
but she expressed a willingness to come with me if only in a ‘bit’
five lines long. I offered her the leading part of _Helen_ in ‘The
Music Master,’ and she was delighted. I told her to go to Mr. Dean
and make business arrangements. ‘I don’t care what salary I get,’
she exclaimed. ‘The only agreement I want is that you don’t change
your mind.’ I insisted, however, that a contract be signed, and
when Mr. Dean made it out she wanted to put her name to it at once,
but I advised her to take it home and read it over. She took it
away with her, but afterwards confessed that she stopped in a
telegraph office on the way to her hotel and signed it!...”
The first play in which Belasco presented Miss Starr as a leading
performer, heading an important theatrical company--less than six months
after he had seen her in “Gallops”--was “The Rose of the Rancho.” This
piece is based on an earlier one, by Richard Walton Tully, called
“Juanita,” which had been produced in Los Angeles with the excellent
actor John H. Gilmour in the principal male part. Mr. Tully’s play was
verbose, diffuse, and coarse in texture. Belasco, after once rejecting
it, being in urgent need of a vehicle for Miss Starr, read it again and
agreed to “accept it, provided I might have the privilege of rewriting
it.” This “privilege” Belasco has exercised in many instances--to his
loss and the immense advantage of various inconsequential and ingrateful
amateurs of dramatic authorship. His stipulation was acceded to by Mr.
Tully, and Belasco, working as usual under the stress of haste and the
distraction of many projects, revised, curtailed, amended, and
reconstructed “Juanita,” which, in its final form as “The Rose
[Illustration: FRANCES STARR
Inscription:
“_To him who made me what I am and inspired what I hope to be,--with
ever living love and gratitude._”
Photograph by Strauss Payton.
Belasco’s Collection.
]
of the Rancho,” gained abundant success. It was first acted, under that
name, at the Majestic Theatre, Boston, November 12, 1906, and was
brought out in New York, at the Belasco Theatre, November 27: it held
the stage there until June 29, 1907.
There is, in this play, a glance at a disgraceful episode in American
history,--the technically legal, but outrageously unjust and brutally
tyrannical, seizure of the estates of Spaniards in California, after the
Mexican War; but the purpose was not so much to relumine a remote and
half-forgotten rascality as to display the incidents of a romantic love
story associated with the nefarious proceedings of that distressful and
turbulent time and place. That purpose Belasco accomplished in pictorial
settings of uncommon beauty. The scenery of Southern California is
inexpressibly charming, because it combines tranquil loveliness with
awful grandeur and is everywhere invested with poetic mystery. The
stupendous and austere mountains, the boundless, lonely plains, the
balmy orange groves, the graceful palm trees, the fragrant magnolias,
the abundance of wild flowers, the glorious blue skies and the pure,
sweet air,--these and many other beauties unite to make that region a
paradise. It is in Southern California that the _Rose of the Rancho_
blooms, and Belasco, who knows and loves that country well, made his
stage a garden of luxury and a dream of splendor to convey that
charm--presenting a series of pictures which have never been excelled
and seldom equalled. The investiture of this play, indeed, blending old
Spanish architecture with a semi-tropical wealth of natural beauty, was
literally magnificent and considerably excelled the worth of the play
itself. This is a synopsis[2] of that fabric,--from which it will be
seen that the theme is, to some extent, the same as that treated in
Helen Hunt Jackson’s prolix and tedious novel of “Ramona”:
The scene is laid amid the sleepy, picturesque Spanish missions of
Southern California. The plot deals with the great tragedy that
underlies California history--the taking of the Spanish inhabitants’
homes by land-jumping Americans. _The Rose of the Rancho_ is _Juanita_,
the youngest daughter of the _Castro_ family. Through pride and
indolence the _Castros_ have neglected to make their property secure to
them by filing an entry with the American land agent, and things have
come to a serious pass with them. One of the most notorious land-jumpers
in the state, _Kinkaid_, of Beaver, Neb., has come to San Juan, with his
outfit, to take the whole valley. At the same time another American has
appeared on the scene,--_Mr. Kearney_, of Washington,--a government
agent sent to investigate the land disputes.
Previous to the rising of the curtain upon the beautiful mission garden
the latter has met and fallen in love with the fascinating _Juanita_.
Because of enmity toward all gringoes she refuses to treat him civilly,
but she meets him by accident every day, unknown to her mother, who
arranges (according to the custom) that _Juanita_ shall marry a young
Spanish spark, from Monterey--_Don Luis de la Torre_. The girl’s father
was an American, and there begins a struggle between her loyalty to her
mother, her Spanish relatives and friends, on the one side, and the
young American who comes with the offer of his love and aid, on the
other. _Juanita_, given her first kiss, lets the blood of her father
direct her actions. She gives the data necessary for a registration to
_Kearney_, who has no authority to interfere with _Kinkaid_, but who
sends his friend, _Lieutenant Larkin_, to Monterey to make the entry for
the _Castros_. _Kearney_ remains behind to delay _Kinkaid_ as long as he
can. _Larkin_ agrees to bring back the state militia for _Kearney’s_
protection. Meanwhile, the mother has learned that her daughter has
tossed a geranium to a gringo (signifying, “I love you”), and _Juanita_
is locked in her room.
The Second Act takes place in the patio-court of the old _Castro_ ranch
house. In spite of the danger that threatens, the mother is giving the
engagement party she has planned. _Juanita’s_ friends are present. There
are Spanish dances and the throwing of cascarones, and _Don Luis_
appears to claim his bride. _Juanita_ is defiant, and when they are
about to betroth her she declares herself to be a gringo and the
promised wife of a gringo. For this her mother disowns her, and is about
to turn her out of the house, when _Kinkaid_ and his men attack it and
break in, and _Juanita_ is thunderstruck to find the man she has trusted
among them. The crowd of riffraff insult the women, who are protected by
_Kearney_. He, however, must pretend that he is upon _Kinkaid’s_ side.
_Juanita_ appeals to him, and is rebuffed. _Kinkaid_ agrees to wait
until dawn before taking possession--thereby giving _Kearney_ the time
desired. The latter gets away from the land-jumper and finds _Juanita_
to explain. She lashes him with her tongue for his betrayal of her
people, and when he tries to make her listen she strikes him. Nothing
daunted, he forces her to listen to his explanation. She tells him that
she thinks he is a liar, but--she will wait till morning to see if the
militia comes.
The Third Act takes place upon the roof of the ranch house. Dawn is
coming, and no help has arrived. _Kearney_ makes _Kinkaid_ a prisoner as
a hostage to protect the women. Unfortunately, _Don Luis_, jealous of
the American lover of _Juanita_, in an effort to compel him to fight a
duel, lets _Kinkaid_ go. The latter joins his men and an attack is
imminent. The old Franciscan, _Father Antonio_, assembles “his children”
in prayer for delivery, the sunrise hymn of the Californians. This
delivery comes in the shape of the long-awaited militia from Monterey.
The rancho is saved, but the mother will not see her daughter go to an
American. She forces her daughter to choose, and this she does--in favor
of the gringo.
* * * * *
That is a simple, almost trite, story; but Belasco contrived to tell it
in _action_ more than in words, and his telling of it proceeds from one
sensation to another with cumulative effect. Divested of all outward
flourishes, it is seen to be the portrayal of a conflict between virtue,
animated by love, and villany, impelled by cupidity and brutal license.
The vulgarian would seize the estate of the old Spanish family. The
hero, who loves its young mistress, would save it for her; and in order
to accomplish that object he is compelled to pretend fraternity with
her oppressor,--for which reason she temporarily mistrusts him; but his
purpose is accomplished, his fidelity is proved, and his love is
rewarded. In all this, happily, there is no examination of the remote
causes of the universal passion; no philosophic essay on masculine
strength as opposed to feminine weakness; no treatise on elective
affinities. The play, in short, is an old-fashioned melodrama in a
new-fashioned dress; one of those plays that the spectator observes with
an interested desire to ascertain how it will turn out. No new type of
character is presented, nor is a special attempt made to variegate the
old types. _Kearney_, of Washington, is the handsome, gallant,
expeditious young cavalier who has loved and rescued the endangered
maiden in a hundred plays of the past. _Kinkaid_, of Beaver, is the same
old blackguard and bully who seems victorious for a moment, but is
always finally discomfited, in the chronic story of the Far West. _Don
Luis_ is the debonair but disappointed suitor, from whom the _Bride of
Netherby_ always rides away. _Father Antonio_ is the good and gentle
priest who cheers the drooping spirit and bestows ecclesiastical
benediction. The only persons who savor of exceptional quality are
_Señora Kenton_ and her daughter _Juanita_, _the Rose_,--the one a stern
and formidable woman, vital with Spanish hatred of the invading
American; the other, a passionate, capricious, wilful girl, who can be
sweet and tender, but who is customarily piquant, independent, and
resolute in her own course: characters strongly reminiscent of the
matron and the heroine in “Ramona.” But, all the same, the old tale of
strength protecting weakness, stratagem defeating duplicity, and love
triumphant over hate, pleased, as it always has pleased, and as it
always will continue to please--“till all the seas run dry.” Although,
intrinsically, not exceptional as a work of dramatic art, “The Rose of
the Rancho” has positive and abundant felicity of theatrical merit,
imparted by the skilful hand of Belasco, and the production of it was
worthy of his brightest fame. This was the original cast of it:
_Kearney_, of Washington Charles Richman.
_Don Luis de la Torre_ A. Hamilton Revelle.
_Padre Antonio_ Frank Losee.
_Lieutenant Larkin_ William Elliott.
_Kinkaid_ John W. Cope.
_Rigsby_ Wayne Arey.
_Sunol_ J. Harry Benrimo.
_Tomaso_ Frank Westerton.
_Ortega_ Norbert Cills.
_Goya_ Candido Yllera.
_Pico_ Fermin Ruiz.
_Fra Mateo_ Frank de Felice.
_A Gardener_ Richard S. Conover.
_Salvador_ Gilmore Scott.
_Pascual_ Salvatore Zito.
_Benito_ Vincent de Pascale.
_Estudilla_ Julio Grau.
_Yorba_ Francesco Recchio.
_Cadet_ Regino Lopez.
_El Tecolero_ Virgilio Arriaza.
_Bruno_ C. A. Burnett.
_Manuel_ Leonardo Piza Lopez.
_Señora Dona Petrona Castro_ Marta Melean.
_Señora Kenton_ Grace Gayler Clark.
_Juanita_, called _La Rosa del Rancho_ Frances Starr.
_Trinidad_ Jane Cowl.
_Beatriz_ Catherine Tower.
_Carlota_ Atalanta Nicolaides.
_Guadalupe_ Maria Davis.
_Señora Alcantara_ Regina Weil.
_Agrada_ Louise Coleman.
_Kinkaid’s Ranchmen_, _Caballeros_, _Vaqueros_, _Musicos_,
_Servants_, _Etc._
_Señoritas_, _Dueñas_, _the Child of the Dance_, _Etc._
Miss Starr, in her performance of _Juanita_, manifested impetuosity of
temperament combined with charm of personality, and by her arch behavior
as a coquette, together with the vigor and sparkle of her demeanor as a
wounded, doubting, resentful, and angry young woman, gained and merited
general admiration.--A significant thought as to expedition
[Illustration:
Photograph by Byron. Belasco’s Collection.
FRANCES STARR AS _JAUNITA_, IN “THE ROSE OF THE RANCHO”] and indolence
in the fibre of contrasted races is conveyed in two casual remarks in
this play: “Civilization,” says the “land-jumper,” _Kinkaid_, with
blatant vulgarity of manner, when announcing his purpose of legalized
robbery, “must progress”; and when it is found that certain muskets
which have been collected for use in defending the _Castro_ ranch are
useless because of lack of powder, the Spanish cavalier is heard to
murmur: “I meant to have got that powder _to-morrow_.” Charles Richman,
as the intrepid _Kearney_, and John W. Cope, as the sinister _Kinkaid_,
gave performances of sterling merit, because true to life and
symmetrical and fluent in expression,--the one presenting, in a notably
earnest spirit, a sonsy, healthful, interesting, thoroughly good fellow:
the other assuming, in a painfully natural way, the obnoxious
characteristics,--including a repulsive personal appearance,--commonly,
and correctly, ascribed to the Western breed of ruffian.
Belasco has, in drama, made use of the element of natural
accessories,--meaning peculiarities of climate, cloud, sunshine, rain,
storm, calm, the sound of the sea, the ripple of leaves in the wind, the
swirl of dust, the gentle falling of flower petals, the incessant
variations of light according to place and time, whether morning or
evening, noonday or midnight, and so following,--with an unerring skill
akin to that of Wilkie Collins in the writing of fiction. In “The Rose
of the Rancho” he took almost unparalleled pains to render his effects
perfect. Writing of this work, he has recorded:
“To get the strong sunlight of my beloved California and the
wonderful shades and tones of sunset, night, and dawn as they come
out there I had my electrician, Louis Hartman, carry our
experiments to the point of making our own colors for our lamps, as
we could find none on the market that would give me the desired
result. At the present time we mix all our own colors for the
lights used in my productions, but in those days this had not been
done. I took _twenty-five electricians_ with me to Boston, for the
opening of ‘The Rose’: usually, two or three are enough with any
company....”
A NEW PROJECT:--THE SECOND BELASCO THEATRE.
Although Belasco held the Belasco Theatre under a lease with an option
of renewal, he was at all times during the early years of his theatre
management conscious of a certain weakness in his position: an
unforeseen disaster--a fire, for instance,--might leave him with many
theatrical enterprises and no metropolitan theatre to present them in.
“Besides,” he writes to me: “not only was I always confronted by the
fact that the lease of my Forty-second Street house might not be
renewed, but also it was natural that I should desire to have a theatre
_all my own_, in the making of which I could carry out, fully, my ideas
of stage construction, lighting, and seating.” The result of this desire
and of his wary vigilance to maintain managerial freedom is the second
Belasco Theatre (which originally was named David Belasco’s Stuyvesant
Theatre), which was built by Meyer R. Bimberg (18--- 1908), on designs
made by Belasco and under his personal superintendence. The cornerstone
of that theatre was laid on December 5, 1906. David Warfield came from
Philadelphia, where he was acting, to participate; Miss Bates came from
Boston; Miss Starr was at the time filling her first engagement in New
York in “The Rose of the Rancho.” Belasco, those players, his business
associates, and a numerous company of friends gathered round the site of
the new theatre. Miss Starr deposited in a niche beneath the bed of the
cornerstone a copper casket containing various records and programmes of
Belasco’s productions, photographs of himself and of the chief players
then appearing under his direction, and a miscellaneous assortment of
souvenirs, cards, and “good luck pieces” contributed by various friends.
Miss Bates then spread the mortar upon which the stone was to be laid
and uttered this touching sentiment as she did so: “Here’s hoping that
Mr. Belasco will stick to all of us, and we and all his friends will
stick to Mr. Belasco, as this mortar will eternally stick to this
stone.”
The cornerstone was then swung into place, settled, and declared to be
“well and truly laid,” whereupon Belasco’s daughters, Reina and Augusta,
each broke a bottle of champagne against it, saying, in unison, “David
Belasco’s Stuyvesant Theatre.” The dramatist Bronson Howard (who had
risen from a sick-bed to attend this ceremony) then spoke, saying:
“My dear Public and Friends: This is one of the greatest pleasures
of my whole life--to be here to-day to dedicate the theatre that
David Belasco is building. He has always given of his best in the
past and you know what he is doing now. This theatre and the plays
that it will house will live in the Future even as Wallack’s,
Daly’s, and Palmer’s, of the Past, live now in the Present. Here,
where we stand to-day, will stand the future Temple of Dramatic Art
in America. David Belasco has played a great part in the
advancement of the drama in this country and he will play a greater
one. He has never disappointed us and he never will. His heart and
soul will be in every brick of this theatre and in every production
he makes on its stage.
“Belasco and I have been friends and co-workers for many years. We
first met when the gods were favoring me most,--when, long, long
ago, he came, a young man out of the West, with black hair and
eager face, to begin his career here. I was fortunate enough to put
into his hands, in his first position as stage manager, at the
Madison Square Theatre, the manuscript of my play ‘Young Mrs.
Winthrop.’ I want to tell you an anecdote connected with that. I
expected, when I gave it to him, that I should be obliged to do a
lot of work on it; but after he had had it a few days he came to me
and told me of many beautiful things in my play that I did not know
were there! I decided, then, to keep away and did not see the play
until the dress rehearsal. I found I had done well to leave it all
to him. [Turning toward Mr. Belasco and stretching out his hand to
him.] Come here, David! I am proud to clasp your hand, to utter a
word of thanks for all you have done for us, for the workers in the
Theatre; to congratulate you and say ‘God bless you and give you
success!’”
Writing of this occasion and of his new theatre, Belasco says:
“With all my associates gathered round me I felt like the _Vicar of
Wakefield_ when he got out of gaol and once more assembled his
family round his hearth!
“How quickly a theatre grows old-fashioned! Every summer I make
improvements in this house and have already spent enough money to
build another theatre. At the present time of writing I have just
installed a new lighting system, the result of years of
experimenting by Louis Hartman, my valued old friend and
electrician, who is to be found in the theatre from morning until
night, and whose only pleasure is in his work. I think we have
revolutionized stage lights, and I have no doubt that our
innovations will find their way to foreign countries.... As my
whole life is passed in my theatre, I have a studio there of
several rooms devoted to my work and collections. In the latter I
take great pride....
“I have picked up much interesting furniture for my workroom, but,
despite the joy I take in these things, I write with greatest
comfort on a little sewing-table covered with green baize,--a relic
of my attic days.... I really know of no other manager whose
delight in his playhouse is greater than mine.... Here I spend my
life and here I shall, I hope, end my days.”
The second Belasco Theatre (originally called David Belasco’s Stuyvesant
Theatre, by which name it was known until the fall of 1910) stands on
the north side of West Forty-fourth Street, between Broadway and Sixth
Avenue, on lots Nos. 111 to 121, inclusive. The site has a front of 105
feet and a depth of 100 feet. The building is of red brick and white
stone, simple and graceful, in the style of architecture denominated as
Colonial. It was, originally, three stories high, with a rectangular,
tower-like eminence at the southwest corner. The entrance from the
street is into a small lobby, at the right of which are large swinging
doors opening into a clear space which extends, behind the orchestra
seats, parallel with Forty-fourth Street, from side to side of the
auditorium. In this playhouse,
[Illustration:
Photograph by Byron. Author’s Collection.
BELASCO IN HIS WORKSHOP
INSCRIPTION ON BACK:
“Genius _doesn’t burn_ this morning, dear friend!--D. B.”
]
as in the first Belasco Theatre, there is a handsome screen of carved
wood and crystal glass at the rear of the orchestra, which protects the
audience from drafts of air. The orchestra and balcony chairs are of
heavy wood, upholstered in rich, dark brown leather, the back of each
chair being embossed with the emblematic bee. The decoration of the
interior is opulent and dark in tone,--deep browns, blues, and greens
with dull amber and orange being the prevailing colors. There is a large
painting above the proscenium opening and on either side are several
mural paintings, of various sizes, with here and there a rich tapestry
hanging. The groups and figures in these paintings are
symbolical,--Music, Grief, Tranquillity, Allurement, Blind Love, Poetry,
and the like being depicted. The ceiling is raftered into twenty-two
panels, which are set with rich-colored stained glass and illumined from
above. Each panel contains two shields, with heraldic mantling,--among
the coats-of-arms displayed being those of Shakespeare, Goethe,
Schiller, Racine, Molière, Goldsmith, Sheridan, and Tennyson. The
seating capacity of the theatre is now (1917) about 1,000 persons,--430
on the orchestra floor, 320 in the balcony, and 240 in the gallery.
There are no supporting pillars in the auditorium, the balcony and
gallery being constructed on cantilevers, so that an unobstructed view
of the stage is afforded from every part of it.
The stage was carefully designed with the purpose of facilitating in
every possible way the setting and shifting of scenery. It is eighty
feet wide and twenty-seven feet from the curtain-line to the back-wall.
The proscenium opening is thirty-two feet wide and thirty feet high. The
“gridiron” is seventy-six feet above the stage; the fly galleries, of
which there are two, one on each side of the stage and thirty feet above
it, have forty-five feet of clear space between them. In recent years an
adjustable apron, five feet wide, has been constructed in front of the
curtain-line, covering the musicians’ pit. The stage can be opened at
any desired spot, and the centre of it is an elevator-trap, ten feet
from front to back and twenty feet long. Upon this trap the
paraphernalia of an entire scene can be lowered to, or raised from, the
level of a cellar floor, thirty feet below the stage.
The original cost of this theatre, including the land upon which it
stands, was more than $750,000, and various alterations and improvements
made in it down to the present time (1917) have increased the total
investment to nearly $1,000,000. In the summer of 1909 a one-story and
mezzanine addition was built upon the roof of the Stuyvesant, in which
Belasco has made his studio,--a strange, romantic place in which he has
assembled priceless objects of art and antiquarianism. That studio (an
adequate description of which would necessitate weeks of examination and
would, alone, fill a large volume, and which, here, can be given only
passing notice) is entered by a narrow, low, heavy-latticed door from
the business offices of the Belasco Company. The first room is a small,
low-roofed one, in itself somewhat suggestive of an old cathedral crypt.
Along the walls are ranged shelved cases containing a wondrous
collection of specimens of precious glass, the most recently made piece
of which is more than eighty years old. A sort of alcove opens from this
room, at the right side, which is stored with scores of relics
associated with that arch-villain the great Napoleon,--a collection
which includes a lock of his hair, cut from his head after death, and in
which Belasco takes special pride and joy. Beyond the entrance room is a
larger one; beyond that are low, dim passages; a library with stairs to
a gallery; a dining-room; an odd little bedroom, exquisitely furnished
in Japanese style,--with a miniature Japanese garden built outside its
window,--and luxurious facilities for bathing. These passages, rooms,
and stairs,--ceilinged with multi-colored banners, carpeted with soft,
rich rugs, and almost everywhere lined with shelf on shelf of
books,--are somewhat maze-like to a stranger, and in them is gathered a
vast, confusing medley of collectors’ treasures: here, a sinister,
black-steel armor; there, a stand of French halberds; beneath that old
table, an unmatchable set of rapiers; upon this one, nearly twoscore
different styles of dagger; yonder, a huge carved wooden chest,
blackened with age and stuffed with antique velours; against it, a great
two-handed sword,--“such a blade as old Charles Martel might have
wielded, when he drove the Saracen from France”; across that opening, an
antique wooden window-lattice, with heavy shutters, taken from an
English house built more than 700 years ago; beside it, a chair once
used by England’s King Henry the Eighth; against this wall, a stone
mantel brought from Italy, with a hearth made of tiles stolen by slaves
from the Alhambra. In the walls are many odd nooks and hidden cupboards,
which open by the release of secret springs,--in which, when illumined
by small, concealed lamps, are revealed collections of jewelled
rosaries; or of crucifixes wrought in ivory, ebony, and iron; or of
specimens of the potter’s art; or of trinkets once worn or owned by
members of the gentle Borgia Family. The stranger, wandering through
this reclusive domain,--into which few strangers ever are permitted to
penetrate,--opening low Gothic doors, will blunder into angular hutches
or long, low tunnels filled with shelves and cases of rare pamphlets and
old books; will pause with awe before a superb window of purple stained
glass; or gaze with wonder on a massive globe suspended in a well over
which a translucent canopy is so arranged that it takes and intensifies
all the changing colors of the covering heavens; or will come with
startled delight upon a grot in which a small fountain of crystal water
flings its spray over a little pool half-filled with violets, sweetpeas,
and full-blown roses.
Belasco, unlike many other collectors, has an intimate personal
knowledge of every article in his collection; can recall at once where,
when, and how each was acquired; and, notwithstanding the number and
seeming confusion of the different pieces, knows exactly where each one
is placed and instantly perceives and vituperatively denounces any
disarrangement of them such as occasionally is caused by members of that
pestiferous sisterhood which plies the duster and the brush without
sense of the sacredness of an antiquarian’s sweet disorder,--a
sisterhood which has stirred up consternation and wrath since long
before _Mr. Oldbuck’s_ time. His writing is done there among his
treasured collections, now in one corner, now in another, upon a small,
battered, baize-covered cutting-table, such as ladies use for sewing,
which he carries about from place to place as the fancy suits him. And
there, also, his principal recreation is found when, wearied by labor or
oppressed by care, he turns to contemplation and enjoyment of the
heaped-up beauty which he has gathered about him.
IN THE MATTER OF STAGE LIGHTING.
A much needed addition to the technical literature of the Theatre is a
comprehensive, authoritative, and just account of the origin and
development of modern stage mechanism and of the art of stage lighting.
The pioneer achievements of Edwin Booth, at Booth’s Theatre (opened,
February, 1869), and of James Steele Mackaye and Augustin Daly are, as a
rule, blandly ignored in writing on those subjects, and the movement for
“Stage Reform” which began in Austria in 1879-’80 is taken as the
starting-point. If ever such an account is written, laborious
experiments and fine achievements by David Belasco, especially in the
latter field, will, of necessity, occupy a conspicuous place in it. His
active practical interest in the problems of stage lighting began as
early as 1876 and it has not abated. The first attempt in America to
use electric light for stage illumination,--at least, the first attempt
of which I have found a record,--was made at the California Theatre, San
Francisco, February 21 to 28, 1879. Belasco was there at that time and
carefully observed the experiment, which was not notably successful.[3]
From 1879 to 1902 he closely studied all methods of lighting and
experimented much: since 1902, when he opened his first theatre and
obtained satisfactory facilities for the work, his experimentation in
that field has been incessant. The lighting system at the Stuyvesant
Theatre was designed by Belasco in collaboration with his chief
electrician, Mr. Louis Hartman, and was installed under their
supervision. When that theatre was opened, the lamps of the footlights
on the stage, and also those in each of the overhead “border light
strips,” were arranged in seven sections, each section connected upon
separate resistance, in order that any desired part of the stage or any
figure or group of figures might be illumined or shadowed as desired.
There were five sets of the border lights, with 270 lamps in each; there
were eighty-eight connection pockets in the fly galleries and upon the
stage through which large or small “bunch lights” could be connected as
required; the switchboard (one of the largest, if not the largest, then
in use in an American theatre) was equipped with seventy-five dimmers,
in order that the lights should be under perfect control. Since the
opening, in 1907, the lighting system has repeatedly been altered and
improved. The most radical change is one made about two years ago
[1917], whereby footlights are entirely dispensed with. The objection to
footlights is, of course, an upward thrown shadow: this, however, can be
satisfactorily dealt with, and, in my judgment, it is seldom if ever
advantageous wholly to discard them. Belasco, however, thinks otherwise:
his productions are the only ones made without footlights, which I have
seen, in which the absence of those lights is adequately compensated. In
his present theatre there is a contrivance, placed in the front of the
first balcony, which, while the curtain is down, appears to be an
ornamental glass panel about six feet long. When the curtain is raised,
however, shutters in the front of that panel are opened by an electrical
device operated at the switchboard on the stage, and a singular bright
light, which is transmitted without casting perceptible rays, is
diffused upon the stage, bringing the
[Illustration:
Photograph by White. Belasco’s Collection.
SWITCHBOARD OF THE SECOND BELASCO THEATRE, NEW YORK]
actors into clear vision.--It is not practicable to pursue this subject
further in this place; but readers will, perhaps, realize the importance
Belasco attaches to the art of lighting as an adjunct to acting and the
care he lavishes upon it when they are informed that the experimental
workshop in his theatre is operated all the year round and that in many
instances the expense of his _light rehearsals alone_ has exceeded the
total of all other costs of production. Perhaps the most perfect example
of stage lighting ever exhibited was provided in Belasco’s presentment
of “The Return of Peter Grimm,”--and that was the result of nine and a
half months of persistent experimentation. Dilating on this subject,
Belasco has said with justified wrath:
“I think that we may fairly and without vanity claim to have
revolutionized stage lighting. I confess that I have at times felt
some annoyance when I have been informed by young writers in the
press,--who were not born until long after I had made great
improvement in lighting,--that in dispensing with footlights I have
‘imitated’ Mr. Granville Barker, Mr. Max Reinhardt, and various
other so-called ‘innovators.’ Such statements are nonsensical. My
first regular production without ‘foots’ was made in 1879,[4] when
I staged Morse’s ‘Passion Play’ in San Francisco. And I did without
them in several other productions, at the Madison| Square Theatre,
in ‘The Darling of the Gods,’ and in ‘Adrea.’ When I produced
‘Marie-Odile’ there was a lot of newspaper talk on this subject,
but the talkers were such poor observers that they didn’t know I
had been using the _same system of lighting_ I used in
‘Marie-Odile’ for more than three months before, in ‘The Phantam
Rival’! A little of Mr. Barker’s work as a producer has been seen
in this country and he has had success in England. He seems to be a
very talented man and I always admire ability and so I admire him
and am glad to see him succeed. But without unkindness I must say
that I have no need to ‘borrow’ from Mr. Barker; and as he must
know that I never have done so I wonder a little that he has not
rebuked these writers who would push him up by pulling me down.
Many of the appliances we use in my theatre are invented and made
in my own shop; many others are made outside, to specifications we
provide. My new system is, I believe, a great step toward the
perfection of stage illumination. By means of it footlights, in my
opinion, are made unnecessary for any play, and they are no longer
a part of the illumination of my stage. All the light comes from
above, as in nature; but in order to accomplish this I built an
entirely new proscenium arch. A great iron hood, following the
lines of the stage, hangs behind the proscenium. The hood contains
lights of varying power, and by means of reflectors, invented and
manufactured in my own shop, the illumination is diffused without
casting shadows. The glare of the footlights is a thing of the past
so far as I am concerned. My stage was also reconstructed so as to
extend out into the auditorium over the orchestra pit. These
changes bring the audience into more intimate touch with the scene
on the stage.”
OPENING OF BELASCO’S STUYVESANT THEATRE:--“A GRAND ARMY MAN.”
Belasco opened his Stuyvesant Theatre, October 16, 1907, with a play
entitled “A Grand Army Man,” written by himself in collaboration with
Miss Pauline Phelps and Miss Marion Short,--that is, rewritten and made
practical by Belasco, working on the basis of an amateur essay in
dramatic authorship provided by those ladies. That play was first acted
on any stage at the Hyperion Theatre, New Haven, Connecticut, September
23, the same year. It presents neither surprising ingenuity of
construction nor uncommon felicity of style, but it tells a plain story
in a plain way. The chord that is struck in it is that of romantic,
almost paternal, altogether manly and beautiful affection. As a work of
dramatic art it appertains to the class of comedies represented by such
plays as “Grandfather Whitehead,” “The Porter’s Knot,” and “The Chimney
Corner,”--plays in which the theme involves unselfish love and the
sentiments and emotions that cling to the idea of Home. In that respect
it reverts to a style of drama once, fortunately, dominant--at a time
when the American Stage was illumined and adorned by such actors as
Henry Placide, John Gilbert, John Nickinson, Charles W. Couldock,
William Warren, and Mark Smith. The authors of it provided Warfield
with a vehicle of dramatic expression that exactly conformed to the bent
of his mind. The plot is simple, but by reason of being natural and
being fraught with true, as opposed to false, emotion, its simplicity
nowhere declines into insipid commonplace. The chief character, _Wes’
Bigelow_, is a veteran of the Grand Army of the Republic. He has never
married. In youth he has loved a girl, but has not won her, and she has
become the wife of one of his comrades. Years have passed, and the
American Civil War has occurred. That comrade has been slain in battle.
The widow has died: but she has left a child, that comrade’s boy, and
_Bigelow_ has adopted and reared him. The substance of the play is his
experience with the fortunes of that ward.
It happens sometimes that a man whom a girl has rejected, and who
remains unmarried because of his absorbing love for her, will fix his
affection on her child,--she having married a more favored suitor and
produced a family,--and will love that child as if it were his own. That
happens to _Bigelow_. The son of his loved and lost idol is the light of
his eyes and the joy of his heart. There is no labor that he will not do
and no sacrifice that he will not make for the lad, of whom he ardently
prophesies success and honor. The boy, _Robert_, has been intrusted
with money, the property of the Grand Army veterans, and, instead of
placing it in the bank, as directed to do, he has used it in
speculation, and lost it. When the knowledge of that fault comes to the
veteran he is, at first, stunned by it; then enraged; and then broken by
the conflict between the sense of shame and the struggle of affection.
He tries to thrash the boy with a horse-whip, but in that manifestation
of wrath he fails: his cherished pet cannot have done wrong; has only
erred through accident; can surely be redeemed; must, of course, make
amends,--and all will be well. The case comes to trial, before a judge
who, privately, is hostile to _Bigelow_, and measures are taken to
insure conviction. The veteran offers to replace the money that has been
taken by his ward,--supposing that the complaint will then be dismissed.
That money he has obtained by sale of his personal effects, and also by
means of a mortgage imposed on his farm. The old soldier makes an
impassioned, pathetic appeal to the court, but the hostile magistrate
cannot be appeased. _Robert_ is convicted and is sent to prison for one
year. A little time passes, and _Robert’s_ sweetheart, the daughter of
that malicious judge, leaves her father’s abode and seeks refuge with
_Bigelow_ and the kind old woman who keeps house for him. _Robert_ is
pardoned, at the intercession of the veteran’s military comrades, and he
comes back, to his guardian and his love, on New Year’s Day.
Nothing could be more simple than that unpretentious idyl of Home. It is
in situations of simplicity, however, that an actor is subjected to the
most severe tests of his inherent power, his fibre of character, his
knowledge of the human heart, his store of experience, his resources of
feeling, and his artistic faculty of expression. Warfield endured that
test, allowing the torrent of feeling to precipitate itself without
apparent restraint, and, at the same time, controlling and guiding it.
Such artistic growth he had evinced in his impersonation of the _Music
Master_, and he evinced it even more effectively in his assumption of
the _Grand Army Man_,--going to Nature for his impulse and obeying a
right instinct of Art in his direction of it. In the portrayal of the
noble, sweet-tempered, yet fiery old soldier he aimed especially at
self-effacement, at abnegation of every motive or trait of selfishness.
On finding that his boy loves the daughter of his enemy, and is by her
beloved, the veteran is, almost at once, disposed to placate that enemy
and favor those young lovers. There is, to be sure, a little reluctance,
a little struggle in his mind; but that is soon over. The actor denoted
that struggle and that surrender in a lovely spirit. In the tempestuous
scene of _Bigelow’s_ horrified consternation, the agonized conflict
between anger and love, when the misconduct of the boy is exposed and
confessed, and the old man, after trying to beat him as a felon, clasps
him to his heart as only the victim of an unfortunate, venial error, the
anguish and the passionate affection of a strong, even splendid, nature
were expressed with cogent force. The appeal spoken in the
courtroom,--an outburst of honest, simple, rugged eloquence, all the
more fervid and poignant because unskilled and fettered,--had the
authentic note of heartfelt emotion. In circumstances those situations,
which are the pivotal points of the play, recall certain supreme effects
in “Olivia” and “The Heart of Mid-Lothian,” but Warfield’s histrionic
treatment of those situations was fresh and his achievement in them
displayed him as an actor to whom the realm of pathos is widely open and
who can move with a sure step in the labyrinth of the domestic
emotions,--one of the most perplexing fields with which dramatic art is
concerned. All observers know how easy it is, in treatment of themes of
the fireside, the family, the home, to lapse into tameness. An actor
must possess an ardent and beautiful spirit, and must be greatly in
earnest, who can sustain such themes and invest them with the glow of
passionate vitality. Some of the best of the managers and actors of an
earlier, and as I believe in many ways a more fortunate, generation
might well have been proud of placing before the public such a play and
such an impersonation as Belasco and Warfield provided in “A Grand Army
Man,”--a play and an impersonation instinct with fidelity to common life
and yet far removed from commonplace. Warfield, as a player, possesses
in a marked degree the charm ascribed to John Bannistere (one of the
greatest serio-comic actors in theatrical annals), that he wins you
immediately by seeming to care nothing about you. His identification
with the character of _Bigelow_ was absolute and he never, for even a
moment, lapsed out of it. It had been long since such complete
absorption, such living inside of a fancied identity, had been seen on
the stage. The blending of humor and pathos was exceedingly fine, and it
touched the heart even while it brought a smile to the lips.--“A Grand
Army Man,” together with “The Music Master,” was acted at the Stuyvesant
Theatre until May 2, 1908, when Warfield’s season closed. On the opening
night Belasco, called upon the stage by a brilliant and enthusiastic
audience, made a brief speech, saying:
[Illustration: DAVID WARFIELD AS _WES’ BIGELOW_, IN “A GRAND ARMY MAN”
Photograph by Byron. Belasco’s Collection.
]
“I am very grateful, ladies and gentlemen, that you have given me
this opportunity to speak a few words of welcome to you--of welcome
warm as heart can make it, to each and every one of you, the
friends who have been kind enough to honor me by coming to this
little house-warming to-night in our new, and, I hope, our
permanent, home. It is a privilege to come before you; to see you
here; to see and recognize, as I do, so many of the faces of those
who have given me their support ever since I came here from that
dear, far-off city of the West where I was born. It gives me such
great happiness, ladies and gentlemen, to see you here; to know, as
I do know by your generous applause, that you like the play we have
produced for you and that you still love, as I am sure you do, that
splendid actor and loyal and dear friend of yours and mine, Mr.
David Warfield, who is playing here so beautifully to-night. Ladies
and gentlemen, I hardly am able to express myself to you. In one of
the great plays in which I myself used to act, many, many years
ago--and which, before I die, I hope to have the privilege of
placing before you, here, in New York--there is a speech that has
kept coming back into my mind all this evening, as I have listened
to your applause and tried to think what I could say to you:
“‘You have bereft me of all words,
Only my blood speaks to you in my veins.’
“But I think that you must know what I wish to express, that you
must understand without any words what it means to me to have you
here to-night, and to know that all the lies and all the perjuries
that have been printed and spoken against us cannot shake your
approval and support. We need it! Remember, we are only a handful,
fighting against a mighty Trust: but, ladies and gentlemen, this
little theatre flies the flag of independence, and as long as we
have your approval and support and sympathy nobody can dictate to
us and nobody can ‘put us out of business.’ And I am sure that we
shall have you with us just as long as we deserve it, and we shall
strive to deserve it and to serve you and the beautiful Art we all
love just as long as we live. I thank you, again and again, for all
of us,--for Miss Phelps and Miss Short, and for Mr. Warfield and
for my company and all my associates as well as for myself,--and
again and again I bid you heartily welcome to this little new
theatre.”
This is the original cast of “A Grand Army Man”:
_Wes’ Bigelow_ } { David Warfield.
_Judge Andrews_ } { Howard Hall.
_Captain Bestor_ } { Reuben Fax.
_Jim Bishop_ } { George Woodward.
_Cory Kilbert_ } Of the { James Lackaye.
_Let’ Pettingill_ } G. A. R. { Stephen Maley.
_Comrade Potter_ } { Tony Bevan.
_Comrade Tucker_ } { Thomas Gilbert.
_Comrade Tate_ } { Henry F. Stone.
_Robert_, _Wes’ Bigelow’s_ adopted son William Elliot.
_Rogers Wellman_ Taylor Holmes.
_Hickman_ John V. Daly.
_The Drummer-Boy of the Rappahannock_ John Morris.[5]
_Hallie_ Antoinette Perry.
_Letitia_ Marie Bates.
_Mrs. Bestor_ Amy Stone.
_Alida Bestor_ Veda McEvers.
_Mrs. Pettingill_ Jane Cowl.
_Mrs. Kilbert_ Louise Coleman.
A DEFEATED PLAN: “THE PASSING OF THE THIRD FLOOR BACK.”
Belasco had planned to open his new theatre with a play by the eccentric
Jerome Klapka Jerome, entitled “The Passing of the Third Floor Back.” In
his “Story” he gives the following account of his plan and purposes and
of the way,--surely most unjust,--in which they were defeated. The
actual reason for Mr. Jerome’s “misunderstanding” undoubtedly was that
he preferred to have Forbes-Robertson, instead of Warfield, act the
principal part in his “idle fancy,” as he designated his monotonous but
amazingly popular fabric of insipid colloquy:
“I was about to make a new version of ‘The Lone Pine,’ which I
wrote for Denman Thompson many years ago, when Mr. Jerome K. Jerome
came to see me. He and I had travelled from London on the same
ship, and I found him a most interesting companion. He was the
author of the charming little Christmas story, ‘The Passing of the
Third Floor Back,’ and suggested turning it into a play for
Warfield. I was delighted. The contract was signed and a payment
made in advance. ‘I shall sail for home at once,’ said Mr. Jerome,
‘to go into the country, for I shall need the trees and flowers and
birds about me as I work. I am going to write it with David
Warfield in mind. He shall be the _Stranger_ and I shall dip my pen
into my heart as well as into the ink.’ Mr. Jerome suggested that
the action of the entire play take place in one scene. ‘But I wish
the actors could face the audience as though a wall of the room
were between them and the auditorium,’ he said. ‘You want the
fireplace in front of the footlights,’ I suggested. A sketch of the
scene was made then and there.
“Our contract stated that the play was to be completed in time for
the opening of the present Belasco Theatre, which was being built.
‘I’ll have your play finished,’ said Mr. Jerome; ‘I’ll bring it
over myself.’ With my mind at rest, I turned to other matters. It
was not long before Mr. Jerome wrote for an extension of time. I
readily agreed to this and shortly after Mr. Jerome wrote again to
ask for another postponement. The play depended largely upon the
mood in which it was written and moods are not to be summoned at
will; so once more I agreed to a delay. Mr. Jerome sent me a model
of the scene and costume sketches by Percy Anderson. They bore Mr.
Jerome’s ‘O. K.,’ and I cheerfully paid a fee of $500 for them. I
still have the sketches in my possession. The time for the opening
of the new theatre was drawing near and I engaged the company. Mr.
Warfield was eager to have the script, that he might begin to study
the part. Then came bad news from England. Mr. Jerome could not
finish the play in time. I saw that I could not depend upon it for
the opening of my new theatre and must find something else. I once
heard Mr. Warfield recite James Whitcomb Riley’s ‘The Old Man and
Jim,’ and I knew that a character like the _Old Man’s_ would be
delightful in his hands. I had in my possession a manuscript,
written by Pauline Phelps and Marion Short. It contained the very
idea for the character I wanted, so I made arrangements with the
ladies and rewrote parts of the play. By the time my work was done
and I had engaged a company I received a cable from Mr. Jerome:
‘The manuscript is finished. Am bringing it to you.’ I had been
obliged to disband the company selected for ‘The Passing of the
Third Floor Back,’ and preparations for ‘A Grand Army Man’ were
completed. I doubted if the other play could possibly be made ready
for production in so short a period. When Mr. Jerome arrived, he
read his piece to Mr. Warfield, Mr. Roeder and me, and we found the
idea more and more to our liking. I felt, however, that the play
should be held over until the following season. Before I could
reach a decision Mr. Jerome left unexpectedly for London. It was my
moral, to say nothing of legal, right to postpone the production,
as it was no fault of mine that the script had not been delivered
sooner. I told Miss Marbury, Mr. Jerome’s representative in this
country, to cable to him to that effect. He showed some surprise in
his reply. But in a long communication I explained my dilemma. In
response to this he sent a very satisfactory answer, and I was
about to write another letter to him, enclosing an additional
advance on the contract--so anxious was I to have the piece--when
Miss Marbury abruptly inquired what steps I intended to take in the
matter. She insisted upon another large payment, which displeased
me, since I had so willingly complied with every request Mr. Jerome
had made, and I hastily scribbled an impatient note. To my
astonishment, I received a telegram from her saying: ‘The play is
sold to Forbes-Robertson.’ Three years after, when Mr. Jerome asked
me to read a new piece, we spoke of ‘The Passing of the Third Floor
Back.’ I explained the matter, and he said it was all the result
of a mistake. I was of course very sorry the mistake had occurred.
This mistake was most fortunate for Sir Johnson Forbes-Robertson,
who might have missed the greatest success of his career. The piece
could not add to his fame, but it certainly added to his fortune.”
“THE WARRENS OF VIRGINIA.”
Belasco opened the season of 1907-’08, at the Belasco Theatre, August
31, with a revival of “The Rose of the Rancho,” which he continued to
present there until November 9. On November 11 Miss Bates appeared at
that theatre, where she acted for three weeks, in “The Girl of the
Golden West.” On December 3 he there brought out, for the first time in
New York, a play called “The Warrens of Virginia,” written by William C.
De Mille, son of his old friend and early collaborator, Henry C. De
Mille, and retouched by himself. It had been acted at the Lyric Theatre,
Philadelphia, on November 18. In that play the interest is concentrated
on the character of a general in the service of the Southern
Confederacy, toward the close of the American Civil War, and on the
conduct of his daughter, in a well-contrived emergency, involving the
conflict,--perennial as a dramatic expedient,--between love and duty.
The story is interesting, and it illustrates, in a manner that is both
pictorial and pathetic, the contrasts of circumstances and the
vicissitudes of domestic experience that, necessarily, were incident to
the harrowing condition of fraternal strife then prevalent in this
country. The play, however, is not in any sense either political or
sectional. It has no didactic drift. It does not discuss the war. It
does not advocate either union or disunion. It tells a story, and,
necessarily therefore, it portrays characters. The predominant element
in it is picture, but it contains much incident, of a kind more notable
for utility than novelty, and some of its situations are fraught with
the dramatic element of suspense. Its special charm is a sweet and
gentle domestic atmosphere.
The action is supposed to pass during the twenty-four hours immediately
preceding the surrender of the Confederate army, at Appomattox, April 9,
1865, and to close five years later. Act First occurs in a woodland
glade, near to the abode of the _Warrens_ of Virginia. Acts Second and
Third proceed in a room in that dwelling. Act Fourth, and last, is
placed in a rose garden adjacent to the _Warren_ home. _General Warren_,
a Confederate commander, is ill, broken by care and privation, and he
has been ordered from the field, for rest. _General Griffin_, a Union
commander, has acceded to the request of _General Lee_ that _Warren_
should be passed through the Union lines to his home. _Warren’s_
daughter, _Agatha_, trying to reach the Confederate forces, with such
little relief as the _Warren_ family could supply, has been stopped by
_Lieutenant Burton_, a Union officer,--known to her before the outbreak
of the war,--who loves her, and who is by her beloved, although she has
repulsed him. _Lieutenant Burton_, in turning _Agatha_ back to her home,
begs the privilege of visiting her, if he can obtain leave of absence,
but his request is denied. _General Warren_, however, on the way to his
dwelling, meets with _Burton_ and consents to the proposed visit. A
supply train is expected by the Confederates, and its arrival is vital
to them, while the stoppage of it is equally essential to the forces of
the Union. Stratagem is planned. A bogus despatch is prepared, ordering
the interception of the train at a certain point, and it is desired that
this despatch be captured by the Confederate commander, so that he will
be deceived by it and will send the train another way. The Union
commander utilizes _Lieutenant Burton’s_ wish to visit his sweetheart,
and compels him to carry the despatch,--having previously ascertained
that a movement of the Confederates is intended which will insure
_Burton’s_ capture at _General Warren’s_ home. Various reasons constrain
_Burton_ to carry the despatch,--although his expectation is that he
will be shot as a spy. When the scene shifts to the _Warren_ home
_Agatha_ and _Burton_ meet and they plight their faith as lovers.
_Burton_ is captured by the Confederates, but _Agatha_ has obtained the
despatch and has concealed it in her shoe. Her purpose is to shield her
lover; but _General Warren_, surmising that she knows where the document
is concealed, appeals to her in such a way that she breaks down and
surrenders it. The _General_ is deceived. The supply train is despatched
in a wrong direction and is captured by the Union forces. The conduct of
_Burton_ thereupon is stigmatized as grossly dishonorable; _Agatha_
renounces him; and, making no defence, he is likely to be shot. The
surrender of the Confederate army terminates the war, and thus
_Burton’s_ life is saved. After the lapse of five years he once more
repairs to the _Warren_ home and renews his suit for the hand of
_Agatha_. At first his prayer is denied,--notwithstanding the girl still
loves him. The talk of the lovers is heard by _General Warren_, who
appears all the while to have been asleep, and presently the father
recalls the departing lover, and, for his daughter’s sake, consents to a
reconciliation and a marriage: and thus a pretty picture of happy love
and peace is made to close an ordeal of trouble and grief. It seems a
pity that some device could not have been found to make the young
soldier carry the despatch without being aware of the treachery that was
intended. He is forced to act in a dishonorable manner, and he forfeits
all sympathy in the action of the play.
There is no limit to the pathos of conflicting emotions that can be
pictured, incident to war, and especially to a civil war. Some of that
pathos is indicated at moments in this drama. The little children,
concocting a letter to their soldier brother; the agonized lover, who
while waiting for the moment in which the trick to which he has lent
himself will be accomplished, is fondly treated by the girl whom he
loves, and toward whom he feels that he has been deceitful; the worn,
ill, suffering Confederate general, gleeful in his supposed triumph,
waiting for the safe arrival of the supplies that will relieve his
wretched troops, and sitting with his wife by his side and their two
young children at their knees; the blind, almost insane fury of that
deceived, resentful old man when he learns of the capture of those
supplies--those incidents and others like to them are exceedingly
effective. There is excess of dialogue and there is too much attention
to unimportant detail delaying the action. The incident of the father’s
kneeling to his daughter is copied from Wills’s splendid play of
“Charles I”--in
[Illustration:
Photograph by Otto Sarony. Belasco’s Collection.
CHARLOTTE WALKER AS _AGATHA WARREN_, IN “THE WARRENS OF VIRGINIA”]
which the betrayed _King_, in a similar situation, begs _Lord Murray_ to
bring his forces to the rescue of the royal arms. The opening
incident--the meeting of the Union and the Confederate soldier--is
reminiscent of the opening of Boucicault’s “Belle Lamar.” The acting
was, in several instances, superb. Frank Keenan was, in appearance, true
to the indicated ideal of _General Warren_ and his performance was
instinct with the truth of Nature, shown with the delicate exaggeration
of proficient art. Power, dignity, authority, and blended humor and
pathos were its attributes, and it was especially admirable for its
repose. The finest moment in it was that of the outbreak when _Warren_
is apprised of the loss of the supply train and cannot believe that his
son has obeyed orders. Miss Emma Dunn, who acted _Mrs. Warren_, gave a
touching and interesting, because carefully considered, well-planned,
and smoothly and fully executed, impersonation of an affectionate wife
and mother,--the result of close study informed by exact observation and
the intelligence and feeling native to the nature of the actress. Miss
Charlotte Walker as _Agatha Warren_ was extremely handsome and winning,
and, in the lighter moments of the play, acted with charming effect. The
stage dresses and pictures were, in every detail, historically correct
and characteristic of the period to which the play relates; in fact,
the production was a memorable example of taste and excellence in the
provision of harmonious and helpful stage environment.--“The Warrens of
Virginia” was acted at the Belasco Theatre until May 2, 1908; on May 4
it was transferred to the Stuyvesant Theatre, where it was presented
until the 16th, when that house was closed for the season. This was the
cast:
_General Warren_ Frank Keenan.
_Ruth Warren_ Emma Dunn.
_Agatha_ Charlotte Walker.
_Arthur_ Cecil de Mille.
_Bob_ Richard Story.
_Betty_ Mary Pickford.
_Miss Molly Hatton_ Blanche Yerka.
_Gen. Griffin_ } Of _Gen._ { William McVay.
_Gen. Harding_ } { DeWitt Jennings.
_Gen. Carr_ } _Grant’s_ Staff { E. Allen Martin.
_Lieutenant Burton_ C. D. Waldron.
_Blake_ Raymond L. Bond.
_Corporal DePeyster_ Stanhope Wheatcroft.
_Zack Biggs_ Frederick Watson.
_Billy Peavy_ Willard Robertson.
_Tom Dabney_ Ralph Kellerd.
_Sapho_ Mrs. Chas. G. Craig.
Of the Mary Pickford who appeared in this cast as _Betty Warren_--and
who gave an agreeable performance--Belasco affords this reminiscence,
which it is specially pleasant to quote here because instances of
appreciation and gratitude among actors of the present day are not
frequent:
“In ‘The Warrens of Virginia’ two children, a boy and a girl, had
very important parts. I could not find a little girl to suit me,
when one day my stage manager asked me if I would see a child named
Mary Pickford. Little Mary was then a vision of girlish
beauty--with long golden-brown curls. She said she had been hanging
about my stage door for a week, wanted the part and was in fact at
that very moment ready for it. I gave it to her at once, and the
next day she came to rehearsal letter-perfect. In the course of
time she became the ‘Queen of the Movies.’ After a few years I sent
for her to ask her to play in ‘A Good Little Devil.’ She was then
earning $500 a week, but she told me I might name my own price, as
she knew I could not afford to pay that sum. She said she was
willing to lose financially that she might gain artistically. I
regret that she is giving her time to the moving-pictures houses,
for she is a genius in her line.”
“THE EASIEST WAY.”
Mr. Eugene Walter’s play called “The Easiest Way” is one of the most
obnoxious specimens of theatrical trash that have been obtruded on the
modern Stage. It depicts a segment of experience in the life of a
shallow, weak, and vain prostitute, who makes a feeble attempt to reform
but who fails to do so. The significant impartment of that play--in so
far as it possesses any significant impartment--is an intimation that
“the easiest way” in which a woman can obtain and hold a position on the
stage and live in luxury off it is by the sale of her chastity; but that
“the easiest way” will, at last, prove to be the hardest, ending in
misery and a broken heart. The ethical platitude is supposed to
constitute a “moral lesson,” and this disgusting play was proclaimed as
instructive and admonitory in its purpose. The assumption of a right and
duty to “teach good moral lessons” in the Theatre by causing the public
mind to dwell with tolerant familiarity on wholly commonplace and sordid
proceedings and experiences of blackguards, rakes, pimps, and harlots,
as such, is as stupid as it is impudent, but it has been made by some of
the most eminent men and women of the Stage. Lester Wallack produced
Boucicault’s tainted drama of “Forbidden Fruit,” and trailed the banner
of the noble Wallack tradition in the gutter by doing so; Richard
Mansfield, to the end of his life, retained in his repertory the
feculent play of “A Parisian Romance” (produced by A. M. Palmer); Mme.
Modjeska introduced in our Theatre Mr. Sudermann’s radically pernicious
“Heimat” (“Magda”); William and Madge Kendal exploited the “Tanqueray”
scandal; that great manager and actor John Hare (one of the loveliest
artists that ever graced the Stage) sullied his fair fame by presenting,
and attempting to defend, “The Gay Lord Quex”; Belasco brought out “The
Easiest Way”--and so it goes. Dispute as to the propriety of presenting
such plays is unending. It is not, however, essential to continue that
dispute (of which I have long been sick almost to death) in this place:
my views on the whole subject of the drama of demirepdom have been
explicitly stated in the chapter of this work relating to the play of
“Zaza.” When “The Easiest Way” was first made known in New York I wrote
and published these words of comment:
It is melancholy and deplorable that he should have lent his great
reputation to the support of the vicious play which now disgraces his
Stuyvesant Theatre.... No lover of Dramatic Art, no admirer of David
Belasco, can feel anything but regret that he should give the authority
of his great managerial reputation,--the greatest since Augustin Daly’s
death,--and the benefit of his genius and his rich professional
resources to the exposition of a drama that cannot do good.... We do not
want to see in the Theatre the vileness that should be shunned; we want
to see the beauty that should be emulated and loved!
These words expressed my conviction then--and they express my conviction
now. And I am encouraged to believe that my old friend (whose
productions of “Zaza” and “The Easiest Way” I opposed by every means in
my power) has come to my way of thinking on this subject because in a
recently published newspaper article I find him declaring: “Art is not
confined to the gutter and the dregs of life. Rather, real art has more
to do with the beautiful. Perverted and degenerate ideas are the easiest
to treat of in literature, the drama, and the stage.”
“The Easiest Way” was produced with vigilant attention to detail.
Nothing was forgotten: the rooms shown were reproductions of fact,--from
the rickety wardrobe, with doors that will not close and disordered
sheets of music and other truck piled on top of it, in the
boarding-house chamber, to the picturesque, discreetly arranged disorder
of the opulent apartments, the signs of a drunken orgy, and the artfully
disclosed and disordered bed. All that stage management could do to
create and deepen the impression of reality was done, and the result was
a deformity magnificently framed to look like nature,--another example
of a thing done perfectly that ought not to have been done at all and
one from which I gladly turn away. This was the cast of “The Easiest
Way”:
_John Madison_ Edward H. Robins.
_Willard Brockton_ Joseph Kilgour.
_Jim Weston_ William Sampson.
_Laura Murdock_ Frances Starr.
_Elfie St. Clair_ Laura Nelson Hall.
_Annie_ Emma Dunn.
“WESTWARD, HO!”--THE SYNDICATE SURRENDERS.--INCIDENTS OF 1909.
Belasco, accompanied by several friends, left New York on February 7,
1909, for San Francisco, where he arrived on the 12th and where he
remained for nearly a month. He had been apprized that the health of his
father was failing and that, in the course of nature, his death was
likely to occur soon. His expedition was prompted by filial affection
and it was undertaken with a heavy heart. His visit, however, greatly
cheered and benefited his aged parent, and the sojourn in his native
city was made a time of festival and happiness. On February 24 a dinner
was given at the Bismarck Café by surviving pupils of the Lincoln
Grammar School, of the classes from 1865 to 1871, at which Belasco was
the principal guest; and on the 27th a supper was given in his honor at
the Bohemian Club. He has written for me this account of his visit:
“...The only really sad time was when at last I had to say
‘Good-bye’ and come away: that was a sorrow. But I would not have
missed the visit back home for all the world! The happiness of
seeing my old father and the pleasure my coming gave him are
priceless memories to me, and I like to think my visit helped him
to hold on: he lived nearly two years longer. I would have gone
back the next year, but I was warned against the agitation our
parting would bring to both of us.... I was so hospitably received
on every hand that I entirely forgot my enterprises in New York and
I felt like a boy again, without a worry. Although it was less than
three years after the earthquake-fire, prosperity was in evidence
everywhere; the spirit of the people was simply wonderful, and it
sent me home encouraged and inspired to attempt greater things. I
am proud that I was born in San Francisco, and I cannot say too
much for the hospitality and overwhelmingly friendly reception
accorded me.... The night at the Lincoln School Dinner was
wonderful. There were about seventy of the ‘boys’ there, and dear
old Professor Bernhard Marks, who had been the principal and who
was nearly eighty, presided and called the roll, just as he used to
do when we were all lads. Sometimes a silence followed a name; many
times there came the answer ‘Dead,’ and now and then somebody
responded ‘Present.’ I cried! Then the principal put us through our
paces again, at the old lessons, and dealt out cuts on the hand
with very little of the old-time vigor. After that there were
speeches, and so many lovely things were said about me that I was
too embarrassed to reply properly: I remember that I began by
saying it was the happiest night of my life--and then stood there
with tears running down my cheeks! But I managed to say a few words
that pleased them, and then there were many calls for me to recite
‘The Madman’ and at last I got up to do it. I started in with
restraint, to
[Illustration:
Photograph in Belasco’s Collection.
DAVID BELASCO AND HIS FATHER, HUMPHREY ABRAHAM BELASCO, IN SAN
FRANCISCO, FEBRUARY, 1909--THEIR LAST MEETING]
give it properly, as I would now, but the ‘old boys’ wouldn’t have
it. They began to catcall and cry ‘Nix! Nix!’ ‘The old way! the
_old_ way!’ and they made me get up on one of the tables and begin
all over again and give it in the good old way, raving and
shrieking and tearing my hair, as I used to do when a boy, when the
audiences used to say I’d break a blood-vessel if I kept on! So I
went through with it, though it was pretty hard work, and they were
so delighted they made me give ‘The Vagabonds’ for an _encore_, but
I ‘stuck’ dead, halfway through that, and couldn’t go on to save my
soul, so they let me off....
“I didn’t know the names of all those who came, but by and by I
would recognize a glance of an eye or the turn of a head and recall
that I knew that fellow when he was a boy. They were so much
altered--one of the greatest scamps of the school was a staid,
respected banker, and another was a portly physician of the highest
standing, and so on. It was all very interesting to me--and at
times very pathetic and touching....
“My night at the Bohemian rather overwhelmed me--when I looked
about and saw many of the leading men of San Francisco and
remembered the days when I couldn’t even get into that club! They
gave a play in my honor, by Dr. Shiels, and there were many
charming speeches and I made my acknowledgments as well as I could,
and then they gave me a cartoon, painted by Neuhaus. It shows me
kneeling at the shrine of The Owl [the symbol of the Bohemian
Club], presenting my offering, ‘The Rose of the Rancho,’ to their
patron bird of Bohemia.”
I have endeavored to obtain reports of the speeches at these festivals
but have been unable to do so. At the Lincoln Grammar School Dinner the
speakers were Professor Marks, Charles A. Miller, Joseph Greenberg,
James I. Taylor, Charles F. Gall, and J. J. McBride, all of San
Francisco, and Arthur L. Levinsky, of Stockton. Among the speakers at
the Bohemian Club supper were Dr. J. Wilson Shiels, Joseph D. Redding,
Charles J. Fields, Willis Polk, Waldemar Young, and Mackenzie
Gordon.--Belasco left San Francisco for New York on March 2 and arrived
there on the 7th.
In the spring of 1909, soon after he returned from his visit to San
Francisco, the Theatrical Syndicate practically surrendered in its fight
to exclude Belasco from the theatres which it dominated. The reason for
this surrender was, of course, purely selfish. The Belasco theatrical
productions were not only the best that were being made in America but,
also, they were among the most profitable. He had long been firmly
established in public favor: he was managing two splendid theatres in
New York: he controlled, directly or indirectly, others in other cities:
each season he had grown more influential: it was a manifest
impossibility to crush him: many janitorial managers of theatres in
different parts of the country were bitterly dissatisfied because his
popular and remunerative productions were not “booked” in their
theatres: the obvious course of commercial expediency was to terminate a
losing conflict and utilize and prosper by the leading theatrical
manager in America: to the Syndicate, as to _Petruchio_ in _Grumio’s_
description of him, “nothing comes amiss so money comes withal,” and the
greatest wonder is not that it forgave Belasco the heinous crime of
working for his own advantage but that, at heavy financial loss, it so
long debarred him from the “first-class territory.” The upshot of the
various considerations indicated was an understanding between the
parties in opposition (namely, the booking agency of the Messrs. Klaw &
Erlanger, representing the Syndicate, on the one side, and Mr. and Mrs.
Harrison Grey Fiske and Belasco, on the other), whereby,--as set forth
in a statement issued by Fiske,--it was arranged that “Klaw & Erlanger
and Fiske and Belasco will hereafter, _whenever mutually agreeable_,
play attractions in each other’s theatres.” Since that understanding was
reached, April 29, 1909, they have, as far as I know, done so.
I am far from regarding _any_ association between Belasco and the
Theatrical Syndicate as being either for his best interest or for that
of the American Stage. Belasco, however, thinks differently, and in a
recent conversation with me he summed up his feeling about the Syndicate
in these words: “In the conferences initiated by our lawyer Mr. Gerber
[David Gerber was attorney for Belasco as well as for Klaw & Erlanger]
it was found that we could enter upon business relations for the
betterment of the American Stage without any sacrifice of principle or
integrity, and I think our arrangement has been beneficial for the
Stage. I am older than I used to be; I have no ill-feeling; our
relations are very friendly, and _I_ am satisfied to ‘let the dead past
bury its dead.’” That is very well--but, as it happens, all that was
truly urged by Fiske and Belasco (among others) in opposition to the
Theatrical Syndicate _before_ the business understanding above recorded
remained equally true _after_ it; newspaper files and many legal
instruments are accessible and anybody can consult them who wishes to do
so; the public record cannot be evaded. I am thoroughly familiar with
the annals of the Syndicate and I do not agree with Belasco in his
present friendly and favorable attitude. On the contrary, I am satisfied
that the influence of the Syndicate upon matters of dramatic art must,
in the nature of things, remain vulgar and degrading, and in matters of
business oppressive and sordid, to the end of the chapter. Public
opinion, however, and that of the newspaper press has long been
indifferent on this subject, and I am now convinced that it is only by
the passing away of the men who compose the Syndicate (in whom,
happily, “nature’s copy’s not eterne”) and the accession to theatrical
management of men of higher character and ideals and finer intellect
that the American Theatre will be measurably redeemed from its impaired
estate.
Belasco’s course, meanwhile, in dealing with the Syndicate has been
incorrectly described as “a surrender” on his part and he has been much
misrepresented therein. From the first of difference and dispute he
maintained his right to _independence_ in the conduct of his managerial
business. In various conversations with me, many years before the
arrangement with his opponents was reached, he declared, in substance,
half-a-score of times or more: “I have no wish to try to interfere with
these people [meaning the Syndicate] in _their_ business. What _I_ am
fighting for is _my_ right to book _my_ productions with whatever
managers want to book them, for _my_ best advantage.”
A newspaper intimation that Belasco, while booking through the Syndicate
agency, would “fear to offend the Trust” brought from him (1909) the
following specific disclaimer of subserviency:
“Please deny for me, emphatically, the statement that I ‘hesitate
to give offence to the Theatrical Trust.’ My position regarding the
Theatrical Trust is too well known, I hope, for anyone to believe
that!”
Mr. Lee Shubert, who controlled theatres competing with Syndicate houses
in which Belasco productions were presented for a long time after the
Syndicate agreed to book for him, made the following comment on the
understanding:
“So far as myself and my associates are concerned we cannot
disapprove of a development which shows advancement of the policy
of the ‘open door,’ for which we have fought. It is gratifying to
us to note that the tendency toward a general letting down of the
bars, which were up so long and so unjustly against independent
producers, is so emphatically in evidence in the change of attitude
both on the part of Erlanger and Belasco and Fiske. We have
produced and procured our own attractions, and will continue to do
so with such measure of success as may be ours. _I have contended
always that the time would come when the bars must be let down and
successful producers welcomed wherever they were willing to play
their attractions...._ We are independents, and Messrs. Belasco and
Fiske are independents. Whatever steps they may take in an
independent way we cannot with consistency disapprove. It is really
of little moment to the public, which cares little about whose
attractions it may pay to see and in what theatre it may see them
so long as the attractions are worth the money.”
One immediate result of the Fiske-Belasco arrangement with the Syndicate
was the settlement out of court of the lawsuits over “The Auctioneer,”
implicating Klaw & Erlanger, Belasco, and Joseph Brooks, and the
withdrawal of the appeal by Belasco, in that matter, which had been
filed April 13, 1906.
A painful incident of this year (1909) was a bitter attack on Belasco
made by his former friend and professional associate Mrs. Leslie Carter.
That singular woman, having appeared in John Luther Long’s absurd play
of “Kassa” and made a failure, was pleased to ascribe that regrettable
result not to a bad play and a tiresome performance but to the malign
influence of Belasco! A long and silly “statement” was issued in her
behalf to the effect that there was a plan on foot to interfere with
“her career” in that play, and it was intimated that Belasco was the
instigator of this alleged nefarious scheme. Later Mrs. Carter gave out
another screed, which was circulated throughout the press of the
country, reflecting in the most gross and unwarranted way upon the man
who had made her theatrical career possible, and in which she declared:
“If I were going to die and could save my life by playing again for
David Belasco, I would not do it!” As nothing could ever have induced
him to resume the management of Mrs. Carter this declaration was a
trifle superfluous. Belasco’s only comment on this matter was explicit:
“It is,” he said, “absolutely false that I have sought, or desired, in
any way, to injure Mrs. Carter. It is monstrous that such a thing
should be said against me, and monstrous that anybody should dare to ask
me if it is true.”
During the summer of 1909 Belasco proposed to his old friend Lotta that
she return to the stage under his management (she had retired from it
about 1890) and make a farewell tour of the country. “I urged her all I
could,” Belasco writes, “because I knew I could make her reappearance
and tour a sensational success and that the public would be delighted to
see the little Lotta of other days. At first I wouldn’t take ‘No’ for an
answer, and for a while Miss Lotta was inclined to accept my proposal.
But, finally, she declined, saying: ‘I’ve seen so many people make the
same mistake, when they’ve grown old and outlived their public, of
coming back to appear in the parts that were written for them in their
youth. “Other days, other ways.” It is better to let my old friends
remember me as they saw me many years ago. I shall never act again.’”
That was a wise decision. No doubt there would have been much friendly
interest in a formal farewell by Lotta; but the elfin charm of her youth
was gone and the venture would have inspired sadness: “Yesterday’s smile
and yesterday’s frown can never come over again!”
THE SEASON OF 1909-’10: “IS MATRIMONY A FAILURE?”--“THE LILY”--AND “JUST
A WIFE.”
Belasco produced three new plays in the season of 1909-’10,--“Is
Matrimony a Failure?”, “The Lily,” and “Just a Wife.” “Is Matrimony a
Failure?” is a clever farce, adapted by Leo Ditrichstein from a German
original, “Die Thür ins Freie,” by Oscar Blumenthal and Gustav
Kadelberg. It relates to the ancient, evergreen subject of conjugal
friction,--which, in this instance, seems intolerable but proves
indispensable,--and it implicates ten married couples and one pair of
prospective connubialists. The scene is a pleasant country town in New
York. A coterie of husbands has grown restive under what is deemed to be
an excessive exercise, by their wives, of matrimonial authority. A
lawyer named _Paul Barton_ visits the town to settle the estate of an
old Justice of the Peace, recently deceased, ascertains that the wedding
ceremonies of the various couples implicated were performed by that
official’s clerk, in the absence of his employer, and declares them to
be illegal. The husbands decline to validate their marriages unless
their wives agree to permit them greater freedom than they have enjoyed,
and, leaving their homes, establish themselves at a neighboring
inn,--where they soon find that, however irksome may have seemed the
dominion of their wives, it is immensely preferable to the total lack of
their society. More particular rehearsal of the complications,
cross-purposes, and conflicts woven about this posture of circumstance
would be superfluous: they were not less comic and amusing because the
legal quirk upon which the original play was based is inapplicable under
the law of the State of New York. The farce was exquisitely set and
admirably played,--especially by that excellent light-comedian and
lovable man, the late Frank Worthing,--and it enjoyed acceptance
bounteous and remunerative. “Is Matrimony a Failure?” was first acted at
Atlantic City, New Jersey, August 29, 1909, and, in New York, at the
Belasco Theatre, on the 23d of that month,--with the following cast:
THE HUSBANDS.
_Skelton Perry_ Frank Worthing.
_Hugh Wheeler_ W. J. Ferguson.
_Frank Bolt_ James Bradbury.
_Albert Rand_ Edward Langford.
_Jasper Stark_ John F. Webber.
_David Meek_ F. Newton Lindo.
_Dr. Hoyt_ Robert Rogers.
_George Wilson_ Marshall Stuart.
_Lem Borden_ Gilmore Scott.
_Herman Ringler_ Frank Manning.
[Illustration:
Photograph by White. Belasco’s Collection.
NANCE O’NEILL AS _ODETTE DE MAIGNY_ AND JULIA DEAN (THE YOUNGER) AS
_CHRISTIANE DE MAIGNY_, IN “THE LILY”]
THE WIVES.
_Fanny Perry_ Jane Cowl.
_Kate Wheeler_ Louise Mackintosh.
_Madge Bolt_ Anne Sutherland.
_Alice Rand_ Louise Woods.
_Annie Stark_ Lou Ripley.
_Lucy Meek_ Gretta Vandell.
_Helen Hoyt_ Blanche Yurka.
_Julia Wilson_ Helen Braun.
_Natalie Borden_ Julia Reinhardt.
_Sadie Ringler_ Josie Morris Sullivan.
_Paul Barton_ William Morris.
_Lulu Wheeler_ Jane Grey.
_Carrie_ Helen Ferguson.
“Jane Cowl,” said Belasco, “had been with me for several years,
understudying many parts in different plays, acting ‘bits,’ and working
hard. I felt that she had earned her chance, and I gave it to her in
‘Matrimony.’ Her performance was splendid and she has been successful
ever since.”
“The Lily” is a play in four acts, adapted by Belasco from a French
original, “Le Lys,” by MM. Pierre Wolff and Gaston Leroux. It was
produced for the first time, December 6, 1909, at the Belasco Theatre,
Washington, and was first acted in New York, at the Stuyvesant, December
23. The story of this play is one of domestic tyranny, possible in
France but impossible in America, and one which, accordingly, inspired
only tepid interest in the American public,--although the treatment and
presentation of it were in a high degree theatrically effective. This is
the substance of that story: The _Comte de Maigny_, a profligate
Frenchman who is also a father and a widower, tyrannizes over his
children. The eldest of those children, _Odette_, is “the lily,”--a
woman of thirty-five who, in girlhood, has been parted by her father
from the man she wished to marry and who has become a mere domestic
convenience, dwelling in lonely celibacy as her father’s housekeeper and
lavishing her affection upon her sister, who is ten years younger. That
sister, _Christiane_, is destined by their father for the same barren
existence, but she meets a strolling artist, who wins her love and with
whom, because he cannot wed her,--being already married to an
uncongenial woman who will not divorce him,--she enters into an illicit
relation. _De Maigny_ has contrived to arrange a loveless marriage
between his son and the young daughter of a man of great wealth,--being
intent thus to obtain money for libidinous self-indulgence. The relation
of _Christiane_ and her artist becoming known to that person, he breaks
off the marriage of his daughter with _Christiane’s_ brother, not
explicitly stating his reason but with ambiguous givings out which
intimate it. The chief scenes of the play then follow. The infuriated
licentiate badgers his unfortunate daughter, who, at first, lies to
protect herself, until, at last, he elicits from her a rebellious,
exultant declaration of the truth. Then, in the fury of his disappointed
cupidity, he is about to beat her, when the long-suppressed,
meek-seeming but actually passionate _Odette_, opening her valves under
an immense and rising pressure of emotional steam, intervenes,
denouncing the conventions of society in general and the iniquities of
_de Maigny_ in particular, certifying to the propriety of her sister’s
conduct in the wretched circumstances existing, and declaring her
purpose to protect that sister in her natural desire for “love and
happiness.” _Christiane_ then departs with her lover and the expectation
of deferred matrimony, and her disgruntled parent, practically ejected
from his home, goes off to Paris, whining that a waiter will probably
close his eyes in death,--a pious kindness which the spectator hopes may
be performed at an early date.
The play, of course, was devised for the sake of the sudden, blistering
outburst by the elderly spinster--which in representation is undeniably
effective--and, in the French original, for the sake of emitting some
specious special pleading in extenuation and justification of illicit
conduct. As to the doctrine which _Odette_ declares in this play and
which _Christiane_ and her unhappily married swain exemplify,--the
doctrine, namely, that when two persons who love each other are held
asunder by cruel chance of social circumstance they are warranted in
setting aside convention in order to come together,--its utter fallacy
is too obvious for detection. Practical application of it, however, has
often provided variously dramatic results: pathetic exposition of some
of its possible consequences, to helpless, innocent persons, is made in
Collins’ great novel of “No Name.” Belasco, in presenting his modified
version of “Le Lys,” sought to evade the ethical issue, but he added one
more to his long list of plays perfectly environed and admirably acted.
Miss Nance O’Neil, who appeared in it as _Odette_, has been designated
as a “tragic actress” (which she is not) and has been extravagantly
extolled. She possesses rough natural ability, animal strength, vocal
capacity, some sensibility and considerable power of forceful
simulation. Most of her performances have been monotonous: in this one,
in which, practically, she had only one scene and in which, furthermore,
she had the advice and assistance of a consummate stage manager, she was
interesting and impressive,--uttering the verbal explosion
[Illustration:
Photograph by the Misses Selby. Author’s Collection.
BELASCO, ABOUT 1911]
of voluble vehemence addressed to _de Maigny_ with fine abandon,
passionate intensity, and powerful effect.--The cast of “The Lily” is
appended:
_Comte de Maigny_ Charles Cartwright.
_Vicomte Maximilien de Maigny_ Alfred Hickman.
_Huzar_ Bruce McRae.
_Georges Arnaud_ Wm. J. Kelly.
_Bernard_ Leo Ditrichstein.
_Emile Plock_ Dodson Mitchell.
_Joseph_ Marshall Stuart.
_Jean_ Douglas Patterson.
_Michel_ Robert Robson.
_Odette_ } _De Maigny’s_ daughters { Nance O’Neil.
_Christiane_ } { Julia Dean.
_Lucie Plock_ Florence Nash.
_Suzanne_ Ethel Grey Terry.
_Alice_ Aileen Flaven.
“Just a Wife” was written by Mr. E. Walter and was first acted at the
Colonial Theatre, Cleveland, Ohio, January 17, 1910, and at the Belasco
Theatre, New York, on the 31st of that month. As a playwright that
writer has exhibited a persistent, morbid preoccupation with the subject
of illicit sexual relations which suggests the possible utility of
vigorous open-air exercise, the cold sitz-bath and potassium bromide. In
this play a libertine named _John Emerson_, who has consorted with a
widow named _Lathrop_ until their relation has become a public scandal,
by way of “keeping up appearances” marries an impecunious vestal from
South Carolina, named _Mary Ashby_. As he immediately installs _Mrs.
Emerson_ in a luxurious rural habitation somewhere on Long Island and
practically deserts her, this expedient would hardly seem to be of much
social service. However, after neglecting his wife for about six years,
_Emerson_ grows weary of his mistress, quarrels with her and runs away
from her to visit his wife. The mistress, much incensed, follows him,
and a sort of three-cornered debate,--protracted, sophistical, and
indelicate,--on the sexual relation is held at _Mrs. Emerson’s_ country
residence, in the course of which that lady manifests a sweet temper and
admirable self-control. After it is over, _Mrs. Lathrop_ (to whom it has
been intimated that in men the ruling passion is sex impulse and that
she is growing somewhat elderly) goes away in a peaceful and much
chastened mood. _Mrs. Emerson_ then snubs her neglectful spouse and
signifies that he may not hope to possess her as his wife until he has
recognized the supremacy of Love, which it is implied he will soon do.
It is all very edifying, of course,--especially as the author of it,
apparently, knows as much about love, as distinguished from carnal
concupiscence, as a tomcat on the tiles does. This was the cast:
_John Emerson_ Edmund Breese.
_Bobby Ashby_ Ernest Glendinning.
_Maxcy Steuer_ “Bobby” North.
_Wellesley_ Frederick Burton.
_Mary Ashby Emerson_ Charlotte Walker.
_Eleanor Lathrop_ Amelia Gardner.
A CHANGE OF NAMES.--THE FARCE OF “THE CONCERT.”
Belasco’s management of the theatre in West Forty-second Street which
was the first to bear his name extended over a period of twelve years.
In the spring of 1910 he began to feel dubious as to whether he
would,--perhaps as to whether he could,--renew his lease at the end of
its term, two years later. He therefore determined to restore to that
house its former name of the Republic, and thereafter to designate the
Stuyvesant as the Belasco Theatre. That change, accordingly, was made,
in July, 1910; and on August 22 the Republic Theatre was reopened under
that name with a performance of a play made by Mr. Winchell Smith, on
the basis of a clever and amusing story by Mr. George Randolph Chester,
called “Bobby Burnitt”: that play was produced by Cohan & Harris. On
October 10 the second Belasco Theatre was opened with a performance of
“The Concert,” adapted by Leo Ditrichstein from a German original by
Herman Bahr: it had been acted, for the first time, at the Nixon
Theatre, Pittsburgh, September 19.
The theme of “The Concert” is an old one,--Woman’s infatuation relative
to the Musical Performer. The intention is to satirize that foolish
state of the female mind, and also to expose and ridicule a despicable
combination of febrile sensuousness, splenetic temper, and insensate
egotism, often, and unjustly, designated “the artistic temperament.”
That intention is accomplished in a manner certainly ludicrous, though
heavy-handed and cynical: it is characteristic that the Stage of the
Present, reflecting some aspects of life in the Present, while from time
to time it exhibits much that is clever, brilliant, hard, satirical,
exhibits little--whether of writing or of acting--that is amiable,
playful, engaging, pleasant, and therefore potent to make the spirit
gentle and happy. The chief postulate of “The Concert” and the
manipulation of it are strongly reminiscent of “Delicate Ground” and
“Divorçons.” The musician, _Gabor Arany_, having lied to his wife as to
a purposed excursion from his home, which he says is undertaken for the
purpose of “giving a concert,”--goes to a secluded retreat in the
mountains of New York with one of his pupils, the wife of another man,
intending an amorous intrigue with her. The other man, in
[Illustration:
Photograph by White. Belasco’s Collection.
LEO DITRICHSTEIN AS _GABOR ARANY_ AND JANET BEECHER AS _HELEN_, _MRS.
ARANY_, IN “THE CONCERT”]
company with the wife of the musician, pursues those fugitives, and,
when the two couples are confronted, the insulted husband, after the
manner of _Citizen Sangfroid_, blandly proposes that the complication of
domestic affairs shall be solved and adjusted by an exchange of wives,
sequent on the attainment of divorce. The silly woman who admires the
musician is rescued by exposure of his selfishness and her folly, the
musician is baffled and rebuked, and domestic peace is supposed to be
restored.
Mr. Ditrichstein called his adaptation of Mr. Bahr’s play “a comedy.”
The terms applied to plays, by way of classification, are somewhat
indefinite at the best, but as to _Comedy_,--the general understanding
is that it should be a dramatic composition which, in delineating
character and manners, while piquant by virtue of delicate exaggeration
and amusing by virtue of clever equivoke, moves within the limits of
reason and probability. “The Concert” begins with farce and proceeds
with violent absurdity. The persons implicated would not, in real life,
act in a manner even approximate to that which is prescribed for them.
The note that is struck, considered at its best, is that of burlesque.
The play, in as far as it is a play,--the clash of character and the
exposition of conduct,--begins in the Second Act. Sixteen persons are
implicated in the action of the piece, but only seven of them are seen
after the first curtain has fallen. The tone of the Second and Third
acts, except at moments, is radically and extravagantly farcical. But
toward the end an opportunity occurs, and it is duly improved,--perhaps
in jest, perhaps in earnest,--of saying the magnanimous words that are
usually attributed to philosophical lovers: “If you love a woman, and
that woman happens to be your wife, you wish her to be _happy_, and if
you discover that she thinks she can be happier with another man than
she is with you your wish is that she should join him, if she can be
sure of her feelings”; and so forth. At the close of this piece the wife
of the genius affectionately assures him that she has all along
understood his conduct, but is willing to pardon him if he will be
faithful in future, and, by way of emphasizing her docile, charitable,
and eminently tolerant spirit, she produces bottles of hair-dye and
proceeds to rejuvenate his fading locks.--The scenic setting, the stage
management, and the acting by which this farce were commended to public
approbation were so appropriate, so resourceful and deft, so careful,
zealous, spirited, and effective, that it gained immense popularity.
This was the original cast of “The Concert”:
_Gabor Arany_ Leo Ditrichstein.
_Dr. Dallas_ William Morris.
_McGinnis_ John W. Cope.
_Helen Arany_ Janet Beecher.
_Flora Dallas_ Jane Grey.
_Eva Wharton_ Alice Leal Pollock.
_Mrs. McGinnis_ Belle Theodore.
_Miss Merk_ Catherine Proctor.
_Fanny Martin_ Edith Cartwright.
_Claire Flower_ Margaret Bloodgood.
_Natalie Moncrieff_ Adelaide Barrett.
_Edith Gordon_ Cora Witherspoon.
_Georgine Roland_ Elsie Glynn.
_Laura Sage_ Edna Griffin.
_Mrs. Lennon-Roch_ Kathryn Tyndall.
_Mrs. Chatfield_ Mary Johnson.
LOSS AND GRIEF.--“NO MAN BEARS SORROW BETTER.”
“Thanks for your kind sympathy, dear William Winter,” Belasco wrote to
me, in July, 1911. “I have thought of you so often in my grief. I should
be glad to come over to your island to see you, but I am not able.... I
am trying to be resigned; and, though the pain is great, I must be.
Nothing can ever be the same again, and it is all very, very hard. Yet I
must go on, and I shall. There is nothing but our work....” He had,
within less than two months of each other, lost his father and his
dearly loved daughter Augusta,--Mrs. William Elliott. His father was
stricken on April 6th, and he died on the 11th, at his home, No. 1704
Sutter Street, San Francisco. Belasco, however, was at that time in
almost distracted attendance on his daughter, at Asheville, North
Carolina, and could not leave her when he received news of his father’s
illness; nor was he able to attend his funeral. Humphrey Abraham Belasco
was buried beside his wife in Hills of Eternity Cemetery, San Mateo,
California, April 12th.
The death of Belasco’s daughter,--“my little guardian,” as he has called
her in talk with me,--was a bereavement more than usually bitter. She
was a creature of extraordinary goodness and beauty, of exquisite
sensibility, gentle and lovely in nature, childlike in disposition, the
pitiful friend of all sorrowing and suffering persons, the special
comrade and comfort of her father, and her death came within less than
five months after her marriage--to the actor William Elliott. When
Belasco was informed of his child’s attachment to Elliott (whom she had
met when he was a member of the company supporting Miss Starr in “The
Rose of the Rancho”) he, at first, opposed their marriage,--“Not,” as he
has told me, “that I had any personal objection to ‘Billy,’--who is a
dear fellow
[Illustration:
“_Oft in the still night_
_Ere Slumber’s chain has bound me_
_Fond Memory brings the light_
_Of Other Days around me._”
From an original made for, and loaned by, Mrs. David Belasco.
]
and whom I always liked,--but because I had hoped she would choose a
husband out of the theatrical profession, one who could live all his
life with her,--which the inevitable travelling of theatrical life makes
practically impossible. But when I saw that my little girl was pining
for him, that a great love had come to her and that she could never be
happy without him, I brushed all my own hopes and wishes away and urged
their immediate marriage. I thought to keep her always near her mother
and me, so as a wedding gift I had an apartment fitted up for them in
the Marie Antoinette, where we live, and we were all going to be
together and happy: but it was not to be.”
William Elliott and Augusta Belasco were wedded, at the home of her
parents, January 27, 1911: as they were about to start on their
honeymoon, the bride, while bidding good-bye to her father, was stricken
with sudden illness and collapsed. At first it was believed that her
illness was merely a transient disorder, which would soon yield to
treatment. For a few weeks her condition fluctuated, but seemed, on the
whole, to improve: then, at the end of March, she began rapidly to
decline, and Belasco was informed that she was afflicted with an acute
form of tuberculosis, which must soon cause her death. That was an issue
which her father could not and would not accept without a bitter
struggle. “I had seen so many desperate cases of consumption saved, for
years,” he said, “that I _could not believe_ my little girl, who had
always seemed so strong and well, who was so young and lovely, on the
threshold of her new life, with everything to live for, must die. I
gathered her up, overnight, and fled with her to Asheville.” There
Belasco leased Witchwood, a fine residence,--the home of the late
Colonel Charles W. Woolsey,--and installed his daughter in it. Her fatal
malady could not, however, be stayed, though every expedient was tried
that love could prompt or wealth employ, and she grew rapidly worse. On
May 1, in a forlorn hope that the climate of Colorado might prove
beneficial, Belasco chartered a special train and removed her to
Broadmoor, a beautiful place in the environs of Colorado
Springs,--where, on the afternoon of June 5, after great suffering borne
with patience and fortitude, she died. Her body was taken to New York;
funeral services were held there, at the Temple Ahawath Chesed, on June
9, and late on that day she was laid in her grave in Ahawath Chesed
Cemetery, at Linden Hills, Long Island.
“My little Augusta,” writes Belasco in a note made for me, “was the
gentlest creature I have ever known and the kindest. No one but
myself will ever know how many poor girls and young men have had
places _made_ for them in my companies because she came and asked
it, with her dear little arms about my neck. And she had good
judgment, too; I never have regretted employing any of the people
she interceded for. She was just a child to the very end. She had
caught some of my foolish little superstitions, and when she died
she was surrounded with pretty little painted butterflies that she
had pinned about her to help her to get well--‘and I know they
will,’ she told the doctor, ‘because my father believes in them and
says so!’ Each of my girls was my ‘favorite’ child, but the younger
was my special companion, who always took care of me. Though she
might have been up till all hours the night before, she never
missed getting up to see that I had my breakfast properly, and I
never got home too late for her to come pattering to my room to see
me safely tucked into bed. I think that, in her heart, the poor
child must have had some premonition that she was going to die
soon, because she was so fascinated by my play of ‘Peter Grimm.’ I
had no thought, when I was writing it, that she was to be taken
away from me; but I had long wanted to write something that might
show death in a beautiful way; something that would touch on
immortality as a vivid reality, just a flash beyond this life, and
so help to inspire hope. I used to talk to my little girl about it,
and she was the first to read my play when it was finished. I gave
it to her one evening and waited for her verdict far into the
night, and her approval meant much to me. She attended all the
rehearsals, and one night she told me that after seeing ‘Peter
Grimm’ no one should be afraid to die. It was the last play she
ever saw,--and it is my comfort to believe that its message entered
her soul.”
Belasco’s elder daughter, Reina Victoria, was married to the theatrical
manager Morris Gest, of New York, at Sherry’s, in that city, on June 1,
1909.
A DRAMA OF SPIRITUALISM.
(Fragmentary Notes, Not Revised.)
The extreme dissatisfaction of the _Ghost_, who, on returning from the
spirit world to this mundane sphere, ascertains that his, or her,
earthly sweetheart or husband has formed a nuptial alliance with
somebody else has been noticed by various poetical writers in deeply
affecting verse, dramatic, descriptive, and pathetic,...
Belasco’s play “The Return of Peter Grimm” deals with the mysterious and
certainly important subject of Spiritualism,--a subject which deserves
all the thoughtful, studious inquiry which has, in recent years, been
bestowed on it by many persons of exceptional intellectual capacity and
power. It is, nevertheless, a subject which is generally treated with
pitying contempt or scornful antagonism, especially by those
persons,--the vast majority of humanity,--who are most comprehensively
ignorant of its history and its apparent phenomena. It was, accordingly,
a bold choice which selected that subject for exposition in a drama of
prosaic, contemporaneous
[Illustration: AUGUSTA BELASCO, MRS. WILLIAM ELLIOTT
Original made for, and loaned by, Mrs. David Belasco.
]
setting, and it is a significant testimony at once to Belasco’s
managerial perspicacity and to his skill as a writer and a stage manager
that his play of “Grimm” achieved unusual success....
In the days of my youth, when I was a student at the Dane Law School of
Harvard College, it was my good fortune to gain the friendship of the
erudite lawyer Theophilus Parsons, who was a preceptor there, and to
listen to much interesting and instructive discourse by him on many
subjects--among them, the Swedenborgian faith, to which he was an
absolute and happy adherent. “Death,” he remarked, in expounding to me
the tenets of that faith, “is no more than walking from one room into
another.” The same thought (which has, of course, been cherished by many
persons) seems to have been predominant in the mind of Belasco when he
was writing “The Return of Peter Grimm.”...
BELASCO’S “THE RETURN OF PETER GRIMM.”
In drama, whether prose or verse, the device has frequently been used of
bringing back to our material world the spirits of persons who have
passed out of mortal life, and causing them to pervade the scenes with
which they were associated in the body. That device is employed in
Belasco’s “The Return of Peter Grimm,” in which David Warfield made his
first and, thus far, his only approach to the realm of Imagination
[since this passage was written Warfield has appeared, 1915-’16, as _Van
Der Decken_, in a drama by Belasco on the subject of “The Flying
Dutchman.”--J. W.]. _Peter Grimm_, a prosperous, self-willed, kind, good
old man, who in the government of his family and the arrangement of his
worldly affairs has made serious errors,--the most deplorable of them
being the separation of his ward, a docile, affectionate girl named
_Kathrien_, from a youth who loves her and whom she loves, and her
betrothal to his nephew, _Frederik Grimm_, a hypocrite and a
scoundrel,--is suddenly stricken dead, of heart disease, and, after a
little time his spirit returns to the place which was his earthly home,
intent on retrieving those errors, discomfiting the rascal by whom he
has been deceived, and making his foster-child happy. Warfield,
personating _Peter Grimm_, first presented him as a mortal, afterward as
a spirit. The character,--honest, sturdy, opinionated, worldly-wise,
somewhat rough and imperious, yet intrinsically genial,--was correctly
assumed and expressed, but the actor’s denotement of spiritual being was
neither
[Illustration: REINA BELASCO. MRS. MORRIS GEST
Photograph by White. Belasco Collection.
]
imaginative nor sympathetic, and it did not create even the slightest
illusion.
The purpose of the dramatist seems to have been to intimate a notion,
comfortable to the general mind, that spiritual existence of beings once
mundane is merely a continuation of their everyday condition in this
world. In the absence of knowledge on the subject that assumption is as
tenable as any other. Persons who are commonplace in what we call Time
may reasonably be held to remain commonplace in what we call Eternity.
No one knows. The Book of Destiny has not been opened. But the
rationality of assumption which makes of “that undiscovered country”
only a prolongation of this earthly scene at once dissipates, especially
for dramatic purpose and effect, all atmosphere of _spirituality_, all
glamour of the ideal, which happily might be superinduced by imaginative
treatment of a mysterious subject. However prosaic the quality of a
disembodied spirit may remain, it seems reasonable to assume that there
must be some essential difference between the material body and the
spiritual body, and the person undertaking to represent a spirit could
succeed, if at all, in denoting that difference not by stage tricks but
only by mental power and affluence of emotion, by weird strangeness of
individuality, by exquisite sensibility, by magnetism, and by the
artistic skill to liberate those forces and so elicit and control the
sympathy of his auditors. Warfield’s personation of _Grimm_ gave not the
faintest intimation of spirituality, and there was not one gleam of
imagination in his presentment of the spirit.
Few actors have ever succeeded in conveying to an audience any really
convincing, absorbing sense of _spiritual presence_. The dramatist of
“Peter Grimm” probably did not intend that any such sense should be
conveyed. Warfield, apparently, did not attempt to convey it, and if, as
appears true, it was the actor’s purpose to present _Grimm_ as
essentially the same person after death as before, then his personation,
undoubtedly, was the rounded result of a definite plan, and was, as
such, entirely successful.
The part of _Peter Grimm_ has been described as one of great difficulty.
It is, on the contrary, very easy. Its requirement is sincerity.
_Grimm_, as a spirit, clothed as in mortal life, must move among persons
who were his friends, unseen by them, unheard when he speaks, eagerly
desirous to influence their conduct, but practically helpless to do so,
except at moments when accession of extreme sensibility on the part of
one or another of them provides occasion, until, at last, force of
circumstances and the impelling guidance of the dead man achieve his
purpose. Acted in the spirit precisely as in the flesh, as a good old
man, the part makes no draft upon the resources of mind or feeling or
upon the faculty of expression that any good actor might not easily
satisfy. The situations wherein _Grimm_, ostensibly, is ignored by the
other persons on the stage in fact revolve around him and are dependent
on his presence; he engages the sympathy of the audience practically to
the exclusion of all the other characters, and the almost universal
interest--whether assenting or dissenting--in anything relating directly
to the theme of spiritual survival after death, together with the
novelty of a ghost displayed in the environment of every-day, centres
observation on _Grimm_ and his personator.
Warfield’s performance, notwithstanding the prosaic atmosphere of it,
was interesting, and his excursion into the realm of the occult was, at
least, calculated to stimulate thought on a serious subject. In this, as
in many other matters, the degree of approval gained by the play and its
performance will ever be variably accordant to taste. To some persons,
no doubt, the ideal of a newly dead child being borne away on his
spirit-uncle’s shoulders, singing about “Uncle Rat has gone to town to
buy his niece a wedding gown,” and musically inquiring, “What shall the
wedding breakfast be? Hard-boiled eggs and a cup of tea?” will be
delightful. Others, equally without doubt, will fail to find it
impressive.
“The Return of Peter Grimm” was acted for the first time, January 2,
1911, at the Hollis Street Theatre, Boston; and for the first time in
New York, October 18, the same year, at the present Belasco Theatre.
This was the original cast of that play:
_Peter Grimm_ David Warfield.
_Frederik Grimm_ John Sainpolis.
_James Hartman_ Thomas Meighan.
_Andrew MacPherson_ Joseph Brennan.
_Rev. Henry Batholommey_ William Boag.
_Colonel Tom Lawton_ John F. Webber.
_Willem_ Percy Helton.
_Kathrien_ Janet Dunbar.
_Mrs. Batholommey_ Marie Bates.
_Marta_ Marie Reichardt.
_The Clown_ Tony Bevan.
CONCERNING THE EUNUCHS OF CRITICASTERISM.
The gentle Goldsmith, commenting on a meanness in human nature which
causes little minds to envy and disparage the achievements of large
ones, remarked that “There are a set of men called
[Illustration:
Photograph by White. Belasco’s Collection.
DAVID WARFIELD AS _PETER GRIMM_, IN “THE RETURN OF PETER GRIMM”]
answerers of books, who take upon themselves to watch the republic of
letters and distribute reputation by the sheet: they somewhat resemble
the eunuchs in a seraglio, who are incapable of giving pleasure
themselves and hinder those that would.” Such emasculated perverters of
the function of criticism,--scribblers bloated with envy engendered by
conscious intellectual impotence,--flourish more or less in all periods;
they are peculiarly prosperous in this one, and their envious malice is
employed with at least as much industry in the “answering” and defaming
of dramatists and actors as in the “answering” of books. Before Belasco
had produced “Peter Grimm” in New York and almost in the hour of his
personal bereavement, a representative specimen of that wretched
brotherhood, itching to detract from the achievement of an author whom
he could not hope ever to approach, published the false statement that
Belasco was only _part_ author of that play. Among the papers loaned to
me by Belasco is a copy of the following letter, which I print here
because the misrepresentation alluded to has been several times iterated
and the refutation of it should be placed on record:
(_Belasco to a Quidnunc._)
“Belasco Theatre, New York,
“July 22, 1911.
“In your article in the current ‘--------’ there is a misstatement
which I should be much obliged to you if you would rectify, as it
places both Mr. Cecil De Mille and myself in a false light.
“Your article states that Mr. Cecil De Mille is my ‘_collaborator_’
in Mr. Warfield’s new play, ‘The Return of Peter Grimm.’ I am not
aware whether you saw the play when it was presented in Boston,
Chicago and Pittsburg last season. If you did so, however, you must
remember that on the play bill I gave full credit to Mr. De Mille
_for an idea_--WHICH I PURCHASED FROM HIM AND PAID VERY HANDSOMELY
FOR. As for the play--in its construction, its dialogue, its plot
and its characterizations--the play is _mine_ and MINE ONLY.
“Mr. De Mille, I know well, will be the first person to verify this
statement of mine, and in view of the fact that my play has not yet
been presented in New York--and may possibly prove a failure
there--I think it is only fair that _I_ should be held exclusively
responsible for _my own work_....”
“THE WOMAN”--AND MR. ABRAHAM GOLDKNOPF.
Belasco devoted most of the summer of 1911 to work on William C. De
Mille’s play entitled “The Woman,” which he produced for the first time
in New York, September 19, that year, at the Republic Theatre: a trial
production of that play had been effected, April 17 preceding, at the
New National Theatre, Washington, D. C. It is a highly effective
melodrama, of the “contemporaneous interest” type, and it implicates
twelve persons, nine of whom are germane to its action. It is neat in
construction; it skilfully utilizes the invaluable element of suspense,
and interest in its progress is cumulative to the dramatic climax. This,
in brief, is its story:
A corrupt politician, the _Honorable “Jim” Blake_, a member of the
national legislature, is scheming to get a specious bill enacted into
law, whereby over-capitalization of railroad corporations and wholesale
swindling of the public can be perpetrated in the guise of legality.
Another member of the legislature, the _Honorable Matthew Standish_,
perceptive of the latent iniquity of that measure and of the predatory
intent of _Blake_, has so vigorously opposed the enactment of it and so
bitterly assailed its sponsors that _Blake_ and his associates fear to
force its passage. They determine, therefore, to divert attention of the
people from the opposition of _Standish_ to their corrupt measure and
purposed malfeasance by blasting his personal reputation with social
scandal. In their effort to do this they ascertain that several years
previous the _Honorable Matthew_, inflexible before Plutus, has
succumbed before Venus--has, in short, registered at an hotel with a
woman not his wife. The name of that woman is not known to their
informant, and it is the despicable task of _Blake_ and his adherents to
ascertain her identity in order to ruin his public career by convicting
him of private misconduct. That task they attempt to perform by
endeavoring to extort from a young woman, _Wanda Kelly_, the operator in
charge of a telephone exchange desk, a telephone number in New York
which _Standish_, in Washington, has called for, immediately after being
apprised of the dastardly purpose of _Blake_ and his associates. The
identity of the concealed and errant she as _Blake’s_ daughter, the wife
of one of his chief supporters, the _Honorable Mark Robertson_, is
deftly discovered to the audience by the device of a second telephone
message to her, by her husband, immediately after the close of the
warning of impending disclosure by _Standish_. The sympathetic _Miss
Kelly_ resolutely persists in her protective secrecy as to _The Woman_
at the other end of the wire, and the climax is then attained when
_Standish_ refuses to be driven from his public duty by the threatened
assault on his private character and when _Mrs. Robertson_, having in an
agony of dread listened to the unsuccessful coaxing and badgering of
_Miss Kelly_, with sudden and desperate courage terminates the anxious
situation by avowal of her delinquency, thus providing her corrupt
parent and spouse with considerably more information than they desire
to publish as to the amatory weaknesses of the obdurate _Standish_. This
was the cast with which that play was first presented in New York:
_The Hon. Jim Blake_ John W. Cope.
_Tom Blake_ Harold Vosburgh.
_The Hon. Mark Robertson_ Edwin Holt.
_Grace, Mrs. Robertson_ Jane Peyton.
_The Hon. Matthew Standish_ Cuyler Hastings.
_Ralph Van Dyke_ Carleton Macy.
_The Hon. Silas Gregg_ Stephen Fitzpatrick.
_The Hon. Tim Neligan_ William Holden.
_A Guest_ Langdon West.
_A Page_ George Van Blake.
_A Waiter_ José Rossi.
_Wanda Kelly_ Mary Nash.
The exceptional success of Belasco’s production of “The Woman” prompted
a genius thitherto unknown to fame, a certain inspired and amiable
barber of New York, Mr. Abraham Goldknopf, to assert that it was stolen
from a sublime drama indited by himself in the intervals of tonsorial
exercise and entitled “Tainted Philanthropy.” Belasco, in defending
himself against this preposterous claim, resorted to a unique and costly
though conclusive expedient. But before describing the trial of Mr.
Goldknopf’s allegations, it is convenient here to examine with some
particularity the general subject of
BELASCO AND PLAGIARISM.
“FOLLY LOVES THE MARTYRDOM OF FAME.”
No person rises to eminence without exciting antagonism and incurring
detraction. Malice is quick to perceive any possibility, however
trivial, of tarnishing a distinguished character, and hatred is
ingenious in devising specious means of disparagement. The slightest
appearance of weakness in any talented person favorably conspicuous in
the public eye is eagerly seized as a ground of condemnation. Every
close student of biography must have observed, relative to almost every
eminent person commemorated, that there is always some one particular
form of reproach which, by diligent, persistent iteration, is made to
adhere to that person’s name, so that at last the one is seldom
mentioned without association with the other. Eminent actors of the Past
have been particularly singled out for defamation in this way. Barton
Booth, for example, scholar and poet as well as actor, is stigmatized,
on no competent authority, as a gross voluptuary; Garrick, because he
was prudent, especially while he was poor, is styled an avaricious
niggard; Kemble, an opium sot; Edwin Booth, a drunkard, which is a
specially contemptible slander. Henry Irving was one of the greatest of
actors, but, because he happened to be a person of many peculiarities,
perfectly natural to him, we are forever hearing that he had “affected
mannerisms”--which is distinctly untrue. Every department of biography
furnishes examples of this form of aspersion. In the case of Belasco the
customary disparagement takes the shape of an iterated charge of
_Plagiarism_. In this work an examination of that charge is essential.
“It is an old trick of Detraction,” says Moore, in his “Life of
Sheridan,” “and one of which it never tires, to father the works of
eminent writers upon others; or, at least, while it kindly leaves
an author the credit for his worst performances, to find some one
in the background to ease him of the fame of his best.... Indeed,
if mankind were to be influenced by those _Qui tam_ critics...
Aristotle must refund to one Ocellus Lucanus, Virgil must make a
_cessio bonorum_ in favor of Pisander, the Metamorphoses of Ovid
must be credited to the account of Parthenius of Nicæa, and
Sheridan... must surrender the glory of having written ‘The School
for Scandal’ to a certain anonymous young lady who died of a
consumption in Thames Street.... Sheridan had, in addition to the
resources of his own wit, a quick apprehension of what suited his
purpose in the wit of others, and a power of enriching whatever he
adopted from them with such new graces as gave him a sort of claim
of paternity over it and made it all his own. ‘_C’est mon_
_bien_,’ said Molière, when accused of borrowing, ‘_et je le
reprens partout où je le trouve_.’”
THE “TRICK” AS APPLIED.
“Plagiarism,” says The Dictionary, is “the act of appropriating _the
ideas_ or the language of another and passing them for one’s [_sic!_]
own; literary theft.” It would not be very difficult, testing Belasco’s
plays by that definition, and excluding all other considerations, to
invest the charge of plagiarism against him, in some instances, with
validity. The last part of “Hearts of Oak” is borrowed from Leslie’s
“The Mariner’s Compass”; “La Belle Russe” is based on situations taken
from “Forget Me Not” and “The New Magdalen”; the thrilling situation in
the Third Act of “The Girl I Left Behind Me” is based on a similar
situation in Boucicault’s “Jessie Brown; or, the Relief of Lucknow”; the
agonizing situation in the Third Act of “The Darling of the Gods,” in
which a military despot extorts information from a woman by forcing her
to gaze on her lover subjected to torture, is derived (and bettered)
from Sardou’s “La Tosca.” Other instances of similarity could be
specified. It would, however, be a manifest injustice to stigmatize
Belasco, _and only Belasco_, as a plagiarist on the
[Illustration:
Photograph by Count Jean de Strelecki. Belasco’s Collection.
“THE STUDENT”--DAVID BELASCO]
ground of his indebtedness to plays earlier than his. He has done only
what all other dramatists have done since the beginning of the craft;
that is, he has based _some_ of his plays on dramatic expedients and
situations that have long been considered to be common property.
AN ANCIENT USAGE.
Several of Shakespeare’s plays were based by him on plays of earlier
date, by other authors. Dryden borrowed freely from Spanish plays and
sometimes from Corneille and Molière,--a fact which caused Scott to
remark (Preface to “The Assignation”) that “originality consists in the
mode of treating a subject more than in the subject itself.” English
dramatists, from Wycherly onward, have freely borrowed from Molière.
Fielding, there is reason to believe, derived an occasional hint from
the great Frenchman, as also from Thomas Murphy. Goldsmith was a little
indebted to Wycherly. Hoadley borrowed from Farquhar; Steele from
Bickerstaff; Colman from Murphy; Sheridan from both Wycherly and
Congreve, and perhaps from his mother’s play of “The Discovery” and her
novel of “Sydney Biddulph”; Boucicault from many French sources and some
English ones. I would not be understood as approving or defending that
practice in dramatic authorship: on the contrary, in the whole course
of my long service as a dramatic critic and historian I have condemned
it. These words, written by me many years ago, relative to Boucicault,
indicate my view of _the practice_:
Dramatic authorship, indeed, seems to have been regarded by
him,--and by many other playwriters,--as a species by itself,
exempt from obligation to moral law. The bard who should “convey”
Milton’s “Lycidas” or Wordsworth’s great “Ode,” and, after making a
few changes in the text and introducing a few new lines, publish it
as a composition “original” with himself, would be deemed and
designated a literary thief. The dramatist, taking his plots from
any convenient source and rehashing incidents and speeches selected
from old plays, can publish the fabric thus constructed as an
“original drama,” and, so far from being discredited, can obtain
reputation and profit by that proceeding. [“Old Friends,” by W. W.:
1909.]
If the large majority of dramatic authors,--Sophocles, Shakespeare,
Racine, Molière, Sheridan, and the rest, down to the present day,--be
convicted of plagiarism on the ground that they have rehashed old
material, that charge will stand against Belasco. But the dramatist who,
with manifest truth, pleads, as Belasco can plead (and as I understand
that he does plead), “a well-known, universal, recognized custom”
cannot, justly, be singled out and stigmatized for plagiarism,--any more
than a respectable Turk, resident in Constantinople, with four wives,
can be singled out and stigmatized for bigamy. I no more approve the
custom of what I call “playwrighting” than I approve or advocate
polygamy,--but I speak for justice. Moreover, it is essential to be
remembered that the number of basic situations, in fiction as in fact,
is limited, and consideration of _the method_ of combining and treating
them must vitally affect the question of “originality.” To make an
avowed adaptation of the work of another, or, with credit, to base a
passage on suggestion derived from an incident in the work of another is
not plagiarism.
The fair investigator of the charge of plagiarism against Belasco will
find that it is twofold: it accuses him of appropriation from the works
of other writers precedent to him, and of appropriation from other
writers contemporary with him to whose writings he has had, or, as
alleged, may have had, access.
CHARLES READE ON PLAGIARISM.
In considering the first part of the accusation I would recommend all
inquirers to read the masterly exposition of the subject of Plagiarism
made by Charles Reade (himself one of the successful writers frequently,
in his day, accused of the offence), which is printed, in his collected
Works, as an appendix to his capital story of “The Wandering Heir,”--a
story first made public in dramatic form. That exposition is too long to
be quoted here in full, but the appended extract from it, which deals
with what Reade calls “the mere intellectual detraction” involved in the
charge that he had stolen “The Wandering Heir” from Dean Swift’s “The
Journal of a Modern Lady,” is illuminative:
“It [‘the mere intellectual detraction’] is founded on two
things--1. The sham-sample swindle, which I have defined. 2. On a
pardonable blunder.
“The blunder is one into which many criticasters of my day have
fallen; but a critic knows there is a vital distinction between
taking ideas from a _homogeneous_ source and from a _heterogeneous_
source, and that only the first mentioned of these two acts is
plagiarism; the latter is more like jewel-setting. Call it what you
will, it is not plagiarism.
“I will take the fraud and the blunder in order and illustrate them
by a few examples, out of thousands.
“By the identical process Pseudonymuncle has used to entrap your
readers into believing ‘The Wandering Heir’ a mere plagiarism from
Swift, one could juggle those who read quotations, not books, into
believing:--
“1. That the Old Testament is _full_ of indelicacy.
“2. That the miracles of Jesus Christ are none of them the miracles
of a God, or even of a benevolent man--giving water intoxicating
qualities, when the guests had drunk enough, goodness knows;
cursing a fig-tree; driving pigs to a watery grave. This is how
Voltaire works the sham-sample swindle, and gulls Frenchmen that
let him read the Bible for them.
“3. That Virgil never wrote a line he did not take from Lucretius
or somebody else.
“4. That Milton the poet is _all_ Homer, Euripides, and an Italian
play called ‘Adam in Paradise.’
“5. That Molière is _all_ Plautus and Cyrano de Bergerac, ‘en prend
_tout_ son bien où il le trouve.’
“6. That the same Molière _never_ writes grammatical French.
“7. That Shakespeare is _all_ Plautus, Horace, Holinshed,
Belleforest, and others.
“8. That Corneille had not an idea he did not steal from Spain.
“9. That Scott has not an original incident in all his works.
“10. That five Italian operas are _all_ English and Irish music.
“11. That the overture to ‘Guillaume Tell’ is _all_ composed by
Swiss shepherds.
“12. That ‘Robinson Crusoe’ is a mere theft from Woodes, Rogers,
and Dampier.
“Not one of these is a greater lie, and few of them are as great
lies, as to call ‘The Wandering Heir’ a plagiarism from Swift.
“Now for the blunder. That will be best corrected by putting
examples of jewel-setting and examples of plagiarism cheek by jowl.
“Corneille’s ‘Horace,’ a tragedy founded on a _heterogeneous_
work,--viz., an historical narrative by Livy,--is not a plagiarism.
His ‘Cid,’ taken from a Spanish play, is plagiarism. Shakespeare’s
‘Comedy of Errors’ and Molière’s ‘Avare’ are plagiarisms, both from
Plautus. Shakespeare’s ‘Macbeth,’ taken from a _heterogeneous_
work, a chronicle, is no plagiarism, though he uses a much larger
slice of Holinshed’s dialogue than I have taken from Swift, and
follows his original more closely. The same applies to his
‘Coriolanus.’ This tragedy is not a plagiarism; for Plutarch’s Life
of Coriolanus is a _heterogeneous_ work, and the art with which the
great master uses and versifies _Volumnia’s_ speech, as he got it
from North’s translation of Plutarch, is jewel-setting, not
plagiarism. By the same rule, ‘Robinson Crusoe,’ though Defoe
sticks close to Woodes, Rogers, and Dampier in many particulars of
incident and reflection, is not a plagiarism, being romance founded
on books of fact. The distinction holds good as to single incidents
or short and telling speeches. Scott’s works are literally crammed
with diamonds of incident and rubies of dialogue culled from
_heterogeneous_ works, histories, chronicles, ballads, and oral
traditions. But this is not plagiarism; it is jewel-setting.
Byron’s famous line--
‘The graves of those who cannot die,’
is a plagiarism from another poet, Crabbe; but _Wolsey’s_ famous
distich in Shakespeare’s ‘Henry the Eighth’ is not a plagiarism
from Wolsey; it is an historical jewel set in a _heterogeneous_
work, and set as none but a great inventor ever yet set a
fact-jewel....”
“FOR THE DEFENDANT.”
Examination of Belasco’s plays will reveal that they are, for the
greater part, founded on what Reade designates “_heterogeneous
works_,”--that is, while he has in some instances borrowed or utilized
material long generally regarded as common property, he has gone, far
more, to history and record,--and that his plays contain more original
writing than ninety per cent. of the plays which are customarily acted
on the English-speaking Stage.
Turning from the question of what Belasco may or may not have derived
from elder dramatists, we come to a field in which it is easy to move
with definite, assured steps. The first accusation against him of
plagiarism from a contemporary, as far as I have been able to ascertain,
was made by Albert M. Palmer, on information and belief, in regard to
the play of “The Millionaire’s Daughter,” first produced at the Baldwin
Theatre, San Francisco, May 19, 1879. Palmer had been given to
understand that Belasco, in this play, had infringed Bronson Howard’s
play of “The Banker’s Daughter,” first produced at the Union Square
Theatre, November 30, 1878, and which Maguire had endeavored to secure
for Baldwin’s. He sent his attorney, W. Barnes, to see Belasco’s play of
“The Millionaire’s Daughter,” accompanied by assistants, who took down
as much as possible of the dialogue. After the performance Belasco said
to Maguire: “It is not necessary for Mr. Barnes to try to take down my
dialogue: he has _seen_ the play: tell him he can have a copy of the
manuscript, if he wishes.” Barnes advised Palmer that there was _no
plagiarism_ by Belasco, and there the matter ended.
The second accusation was that of Howard P. Taylor, alleging that
Belasco took material portions of “May Blossom” from “Caprice”: Taylor
would not bring that charge into court, though Belasco invited him to do
so; and Harrison Grey Fiske, the editor of “The Dramatic Mirror,” the
publication in which the false accusation had been repeatedly made,
publicly declared it to be unwarranted.
Beyond these, I have been furnished by my friend Judge A. G.
Dittenhoefer (acting with Belasco’s permission) with a list showing that
six distinct, formal charges of plagiarism have been made against
Belasco and redress sought by legal action for injury thus alleged to
have been done by him. The plays as to which these charges have been
made are (1) “The Wife”; (2) “Du Barry”; (3) “Sweet Kitty Bellairs”; (4)
“The Woman”; (5) “The Case of Becky”; (6) “The Boomerang.”
In the first of these cases suit was instituted, in 1888, by Fannie
Aymar Matthews, against David Belasco and Henry C. De Mille, praying for
an
[Illustration: DAVID BELASCO
Photograph by the Misses Selby. Author’s Collection.
]
injunction to restrain the further presentation of their play of “The
Wife,” on the ground that it was a plagiarism of her play entitled
“Washington Life.” The action was tried before the Hon. Miles Beach,
Justice of the Supreme Court of New York. Judge Beach decided in favor
of Belasco and De Mille, finding that there was no infringement, _no
plagiarism_.
The second case was an action brought by the French writer M. Richepin,
January 25, 1902, in which he demanded an accounting for the receipts
from representation of Belasco’s play of “Du Barry,” on the ground that
it was, in fact, a play written by the Plaintiff. M. Richepin would not
bring this case to trial, and it was finally discontinued, in January,
1908.
In the third case Grace B. Hughes (otherwise known as Mary Montagu)
began an action, in the Circuit Court of the United States for the
Southern District of New York, February 3, 1904, against Belasco,
Maurice Campbell, and Henrietta Crosman. The action was brought to
restrain further representation of Belasco’s play of “Sweet Kitty
Bellairs,” on the ground that it was, in fact, an infringement of the
Plaintiff’s play of “Sweet Jasmine.” Motion for an injunction was argued
before Judge Lacombe, on March 18, 1904, and on March 26 it was denied,
Judge Lacombe holding that there was _no plagiarism_. The case was never
brought to trial, and it was stricken from the calendar, on March 3,
1913.
The fourth case (which is dealt with in detail, page 336, _et seq._) was
the action brought against Belasco and William C. De Mille by Abraham
Goldknopf, in February, 1912, in the United States District Court for
the Southern District of New York, praying for an injunction to restrain
the further representation of their play of “The Woman” on the ground
that it was, in fact, an infringement of Goldknopf’s play of “Tainted
Philanthropy.” Judge Holt, before whom the case was tried, held that
there was no infringement by Belasco and De Mille, _no plagiarism_, and
on March 3, 1913, final judgment was entered dismissing the Plaintiff’s
complaint, upon the merits.
In June, 1912, the fifth action against Belasco was brought by Amelia
Bachman and George L. McKay, seeking to restrain him from further
presentation of “The Case of Becky,” on the ground that it was, in fact,
a plagiarism of their play entitled “Etelle.” Trial of this action was
begun May 13, 1913, before Judge Julius M. Mayer, of the United States
District Court, and was concluded the next day. On July 9, 1913, Judge
Mayer rendered his decision, holding that there was _no plagiarism_ by
Belasco, and dismissed the Plaintiffs’ complaint, upon the merits.
The sixth case was an action begun on January 14, 1916, by Lila Longson,
to restrain Belasco, Winchell Smith, and Victor Mapes from further
presentation of their play of “The Boomerang,” upon the ground that it
was an infringement of her play of “The Choice.” The case was tried in
the District Court of the United States for the Southern District of New
York, on September 19-21, and, at the close of the trial, Judge W. B.
Sheppard held that there was no infringement and dismissed the
complaint. Final judgment, dismissing the complaint upon the merits, was
entered September 25, 1916.
In all these cases only one judgment in favor of Belasco was
appealed,--that by Judge Mayer, in the action by Amelia Bachman and
George L. McKay, _in re_ “The Case of Becky.” Their appeal was taken to
the United States Circuit Court of Appeals for the Second Circuit and
was argued April 6, 1914. On May 12, following, the Circuit Court of
Appeals handed down its decision in favor of Belasco, affirming Judge
Mayer’s decision dismissing the complaint. The opinion of the Court was
written by Judge E. Henry Lacombe, and can be found in 224 Fed. Rep.,
page 817.
The significance of this summary of _facts_ is obvious. Belasco has
been, and is, freely accused of literary theft,--but on each and every
occasion when accusation has been made and investigated in Court he has
defeated his defamers and been completely vindicated.
CONCERNING BENEFITS--REMEMBERED AND FORGOT.
While Belasco, in common with the generality of dramatic authors, has
certainly profited by the example and sometimes by the labor of others
(a fact which he does not seek to conceal or deny, but which, on the
contrary, he has freely and fairly recognized and admitted), there is a
_per contra_ aspect of his relation to other play-writers which none of
his detractors,--and, for that matter, as far as I am aware, none of his
admirers and advocates except myself,--ever mentions,--namely, the
immense and direct advantage and profit derived by other play-writers
_from him_. Nor is that indebtedness confined to makers of plays: as
theatre manager, stage manager, mechanician, success for others if not
always for himself has walked with him, and for scores of persons
connected with the Theatre (many of them void of appreciation) his has
been the touch of a Midas, turning dross to gold and, incidentally,
establishing them in reputation. Among the makers of plays who, first
and last, have greatly profited by his sagacity, skill, and labor are
James A. Herne, Peter Robertson, Bronson Howard (who always handsomely
acknowledged the obligation), William Young, H. H. Boyesen, Henry C. De
Mille, A. C. Gunter, Clay M. Greene, P. M. Potter, Franklyn Fyles,
Charles Simon, Pierre Berton, Charles Klein, Lee Arthur, John Luther
Long, Richard Walton Tully, Miss Pauline Phelps, Miss Marion Short,
William C. De Mille, William J. Hurlbut, Eugene Walter, Avery Hopwood,
Edward J. Locke, Miss Alice Bradley, George Scarborough, and Winchell
Smith.[6] In all the mass of letters addressed to Belasco and examined
by me in preparing this Memoir I have found fitting acknowledgment of
benefits conferred by only two of those persons, aside from
Howard,--Franklyn Fyles and Mr. Scarborough. The latter wrote:
(_George Scarborough to David Belasco._)
“150 Madison Avenue, Tompkinsville,
“Staten Island, February 28, 1916.
“My dear Governor:--
“Just a brief line before the drop falls on poor little ‘Wetona’
[“The Heart of Wetona”] to-morrow night:
“It has been a great honor to sit at your feet the past few
months--to go to school to you. An infinite pleasure, also, to have
seen you work and known you.
“If the play gets over, the great measure of the success will be
yours. If it fails, the fault will be with the material which came
to you.
“Whatever the issue is, I want now to thank you for your many
personal courtesies, for your enthusiasm and your friendship.
Hereafter, when some would-be author ‘hits the ceiling’ at some
change you suggest in his ’script, please have him get me on the
telephone and I will cheerfully tell him how many kinds of a d----
fool he is not to know a master touch and not to appreciate the
Master’s interest.
“May you be preserved to the Theatre for a long, long time.
“Affectionately,
“_George Scarborough._”
The scope and variety of his labor as an author are impressively
signified in the following partial list of his writings:
THE DRAMATIC WORKS OF DAVID BELASCO.
(Note.--The dates given in the following table refer to the years
in which the plays specified _were written_,--and, therefore, in
some instances, they differ from the dates given in Chronology, and
elsewhere, which refer to _presentation_ of the plays.)
JUVENILE EFFORTS.
“Adam and Eve in the Garden of Eden.”
“Aladdin and the Wonderful Lamp.”
Angel in Hell,” “An
Barmaid’s Revenge; or, The Fatal Corkscrew,” “The (burlesque).
Bohemian Girl,” “The (with music).
Bronze Statue,” “The.
Butcher’s Revenge; or, The Seven Buckets of Blood,” “The
(burlesque).
Death of Benedict Arnold,” “The.
Dying Boy’s Last Christmas,” “The.
“East Lynne” (burlesque).
Hanging of Nathan Hale,” “The.
“Jim Black; or, The Regulator’s Revenge” (_his first play_).
Roll of the Drum,” “The (before 1869).
Signing of the Declaration of Independence,” “The.
“Spiritland.”
Trovatore,” “Il (with music from the opera of that name).
WRITTEN BEFORE 1882-’83 (BELASCO’S NEW YORK CAREER BEGAN IN SEPTEMBER,
1882).
Ace of Spades,” “The (1877--or earlier).
“American Born” (based on “British Born”: 1882).
Assommoir,” “L’ (“Drink”: based on Zola’s novel: 1879).
Belle Russe,” “La (1880-’81).
“Bleak House” (from the novel--about July, 1875).
“Capitola” (a version of “The Hidden Hand”: 187[6?]).
“Cherry and Fair Star” (revision of the old spectacle so named:
187--).
“Chums” (1879--see “Hearts of Oak”).
Christmas Night; or, The Convict’s Return,” “The (1877).
Creole,” “The (based on Adolphe Belot’s story, “L’Article 47”:
1879-’80).
Cricket on the Hearth,” “The (from Dickens’ “Christmas Story”:
1877-’78).
Curse of Cain,” “The (with Peter Robertson: 1882).
“David Copperfield” (from the novel--before 1878).
Doll Master,” “The (1874-’75?).
“Dombey & Son” (from the novel--before 1878).
“Dora” (alteration of Charles Reade’s play: 1875).
“Faust” (1877).
Fast Family,” “A (adaptation of Sardou’s “La Famille Benoiton!”:
1879).
Haunted House,” “The (1877).
“Hearts of Oak” (based on “The Mariner’s Compass,” originally
called “Chums”: with James A. Herne: 1879).
Hidden Hand,” “The (from Mrs. Southworth’s book--at least three
different versions: before 1878).
Lone Pine,” “The (187[5?]).
Millionaire’s Daughter,” “The (1879).
Moonlight Marriage,” “The (“The Marriage by Moonlight”: based on
Watts Phillips’ “Camilla’s Husband”: 1879).
New Magdalen,” “The (from Collins’ novel--1874).
“Nicholas Nickleby” (from the novel--before 1879).
[Illustration:
Photograph by Count Jean de Strelecki. Belasco’s Collection.
DAVID BELASCO]
“Not Guilty” (alteration of Watts Phillips’ play of that name:
1878).
Octoroon,” “The (“retouched and altered” version of Boucicault’s
play: 1878).
“Oliver Twist” (version of, from earlier play and the novel--before
1878).
“Olivia” (dramatization of “The Vicar of Wakefield”: 1878).
“Our Mysterious Boarding House” (1877).
“Paul Arniff” (based in part on “The Black Doctor”: 1880).
Persecuted Traveller,” “The (1877).
Prodigal’s Return,” “The (1877).
Scottish Chiefs,” “The (from the novel--before 1878).
Storm of Thoughts,” “A (1877).
Stranglers of Paris,” “The (based on Adolphe Belot’s story of that
name: 1881: re-written, 1883).
“Struck Blind” (from a story: 1875).
“Sylvia’s Lovers” (1874-’75?).
“Thaddeus of Warsaw” (from the novel--before 1878).
“True to the Core” (alteration of T. P. Cooke’s “prize drama”:
1880).
“Uncle Tom’s Cabin” (at least two dramatizations of the
novel--before 1878).
“Wine, Women and Cards” (1877).
“Within an Inch of His Life” (based on Gaboriau’s story: 1879).
WRITTEN SUBSEQUENT TO 1882-’83.
Auctioneer,” “The (rewritten from a play made at his direction by
Charles Klein and Lee Arthur: 1901: again, 1913).
“Caught in a Corner” (revision of a play by Clay M. Greene--and
others: 1887).
Charity Ball,” “The (with Henry C. De Mille: 1889).
Darling of the Gods,” “The (with John Luther Long: 1901-’02).
“Du Barry” (1900-’01).
Girl I Left Behind Me,” “The (with Franklin Fyles: 1892).
Girl of the Golden West,” “The (1904).
Governor’s Lady,” “The (with Alice Bradley--1911-’12).
Grand Army Man,” “A (with Misses Pauline Phelps and Marion Short:
1906-’07).
Heart of Maryland,” “The (1890-’95).
Highest Bidder,” “The (based on “Trade”--which never was acted--by
Morton and Reese: 1887).
Kaffir Diamond,” “The (revision of play by E. J. Schwartz: 1888).
Lily,” “The (adaptation from “Le Lys” by Pierre Wolff and Gaston
Leroux: 1908-’09).
“Lord Chumley” (with Henry C. De Mille: 1888).
“Madame Butterfly” (based on a story of the same name by John
Luther Long: 1900).
Marquis,” “The (version of Sardou’s “Ferréol”: 1886).
“May Blossom” (based in part on his own play of “Sylvia’s Lovers”:
1882-’83).
“Men and Women” (with Henry C. De Mille: 1890).
“Miss Helyett” (rewritten from the French of Maxime Boucheron:
1891).
Music Master,” “The (altered and revised from play by Charles
Klein: 1903-’04).
“Naughty Anthony” (1899-1900).
“Pawn Ticket 210” (with Clay M. Greene--based on an idea in
Baring-Gould’s novel of “Court Royal”: 1887).
Prince and the Pauper,” “The (revision of a play by Mrs. Abby Sage
Richardson, based on Mark Twain’s novel: 1889-’90).
Return of Peter Grimm,” “The (1908-’10).
Rose of the Rancho,” “The (based on “Juanita,” by Richard Walton
Tully: 1905-’06).
Secret,” “The (adaptation from French of Henri Bernstein: 1913).
“She” (revision of William A. Gillette’s dramatization of Haggard’s
novel--1887).
“Sweet Kitty Bellairs” (based on the novel of “The Bath Comedy,” by
Agnes and Egerton Castle: 1902-’03).
Ugly Duckling,” “The (revision of a play by P. M. Potter: 1890).
“Under the Polar Star” (with Clay M. Greene: 18--: revised, 1896).
“Under Two Flags” (revision of play by P. M. Potter, based on
Ouida’s novel: 1901).
“Van Der Decken” (1913-’15).
“Valerie” (alteration of Sardou’s “Fernande”: 1885-’86).
Wall Street Bandit,” “A (revision of a play by A. C. Gunter: 1886).
Wanderer,” “The (revision of Maurice V. Samuels’ adaptation of
Wilhelm Schmidtbonn’s “Der Verlorene Sohn”: 1916-’17)
“Wife,” “The (with Henry C. De Mille: 1887).
“Younger Son,” “The (adapted from a German play named “Schlimme
Saat”: 1893).
“Zaza” (based on a French play of that name by Pierre Berton and
Charles Simon: 1898).
PLAYS AS YET UNACTED.
“Bubbles.”
“Jennie.”
“Jimsie, the Newsboy.”
Opera Singer,” “The.
“Repka Stroon.”
BELASCO AS A DRAMATIST:--A FRAGMENT.
Careful study of the plays of Belasco has convinced me that, much as he
has accomplished, he has not yet fully developed his powers or fully
expressed himself as a dramatist. There is ample evidence in his
writings that he abundantly possesses the natural faculty of dramatic
expression. That faculty is born--not made. The dramatic mind
comprehends a story not in narrative but in action, sees the characters
which are involved, each as a distinctive individual, perceives their
relations to one another, notes their movements and hears them speak. To
the dramatic mind the spectacle of human life is, essentially, one of
_movement_. But that spectacle is vast, tumultuous, bewildering, not to
be comprehended at once, perhaps not ever to be comprehended fully, and
certainly not to be comprehended without the reinforcement of large
experience and a profound, peaceful meditation. The reader of
Shakespeare feels that the fully developed intellect of that great
dramatist calmly brooded on the world: but there is no Shakespeare now,
and there has been no such thing as tranquillity in the world for many
long years.
Belasco, when he began to write, was a poor boy, imperfectly educated,
in a disorderly environment, subject to all sorts of distractions and
impediments, and throughout the whole of his career he has struggled
onward under the sharp spur of necessity, without leisure or peace. In
scarcely one of his many dramas is it possible to discern an _unforced_
dramatic impulse, spontaneously creative of an exposition of diversified
characters, acting and reacting upon circumstances, in dramatic
situations, and constituting an authentic picture of human nature and
life. In many of those dramas the _existence_ of that impulse is
perceptible, but almost invariably the growth of it is checked and the
sway of it is impeded by the necessity of haste, or of conformity to the
demand of some arbitrary occasion or of deference to the requirement of
some individual actor, or to weariness and dejection. Fine bits of
characterization appear; flashes of fancy frequently irradiate dialogue;
imagination imparts a splendid glow to striking situations,--as in “The
Darling of the Gods” and “The Girl I Left Behind Me,”--and pathos is
often elicited by simple means; but sometimes probability is wrested
from its rightful place, and extravagance of embellishment mingles with
verbosity to cause prolixity and embarrass movement. In a word, a sense
of _effort_, a strenuous urgency for the attainment of violent _effect_,
is largely perceptible in Belasco’s plays,--as, indeed, it is in nearly
the entire bulk of modern American Drama. How could it be otherwise?
“Like children bathing on the shore,
Buried a wave beneath,
Another wave succeeds before
We have had time to breathe.”
Belasco, a good son, affectionate and faithful, ever solicitous to
contribute to the support of his parents and their family, began labor
in childhood, and he has never ceased to labor. At an early age he
married, assuming the duties and incurring the responsibilities of a
husband and a father in harsh surroundings. In about twenty-five years,
working as factotum, secretary, teacher, agent, mechanical inventor,
actor, stage manager, theatre manager, and playwriter, and battling
against a powerful, unscrupulous, malignantly hostile commercial
antagonism, he raised himself from poverty-ridden obscurity to
independence, general public esteem, and international celebrity as a
theatrical leader. Throughout the ensuing fifteen years he increased his
eminence, becoming at last the representative theatrical manager of our
day [meaning, here, about 1902 to the present, 1917] in America. He has
adapted or rewritten more than 200-odd plays, has collaborated with
other writers in making twenty-odd new ones, and is himself the sole
author of about thirty more, most of which have been acted but several
of which have not. The wonder is not that his writings exhibit some
defects, but that, at their best, they contain so much truthful
portrayal of character, pictorial reflection of life, fine dramatic
situation, and compelling power to thrill the imagination and touch the
heart. The time, it seems to me, has not yet come for attempting a
comprehensive and final estimate of his faculty and achievement as a
dramatist. Whether as an author or a character, he presents a singular,
elusive, and perplexing study. The constitution of his mind, I have
often thought, shows a striking resemblance to that of the romantic and
copiously inventive old English novelist William Harrison Ainsworth. The
same prodigal vitality, the same intensity of interest, the same
audacious recklessness of probability, the same facility of graphic
characterization, the same exuberance of detail, and above all the same
wild romanticism peculiar to Ainsworth’s novels are perceptible in
Belasco’s plays. The imagination that conceived “Adrea” might well have
conceived “The Lancashire Witches” or the first book of “Jack Sheppard.”
But Belasco is not merely an imitator. He has pursued a course natural
to himself, and he has created much in Drama that is both original and
beautiful. If he had written nothing but “The Girl of the Golden West”
and “The Return of Peter Grimm” his name would live as that of one of
the best dramatists who have arisen in America.
[Written May 18, 1917. Given to me by my father with instruction to
mark it, when setting it for him:
ADD, AND REVISE.
The last phase of his illness began on May 24, and he never saw
this passage after he wrote it as it stands.--J. W.]
THE GOLDKNOPF TRIAL--A UNIQUE DEMONSTRATION.
The trial of the Goldknopf action against Belasco, based on the pretence
that “The Woman” was plagiarized from “Tainted Philanthropy; or, The
Spirit of the Time,” was begun, July 31, 1912, with a hearing before
Commissioner Gilchrist, at
[Illustration:
DAVID BELASCO
From a photograph by Arnold Genthe.
Author’s Collection.
]
the Federal building, New York, and it proceeded, the Hon. George C.
Holt, Justice, presiding, in the United States Circuit Court, on August
5. It was established by sworn testimony that Goldknopf’s “play” was
submitted by him to the Belasco Play Bureau in May, 1910, and that under
date of July 10 Mr. Henry Stillman, the play reader of that bureau,
wrote to Goldknopf a letter in which he said:
“Mr. Belasco has gone away for the summer. I sent your play to him,
two or three days after reading it myself. He returned it to me
to-day. While he was interested in reading it, it is not quite
adapted to his present requirements. Will you please call for the
manuscript?”
Mr. William C. De Mille testified that after the production of “The
Warrens of Virginia,” in January, 1908, he had suggested to Belasco that
if they could “throw up a good heart story against the general
background of political ‘graft’ it would make a good play”; that Belasco
had been favorably impressed by the suggestion, and that a contract had
been entered into between them, in that year, for the writing of such a
play,--several drafts of which, bearing different titles (“The Princess
of the Wire,” “The Machine,” “1035, Plaza,” etc.), were made before the
final one was put into rehearsal. It also was established that Mr. De
Mille had read his play to friends,--among them Professor John Erskine,
of Columbia University,--in 1908.
Belasco corroborated Mr. De Mille; specified that he had instructed Mr.
Stillman “to be kind to aspiring dramatists,” which fact he surmised
“might account for the courteous tone of his note to” Goldknopf;
testified that he had never seen the manuscript of “Tainted
Philanthrophy” prior to July 31, 1912, and had _not even heard of it_
until the suit was started. Then, becoming exasperated, he exclaimed: “I
am heartily sick of being sued by nurserymaids, waiters, and barbers
every time I bring out a new piece, and I should like very much to give
a performance of both these plays before your Honor, in the fall.” To
this startling proposal Judge Holt assented, remarking that he could
doubtless have the merits of the case better placed before him by
witnessing both the plays in representation than by merely reading
them,--adding: “But it will be very expensive for you to have the case
decided in this way, will it not?” To this inquiry Belasco replied:
“Yes, sir; it will cost me about $5,000, but I want to show these
unknown authors, once and for all, that they cannot come into the courts
and attack every successful production I make without submitting their
plays to a comparison that will dispose of their claims very quickly.”
On Belasco engaging himself to provide as good a cast for “Tainted
Philanthropy” as that with which he was presenting “The Woman,” his
proposal was accepted by counsel for Goldknopf.
The comparative performances were given, November 26, at the Belasco
Theatre, in the presence of Judge Holt and invited audiences--Belasco
desiring that as many journalists and members of his own profession as
possible might see for themselves the shameful injustice to which he was
subjected by the charge of plagiarism. “The Woman,” which was then
filling an engagement at the Grand Opera House, New York, was acted
first, beginning at eleven o’clock in the morning. After an interval of
an hour “Tainted Philanthropy” was presented, “exactly as
written,”--manuscript copies of both plays having been submitted to the
court in order to make impossible any dispute on grounds of alleged
changes during representation. The Goldknopf fabrication proved to be
the veriest farrago of impalliable trash,--and, as it was performed with
absolute sincerity by conscientious and capable actors, it became
ludicrous in the extreme. On November 29, Judge Holt rendered his
decision, finding, necessarily, that there is _no plagiarism_ from
“Tainted Philanthropy” in “The Woman.” The chief parts in the former
were cast thus:
_Mrs. Elizabeth Dalton_ Teresa Maxwell-Conover.
_Grace Dalton_ Helen Freeman.
_Theodore Thompson_ Milton Sills.
_Jack Bud_ Joseph Kilgour.
_John Watts_ Albert Bruning.
_Harold Dalton_ Eugene O’Brien.
_A Bellevue Doctor_ Harry C. Browne.
_Attendants_ { James Grove.
{ Mark Powers.
_Servant_ Judith Snaith.
The following letter on the subject of the Goldknopf accusations gave
Belasco much satisfaction:
(_The Society of American Dramatists and Composers to David Belasco._)
“New York, November 27, 1912.
“Dear Mr. Belasco:--
“At a special meeting of the Board of Directors of The Society of
American Dramatists, held immediately after witnessing the
performances of ‘The Woman’ and ‘Tainted Philanthropy,’ a
resolution was passed congratulating and thanking you for your
splendid work in behalf of the dramatists of America in having
called the attention of the public and the press to the efforts of
irresponsible writers and lawyers against authors and producers of
successful plays. We are of the opinion that these ‘strike’ suits,
having no basis or ground for legal action, are a great hardship
to the professional dramatist, and [that] the attention of the Bar
Association should be called to this particular suit as an
aggravated instance of sharp practice and unwarranted attack on the
dramatist’s name and pocket.
“Yours most sincerely,
“CHARLES KLEIN,
“Secretary.”
In his decision Judge Holt said:
“This suit is to restrain the [alleged] infringement of a
copyright.... Both pieces have been presented by experienced and
skilful actors, with excellent scenery and stage appointments. I
have carefully read the manuscripts of each play and have seen the
representations of them.... In my opinion the proof _wholly fails_
to establish the charge. There is _nothing_ to prove, _or to
suggest_, such a comparison of the two plays--that ‘The Woman’ was
copied from ‘Tainted Philanthropy,’ or that any part of the one was
taken from any part of the other. There is _nothing_ to indicate
that either the words, the ideas, or the plot of the defendant’s
play were suggested by complainant’s play. The two plays, in my
opinion, are wholly dissimilar, and I see _no ground whatever_ for
the charge that one infringed the copyright of the other in any
particular. There should be a decree for the defendants, dismissing
the bill on the merits, with costs.”
Final judgment to that effect was entered March 3, 1913. Belasco’s
unique demonstration of the shameful injustice of the Goldknopf charge,
however, cost him $5,700. Writing on the subject of this suit and of
the performances offered in evidence in it, he has said:
“A lawsuit charging plagiarism is an expensive affair, even though
the accused manager may win. Because of this, a compromise is
frequently effected. There are many unscrupulous people who make a
business of submitting impossible manuscripts in order to bring
suits when a successful play is produced. Others keep long lists of
registered titles, with the same idea in mind. Thousands of dollars
have been paid by American authors and producers to end these
blackmail suits, because they are more cheaply settled out of
court. I have never yielded to this swindle,--and I never will....
My actors played ‘Tainted Philanthropy’ beautifully, and I gave it
a dignified setting. It was a case of ‘Look here, upon this
picture, and on this!’ The audience laughed at ‘Tainted
Philanthropy’ until the theatre echoed.... I think it was the first
instance in the history of American jurisprudence when a judge
adjourned court to go to the theatre for the day, as a matter of
legal duty....
“As a result of this wretched, contemptible suit, and others like
it, I discontinued my Play Bureau, which I had established several
years previously to encourage young American dramatic authors. I
have produced more plays by such authors than any two other
managers, and I wanted to help them further. My Bureau cost me from
$15,000 to $20,000 a year to maintain and never paid me a cent,
though sometimes as many as 100 plays were received through it in a
single day. When I realized that instead of helping young authors
it was merely helping blackmailers to attack me as a plagiarist, I
closed it up.”
A DRAMA OF PSYCHOLOGY.--“THE CASE OF BECKY.”
Belasco produced “The Case of Becky” for the first time, October 30,
1911, at the New National Theatre, Washington, D. C., but it was not
until October 1, 1912, that, at the Belasco Theatre, the piece was first
made known in the metropolis. It is a psychological “study,” in dramatic
form, based on a play by Edward Locke, entitled “After Many Years.”
Locke (who entered Belasco’s employment to study stage management and
who for a time acted a small part in “The Music Master”) read his play
to Belasco,--who, perceiving in it possibilities of novel and striking
dramatic effect, at once accepted it, with the understanding that it
should be rewritten under his supervision. That stipulation was agreed
to and partially fulfilled,--the rewriting being (as in a great many
other similar instances) done largely by Belasco. The members of the
company which eventually acted in the drama could conclusively testify
to this fact, since much of that labor was performed in their presence,
at rehearsals.
The name finally bestowed upon this piece is “The Case of Becky.” It is
in three acts, requires only two scenic settings, implicates seven
persons, and is an ingenious and interesting play on a painful but
important subject,--namely, disease or disorder affecting human
personality. The chief characters in it are _Dr. Emerson_, an eminent
physician who employs hypnotism in psychiatry; _Professor Balzamo_, an
itinerant and unscrupulous hypnotist of extraordinary power, and a girl
named _Dorothy_. This girl is the victim of a dreadful metempsychosis
and is often mysteriously changed from her normal, lovable
personality,--in which she is sweet-tempered, affectionate, gentle, and
refined,--into a common, mischievous, vindictive hoyden who is
designated as _Becky_. _Dr. Emerson_ is laboring to reëstablish her
permanently in her normal consciousness by means of hypnotism,--an
object which, ultimately, he attains. It is incidentally revealed that
many years earlier _Balzamo_, exercising his hypnotic faculty, has
compelled _Emerson’s_ wife to leave her husband and travel with him, as
a subject for use in brutal and degrading exhibitions of hypnotism.
While in that helpless bondage the daughter, _Dorothy_, has been born
(her psychic disorder being attributable to the prenatal effect of abuse
of her mother) and the miserable woman has died. Chance has installed
_Dorothy_ as a patient in the home of her father, who, while ministering
to her in affliction, does not know her
[Illustration: FRANCES STARR AS _BECKY_, IN “THE CASE OF BECKY”
Photograph by White. Belasco’s Collection.
]
as his child. _Balzamo_, learning the whereabouts of the girl and
desirous of recovering custody of her, in order to utilize her as a
subject, visits _Emerson_ and seeks to reëstablish his control over
_Dorothy_, begun when she was a little child. The _Doctor_ is led to
suspect the originative facts in “the case of _Becky_” which are unknown
to him; a conflict of wits and powers ensues between him and _Balzamo_;
the latter is, by a trick, subdued and thrown into hypnosis,--in which
state he is compelled to confess the truth and is then deprived of his
hypnotic power.
Belasco, writing about this singular play--in which he presented Miss
Frances Starr for more than two years--has recorded:
“I had begun work on the manuscript of my play for Miss Starr
called ‘Jennie’ when I received a letter from Mr. Locke about
‘After Many Years.’... It was rewritten and renamed ‘The Case of
Becky,’ and in the writing of it we were guided by Dr. Morton
Prince’s ‘The Dissociation of a Personality.’ I felt that in a
hypnotic study of this kind I must not resort to the broad
theatricalism of ‘Trilby’ or ‘Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde.’ I was
dealing with a dual personality, and I gave Miss Starr the arduous
task of slipping from innocence into viciousness, in the presence
of an audience, without resorting to any outward trickery. Those
hypnotic scenes were written while the company was rehearsing on
the stage.”
It is interesting to note that the method prescribed for Miss Starr by
Belasco, in acting _Dorothy_ and _Becky_, is the same which Henry Irving
declared should be employed in acting _Jekyll_ and _Hyde_: Irving bought
the English dramatic rights to Stevenson’s story about that dual
character, intending to put his theory about impersonating it into
practice, but he never did so.--This was the cast of “The Case of
Becky”:
_Dr. Emerson_ Albert Bruning.
_Dr. Peters_ Harry C. Browne.
_John Arnold_ Eugene O’Brien.
_Professor Balzamo_ Charles Dalton.
_Thomas_ John P. Brawn.
_Miss Pettingill_ Mary Lawton.
_Dorothy_ (“_Becky_”) Frances Starr.
“I was as much surprised as I was delighted,” said Belasco, “by the
popular success of ‘The Case of Becky,’--which was entirely unexpected.”
His delight was considerably moderated by the prompt appearance of a
couple of discontented playwrighting amateurs, alleging plagiarism.
Their names were Amelia Bachman and George L. McKay; they asserted that
“The Case of Becky” was taken from a drama which they had written,
called “Etelle”; their suit was brought in June, 1912; it was tried,
May 13 and 14, 1913, before Judge Julius M. Mayer, in the United States
Circuit Court, and it was decided against them, “upon the merits,” on
July 9. That decision was appealed, the appeal was argued before the
United States Circuit Court of Appeals, April 6, 1914, and decision in
favor of Belasco was affirmed. In rendering the original decision Judge
Mayer said:
“...The writing of the play by Mr. Locke was the natural outcome
of his interest in themes dealing with hypnotic influence and
multiple personality, and when he was attracted by ‘How One Girl
Lived Four Lives,’ by John Corbin, and [by] Dr. Prince’s book, he
was at work on ‘The Climax,’ a play in which hypnotism or mental
suggestion is the predominant feature.
“I am also satisfied, beyond any doubt, that Mr. Belasco never saw,
read or heard of ‘Etelle’ prior to his acceptance of Locke’s play
and Miss Bachman testified that her play had its foundation in the
idea suggested by John Corbin’s article. That being so, and the
facts found by me being as stated, it follows that complainants
have no case. ‘The Case of Becky’ is, in substantial respects,
different from ‘Etelle.’... It is to be expected that two
playwrights, working independently from a common source, may
develop similarities in their plots, but ‘The Case of Becky’
displays the skill of the experienced playwright in a number of
important particulars and details not found in ‘Etelle.’”
“A GOOD LITTLE DEVIL.”
“_Children of an idle brain,_
_Begot of nothing but vain fantasy._”
“A Good Little Devil” is a fairy fantasy, written in French by Mme.
Edmond Rostand (using the pen name of Rosamonde Gerard) and her son
Maurice Rostand. It was adapted to the American Stage by Austin Strong,
and Belasco produced it, for the first time in this country, December
10, 1912, at the Broad Street Theatre, Philadelphia: January 8, 1913, it
was acted in New York, at the Republic Theatre. An immense amount of
space, first and last, has been filled in the American newspaper press
with sentimental rhapsody about such fabrications as “Peter Pan,” “The
Blue Bird,” and “A Good Little Devil.” They are well enough in their
way, but they possess nothing of authentic importance, whether literary,
poetic, or dramatic, and the success gained by them is due solely to the
interest of children and of those who enjoy the amusements of their
children: “The sports of childhood satisfy the child.”
In “A Good Little Devil” experiences are depicted of a Scotch orphan, a
lad named _Charles MacLance_, who is abused by his aunt, a witch, _Mrs.
MacMiche_; comforted and befriended by fairies; loved by a little blind
girl named _Juliet_, from whom he is separated; saved from evil beings
(_Old Nick, Sr._, and _Old Nick, Jr._); and raised to high social rank,
where he forgets the comrades of his boyhood and is about to wed
unworthily, when he returns to the home of his aunt. There he is visited
by the spirit of his youth; his better nature and his memory of olden
times and friends are awakened, and he returns to the arms of his early
love--whose sight has been restored by the fairies--declaring his
intention to live the life of the affections.
The stage accoutrement in which Belasco presented this fabric of
whimsical extravagance was so beautiful, so full of the poetic feeling
and allurement conspicuously absent from the piece itself, that it
gained and for some time held, and deserved to hold, popular favor: it
was played at the Republic Theatre until May 3, 1913,--152 consecutive
performances being given.
“A Good Little Devil” was presented with the following cast:
_A Poet_ Ernest Lawford.
_Betsy_ Iva Merlin.
_Mrs. MacMiche_ William Norris.
_Charles MacLance_, a Good Little Devil Ernest Truex.
_Old Nick, Sr._ Edward Connelly.
_Old Nick, Jr._ Etienne Girardot.
_Juliet_ Mary Pickford.
_Marian_ Laura Grant.
_Queen Mab_ Wilda Bennett.
_Viviane_ Edna Griffin.
_Morganie_ Lillian Gish.
_Titania_ Claire Burke.
_Dewbright_ Reggie Wallace.
_Thought-From-Afar_ Georgia Mae Fursman.
_Jock_ Louis Esposit.
_Wally_ Gerard Gardner.
_Mac_ Adrian Morgan.
_Tam_ Jerome Fernandez.
_Sandy_ Edward Dolly.
_Allan_ Norman Taurog.
_Neil_ Harold Meyer.
_Jamie_ Carlton Riggs.
_Davie_ David Ross.
_Robert_ Roland Wallace.
_John_ Charles Castner.
_Angus_ Lauren Pullman.
_Huggermunk_ Pat Walshe.
_Muggerhunk_ Sam Goldstein.
_The Solicitor from London_ Dennis Cleugh.
_The Doctor from Inverary_ Joseph A. Wilkes.
_The Lawyer from Oban_ Robert Vivian.
_Rab, the dog_ Arthur Hill.
“THE SECRET.”
“_A secret and villanous contriver._”
“When I produced ‘The Secret,’” writes Belasco, in a biographical note
made for me, “I was told by most of the writers for the [news]papers,
and by many friends, that the principal character in it, _Gabrielle_, is
untrue to life--is _impossible_! Well, all I have to say is:--It is
_not_ impossible. She is very exceptional, no doubt, and morbid; but she
is _true_ to life and I know it, because I have seen and known and had
to deal with exactly such women as _Gabrielle_. They are unpleasant, of
course,--but they are real, a part of the Comedy of Human Life that I
have aimed to show in the Theatre, and that is the reason I produced
‘The Secret,’ notwithstanding much advice against it. I did not expect
financial success.”
When Belasco first heard of “The Secret,”--which, written in French by
Henri Bernstein, was originally produced, in March, 1913, at the Théâtre
Bouffes-Parisiens, in Paris, with Mme. Simone (Mme. Simone Le Bargy) in
the principal part,--Charles Frohman had just relinquished the right of
producing it in America. He was so much impressed by the published
accounts of the plot and of the performance that he went to Paris
(sailing, June 18, 1913, on the Campania, _via_ Fishguard) to see it,
and there, after witnessing several representations of the drama, he
personally arranged with its author for an American production.
“Bernstein,” he writes, “wanted me to have Mme. Simone act _Gabrielle_
in America; but, although she is a fine actress and gave a good
performance, she did not, in my opinion, make the part credible. I could
see nobody for it but little Miss Starr--and Bernstein waived his wishes
and left everything to me. I knew from the first that it was impossible
to make money with the piece in America; but I was determined to do it,
and I did; and I am content, though it cost me $57,000 in order to show
the American public a perfect piece of modern play writing and (as I
think) acting.”
The qualities in Bernstein’s “The Secret” which won Belasco’s profound
admiration are its technical constructive deftness and its cumulative
theatrical effectiveness. While repellent in subject, it is, for stage
purposes, extraordinarily well made. The principal character in it is
_Gabrielle Jannelot_, a wife, young, accomplished, beautiful, admired,
and loved,--apparently a paragon of feminine excellence; in fact, a
personification of malignant jealousy and malicious envy. This charming
female, blessed with everything that should make her contented, cannot
endure the sight of the happiness of others and, while cloaking her
wickedness with an assumption of generosity, gentleness, and goodness
which for years completely deceives her husband and her
[Illustration:
Photograph by the Misses Selby. Author’s Collection.
BELASCO, ABOUT 1914]
friends, she industriously spreads misery all about her. She has
contrived to establish bitter estrangement between her devoted husband
and a dearly loved and loving sister; and, ascertaining that another
sister-in-law, _Henriette Durand_,--who is her closest friend and who
has confided in her,--is beloved by a high-principled, jealous young
man, _Denis Le Guern_, she schemes to wreck their prospective happiness.
The fair _Henriette_ (whose amorous receptivity appears to be
comprehensive) has secretly been the mistress of a profligate man of
fashion, named _Charlie Ponta-Tulli_, to whom she would have been wedded
had not _Gabrielle_ surreptitiously suppressed missives passing between
them and thus caused their intrigue to be ended. Aware of _Guern’s_
jealous disposition and strong preference for early vegetables,
_Gabrielle_ counsels _Henriette_, when he shall formally propose
marriage to her, to make a full confession to him of her relation to
_Ponta-Tulli_,--being confident that _Guern_ will then withdraw his
proposal. This advice _Henriette_ promises to act upon; but, through
fear, she fails to do so, and presently she and _Guern_ are wedded and
for a while dwell in bliss. _Gabrielle_, unable to endure the spectacle
of their felicity, plans to destroy it by contriving to have all the
persons implicated in the action assembled as guests in a country
residence, thus bringing the new-wedded couple into close contact with
the ardent though alienated _Ponta-Tulli_. There the former lover
protests to the distressed _Henriette_ his unchangeable passion, and
there they are surprised together by the suspicious _Guern_ in the
moment when _Tulli_ is demanding her reasons for having broken with him.
A violent wrangle ensues, during which _Gabrielle_, under pretence of
attempting reconciliation, neatly manages to make known the former
illicit relation of _Tulli_ and _Henriette_ to the latter’s husband. In
the passages of bitter recrimination which follow _Tulli_ at last
establishes the fact that he had not wilfully abandoned the charming
_Henriette_, and then (with remarkable dramatic dexterity) the spiteful
treachery of _Gabrielle_ is little by little elicited and “the secret”
of that vicious and contemptible little mischief-maker is finally
revealed when she is forced to confess to her wretched husband all her
years of wicked intrigue and perverse malice. There, dramatically, the
play ends,--where so much of human experience ends, in heartbroken
misery and despair. A superfluous “tag” is, however, provided in which
_Jannelot_ first induces _Guern_ to forgive _Henriette_ and then himself
casts the mantle of indulgence over the sins of _Gabrielle_--the fervid
_Ponta-Tulli_ being left to recede into the dim perspective of Paris,
there to comfort himself as best he may.
The performance of this painful play was, in the main, excellent, Miss
Marguerite Leslie acting the errant _Henriette_ with deep and
sympathetic feeling, and Miss Starr, as _Gabrielle_, giving perhaps the
most completely finished and artistic performance of her
career,--because definite and intelligible in ideal, sustained, fluent,
precise in expression, and entirely plausible in effect. Mr. Frank
Reicher appeared as the excitable and jealous _Guern_ and provided a
significant exhibition of the radically artificial, insincere, and
finical method so common to the Continental European Stage and so much
admired and commended in America for the reason, apparently, that it is
European.--“The Secret” was exquisitely set upon the stage, in scenery
designed by Ernest Gros, and was presented by Belasco with the following
cast:
_Constant Jannelot_ Basil Gill.
_Charlie Ponta-Tutti_ Robert Warwick.
_Denis Le Guern_ Frank Reicher.
_Joseph_ John P. Brawn.
_Gabrielle Jannelot_ Frances Starr.
_Henriette Durand_ Marguerite Leslie.
_Clotilde DeSavageat_ Harriet Otis Dellenbaugh.
_Marie_ Beatrice Reinhardt.
“MARIE-ODILE.”
[Of all the productions which he has made, excepting only that of
“Madame Butterfly,” Belasco feels most pride in that of Edward
Knoblauch’s play entitled “Marie-Odile,”--a work esteemed by him to be
one of great artistic excellence and beauty. It was brought out in
Washington, January 18, and at the Belasco Theatre, New York, January
26, 1915. Through a series of mischances it happened that neither my
father nor I saw that production. Therefore, as critical consideration
of it should not be omitted from this Memoir, I here copy, from “The New
York Evening Post,” the review of the representation written by my
father’s old friend and co-worker John Ranken Towse, now the most
experienced and authoritative writer on the drama connected with the New
York press.--J. W.]
“The ‘Marie-Odile’ of Edward Knoblauch, which was presented for the
first time in the Belasco Theatre last evening, is in many respects
a remarkable play, which would have been still more noteworthy if
it did not slip now and then below the highest level of its ideal.
For the most part, it is sweet, idyllic romance, with an
undercurrent of satirical symbolism and a tincture of somewhat
perilous philosophy, and it is told with delicacy and imagination,
except for occasional touches of rougher realism, which are
unnecessary and inartistic, and have a harsh and jarring effect in
a rarefied and sentimental atmosphere. The object of them--one of
contrast--is obvious and legitimate, but it might have been
attained by less violent methods.
“On the surface, at first, the tale is one for the nursery, but
beneath is deep and earnest purpose, the enforcement of the
distinction between the essential goodness of loving and unselfish
innocence, delighting in service, and the hard and cruel Pharisaism
of a narrow, egoistic bigotry. Presently the parable illustrates
the savagery which perfect innocence may experience at the hands of
arrogant and sophisticated virtue. But a brief outline will most
clearly show the motive of Mr. Knoblauch’s story. The scene is laid
in a convent in France, during the Franco-German conflict of 1870.
_Marie-Odile_, the embodiment of childish innocence, is virtually
the servant of the sisterhood. As an infant she had been found on
the door-step. Now she is serving her novitiate and doing the
domestic work, until ready for the final vows. She is a bright,
affectionate, devout, and indefatigable little creature, who has
never been outside the convent walls, has never seen a man--except
an old priest and a decrepit, half-witted gardener--and is
absolutely ignorant of the world and the ways of life. She has been
taught that babies are the rewards which kindly angels bring from
heaven to deserving mothers. By the _Mother Superior_, a martinet
and zealot, she is persistently bullied. Even her tenderness for
her pet pigeon is accounted a mortal sin, and, by way of spiritual
discipline, she is ordered to tell the gardener to kill it for the
_Mother Superior’s_ table. At this she revolts. Sooner than obey
she hides herself, and is not to be found when the terrible news
arrives that the French have been hopelessly beaten, and that the
_Uhlans_ are at the convent door. The priests and the nuns flee and
_Marie-Odile_ and the old gardener are left behind alone. Soon the
first German, a handsome young corporal, arrives, and
_Marie-Odile_, who has never seen a male figure of such splendor
before, concludes that he is Saint Michael--the convent’s patron
saint--and kneels to him in rapturous worship. Other soldiers come
in, led by a rough sergeant, and are disposed to take liberties,
but are promptly disarmed by her fearlessness, her simplicity, and
her transparent innocence. They even affect to respect the laws of
the _Mother Superior_, which she quotes as paramount. She feeds
them, presides at their table, and holds them in subjection--all
but one or two--by magic of the ignorance that knows no wrong. The
corporal champions her against the advances of his more brutal
fellows, and to him she appeals with the confidence of a child.
When the troops depart the sergeant, learning that the corporal has
never had a love affair of any kind, purposely leaves him behind,
bidding him take advantage of his manifest opportunity.
The _Corporal_, who is not vicious, is so moved by _Marie-Odile’s_
unsuspecting confidence that he resolves not to molest her, but she
begs him so earnestly to remain, and so willingly lets him kiss
her, that he yields to temptation, and the curtain falls upon the
second act as she reposes happily in his arms. The scene is natural
and charming, and the sentiment that of pure, youthful romance. In
the third and last act, after the lapse of a year, the convent has
another tenant. _Marie-Odile_ and the old gardener are no longer
alone. There is an infant, which _Marie-Odile_ accounts for as a
miraculous gift from Heaven. She is conscious of no ill, has
followed unhesitatingly the promptings of nature, and rejoices in
her new possession with boundless exultation. But now the war is
over and the nuns are returning. _Sister Louise_, the
personification of true Christian charity, is the first to enter,
and sorely afflicted is she as she listens to _Marie-Odile’s_
grateful pæans, and thinks of what the _Mother Superior_ will say.
That austere judge is inflexible from the first. Straightway she
orders the amazed but unrepentant young mother from the sacred
precincts, in spite of the protests of _Sister Louise_, who
declares that the true responsibility lay with the sisterhood which
had failed to instruct or guard innocence.
“Simple as the play is in external form, it deals with more than
one difficult and complex problem. Concerning the particular
instance of the heroine--who becomes in Mr. Knoblauch’s sketch a
fresh and delightful ideal of ignorant and untainted
innocence--there need be no question. Like _Haidée_, she flew to
her love like a young bird. She was guiltless, and her story--with
the exceptions hinted at--is told very prettily, with an unaffected
naturalism which is rare, and with many charming little poetic
interludes. Her love episode is handled with notable tact and
fancy, and is an eloquent plea for the sanctity of nature’s own
laws. But obviously it is less ingenuous than _Marie-Odile_ in its
wilful disregard of certain awkward and wholly incontrovertible
facts. The Pharisaism of the _Mother Superior_ is, of course,
utterly indefensible upon any count, but may be set down partly to
the credit of poetic license. Unfortunately, the innocence of love
is not, in the present state of this imperfect world, sufficient to
exempt it from the material penalties of unrestricted freedom. And
the instruction of ignorance is not altogether so simple a matter
as some of our younger social philosophers seem to suppose.
“But in ‘Marie-Odile’ Mr. Knoblauch has produced a work of superior
calibre, and has acquitted himself of a difficult task with
ingenuity and tact. His first act is too much overladen with
(dramatically) trifling details, but the piece acquires strength
and impetus as it proceeds. _Marie-Odile_ is one of the most
credible examples of complete unsophistication that has been put
upon the stage for a long time, and she is admirably impersonated
by Miss Frances Starr. The part does not, it is true, present many
difficulties, but most actresses would have betrayed in it a
self-consciousness of the superfine quality of the innocence which
they were portraying, and this Miss Starr did not do. She did
really suggest the purity of a completely isolated maidenhood. Her
completely natural maternal exultation in the possession of a baby
was really excellent acting. Harriet Otis Dellenbaugh showed warm
womanly feeling as the kindly _Sister Louise_, Jerome Patrick did
very well as the _Corporal_, and Frank Reicher furnished a clever
character bit as the senile old gardener. The setting in the
convent was perfect--a notable specimen of Mr. Belasco’s
handiwork.”
This was the cast of “Marie-Odile”:
_Mother Saint Dominic_, Mother Superior
of the Convent Marie Wainwright.
_Sister Clotilde_ Ada C. Nevil.
_Sister Louise_ Harriet Otis Dellenbaugh.
_Sister Monica_ Alice Martin.
_Sister Anatole_ Sally Williams.
_Sister Angela_ Mildred Dean.
_Sister Cecilia_ Amy Fitzpatrick.
_Sister Joseph_ Mary Green.
_Sister Elizabeth_ Nona Murray.
_Sister Catherine_ Alice Carroll.
_Marie-Odile_, a novice Frances Starr.
[Illustration:
Photograph by White. Belasco’s Collection.
FRANCES STARR AS _MARIE ODILE_]
_Father Fisher_ Edward Donnelly.
_Peter_ Frank Reicher.
_Sergeant Otto Beck_ } { Henry Vogel.
_Corp. Philip Meissner_ } Uhlans { Jerome Patrick.
_Steinhauser_ } in a { Paul Stanley.
_Hartmann_ } Prussian { Alphonse Ethier.
_Horn_ } Regiment. { Edward Waldmann.
_Mittendorf_ } { Charles W. Kaufman.
_Schramm_ } { Robert Robson.
{ Margaret Cadman.
{ Edith King.
_Sisters_ { Dorothy Turner.
{ Edythe Maynard.
{ Madeleine Marshall.
{ Gertrude Wagner.
{ Hugo Schmedes.
_Soldiers_ { August Nelson.
{ Albert Mack.
RECONCILIATION WITH CHARLES FROHMAN--AND JOINT PRESENTMENT OF “A
CELEBRATED CASE.”
The antagonism of Belasco and the Theatrical Syndicate, which he fought
for so many years, naturally led to friction between him and Charles
Frohman,--a person of extraordinary self-conceit, who loved to have
applied to himself the ridiculous designation of “the Napoleon of the
Theatre”; who aspired to be thought the greatest of theatrical managers,
and who, necessarily, felt himself rebuked under the superior talents of
the man with whom, in early years, he had been so closely associated
and who had done so much to make his career possible. In 1903 he had a
personal quarrel with Belasco (about what I do not know), and for twelve
years thereafter they were more or less actively at enmity and treated
each other as strangers. Frohman, however, appears to have possessed
engaging qualities, which endeared him to many of those who knew him
well. Belasco, for example, has assured me that through all the time of
their estrangement he “cherished a great affection for ‘Charlie,’” and
that he is “grateful beyond words that our misunderstanding was cleared
up and our friendship renewed before he sailed away to his death.”
Frohman left New York on board the steamship Lusitania, May 1, 1915, and
he lost his life, May 7, when, to the eternal infamy of the German
nation, that vessel was sunk off Old Head of Kinsale, Ireland. “I was
alone in my studio, one evening early in 1915,” Belasco has told me,
“and by chance I noticed a newspaper paragraph about Charles Frohman
being ill, at the Hotel Knickerbocker. It set me thinking about our
first meeting so long ago in San Francisco, and of all that followed; of
our first venture in Chicago and of all the years when we worked
together and had rooms side by side, when ‘Charlie’ used to consult me
about everything and I used to read my ‘May Blossom’ to him. As I sat
there thinking it all over I realized that the shadows were beginning
to slant toward the east--and suddenly I decided that if ‘Charlie’
should die without our being reconciled it should not be my fault. I
started to write a little note to him but got no further than ‘Dear
Charlie’ when my telephone-bell rang. The caller was Roeder--and the
first thing he said was: ‘I’ve just had a telephone message from Charles
Frohman. He wants to see you’! We met that night, in his rooms, and
forgot that we ever had a disagreement.”
Soon after that reconciliation Belasco held a little festival in honor
of Frohman, in his theatre-studio, and there, at first in jest, it was
proposed that they should make a joint revival of some notably
successful play of earlier days. This proposal led to a serious
discussion and eventually to an agreement whereby the two managers
covenanted to make a joint production every season during a term of
years. At Frohman’s request Belasco agreed to choose the first play to
be presented by them, and his election fell upon “A Celebrated Case.”
That play (first produced in America at the Union Square Theatre, New
York, January 23, 1878) is a melodrama in six acts, translated, in rough
English, from the French of Adolphe D’Ennery (1811-1899) and Eugène
Cormon (18--- 18--). It presents the image of a murder which was done in
France, on the eve of the Battle of Fontenoy (May 11, 1745), and for
which an innocent man was made to suffer years of cruel punishment,
till, at last, in a mysterious and circuitous way, it was brought home
to its perpetrator. The circumstances of the crime are peculiarly
hideous and the circumstances of the belated retribution are peculiarly
complex. The innocent man, _Jean Renaud_, is condemned, for the murder
of his wife, on the testimony of their child. _Lazare_, the guilty man
(as in many other fictions on this antiquated pattern), assumes the
identity of another person connected with the crime, the _Count de
Mornay_, and, after various escapes from exposure and much suspense, he
is baffled in his maintenance of the assumed identity and is brought to
justice. The parting of the condemned father with his innocent,
prattling child, who has unconsciously convicted him of murder, and
their meeting in after years, he a wretched galley-slave and she a young
woman, afford a poignantly affecting contrast. Adroit use, likewise, is
made of a certain singular jewel as the instrument for discovery of the
actual criminal. Although there are no remarkable characters in the
piece and nothing extraordinary in its dialogue, it possesses
substantial dramatic merit in its occasional scenes of acute agony,
relieved by the violent action of natures taxed beyond endurance. Its
sentiment, moreover,--that of filial affection,--is pure; and in its
complication of the lives and the emotional troubles of two young girls
it deals skilfully and tenderly with difficult and lovely themes. Its
choice by Belasco (who had several times directed performances of it in
the days of his youth and in whom predilection for tense situation and
sharp effect is dominant) was a natural one. Affiliated with Frohman, he
presented it in a slightly revised form--some of its dialogue being a
little “modernized”--but substantially unaltered and in picturesque and
rich dress. It was well acted and kindly received. The first performance
of this Belasco-Frohman revival occurred at the Hollis Street Theatre,
Boston, March 28, 1915, and, April 7, they brought it out at the Empire
Theatre, New York. This was the cast:
_Count d’Aubeterre_ Frederic de Belleville.
_Lazare_ } Robert Warwick.
_Count de Mornay_ }
_Chanoinesse_ Elita Proctor Otis.
_Viscount Raoul de Mornay_ Eugene O’Brien.
_Jean Renaud_ Otis Skinner.
_Dennis O’Rourke_ N. C. Goodwin.
_Corporal_ Walter F. Scott.
_Seneschal_ George Allison.
_Captain_ John Warnick.
_Duchess d’Aubeterre_ Minna Gale Haynes.
_Little Adrienne_ Mimi Yvonne.
_Martha_ Beverly Sitgreaves.
_Julia_ Ruth Farnum.
_Madeleine Renaud_ Helen Ware.
_Adrienne Renaud_ Ann Murdock.
_Annette_ Esther Cornell.
_Valentine de Mornay_ Florence Reed.
_Julie_ Marie Sasse.
LENORE ULRIC.--AND “THE HEART OF WETONA.”
Many players of talent and present eminence have been fostered and
developed under Belasco’s management--that being, indeed, one of his
most important services to our Stage. He is an inveterate
theatre-goer,--attending performances everywhere and, sooner or later,
seeing practically everything and everybody visible on the American
Stage. This customary vigilant observance of all activity within his
profession he facetiously describes as “my fishing trips,” and,
conversing with me on the subject, he has remarked: “It is often a long
time between ‘bites,’ but one of the delights of the sport is that you
never know, as the curtain goes up, how soon you may ‘hook a big one.’
Among the biggest I have ever landed is, I believe, little Miss Ulric: I
think she will grow bigger every season she is before the public.”
Miss Lenore Ulric, to whom Belasco thus referred, was born at New Ulm,
Minnesota, July 21, 189--. In childhood she knew the meaning of
hardship, and she has studied and learned in the often harsh school of
experience. Whether or not she will fulfil Belasco’s high expectation
time alone can tell, but one thing about her is certain: she belongs to
a class of which there is urgent need on our Stage,--she is “a born
actress.” She resorted to the dramatic calling not through mere vanity,
the impulse of personal exhibition, or the acquisitive hope of
profit,--motives which actuate a majority of the young women who go upon
the Stage,--but because her natural vocation is acting. As far as known,
no precedent member of her family was ever associated with the Theatre,
and for some time her choice of that calling met with severe paternal
disapproval. Her novitiate was served in various stock companies in
Milwaukee, Grand Rapids, Chicago, and Syracuse. In August, 1913, Miss
Ulric appeared as _Luana_, in “The Bird of Paradise,” under the
management of Mr. Oliver Morosco: she acted that part for two seasons.
In 1914, while playing at the Standard Theatre, New York, she wrote to
Belasco asking him to witness her performance of that part and
expressing the hope that after having done so he might find a place for
her in some one of his companies. “I have long made it a rule,” writes
Belasco, “to comply with such requests from young players whenever it is
possible for me to do so. I well remember how long _I_ pleaded with dear
John McCullough for a hearing before I got it and I know the
discouragement of ‘hope deferred.’ Besides--nobody can make a fairer
proposition than ‘watch my work and, if you think it is good, engage
me.’ But I was extremely busy when I received Miss Ulric’s request and
couldn’t give the time,--so I sent my secretary, Mr. Curry. His report
was so favorable that I felt I must see her at work--so, since I could
not go to her, I had Mr. Roeder bring her to me by making her a
tentative offer of an engagement to act in George Scarborough’s play of
‘The Girl.’ She accepted, of course (she has told me, since, that she
had set her heart on getting with me and would have accepted almost any
offer to do so), and I had my stage manager call a rehearsal. I was not
supposed to attend,--but I slipped into the gallery unknown to anybody
(a little trick I have) and watched her carefully. After twenty minutes
I knew I was watching a very talented and unusual young woman--one who
with opportunity and proper training might do great things. Before the
rehearsal was over I had told Roeder to close the arrangement with her
to play the leading part in ‘The Girl,’ which, afterward, became ‘The
Heart of Wetona.’”
In its original form the scene of that play was “A Middle Western Town”
(Missouri), its five characters were Caucasian, and its story was one of
erring love, deceit, shame, and rescue set in a commonplace rural
environment,--a main purpose of its author being, presumably, to exhibit
a group of conventional persons impelled by violent passion yet
restrained by religious feeling. In that form it received a trial
presentment, June 28, 1915, at Atlantic City, New Jersey, with this
cast:
_In the Prologue._
_David Greer_ William H. Thompson.
_Elizabeth Greer_ Lenore Ulric.
_In the Play._
_Jonathan Wells, D.D_ Arthur Lewis.
_Anthony Wells_ Lowell Sherman.
_The Rev. Frederick Forbes_ John Miltern.
_Elizabeth Greer_ Lenore Ulric.
_David Greer_ William H. Thompson.
“Although its material was undeniably good, I had felt strong doubts
about the piece, from the first, but I gave it a ‘try-out,’ anyway,”
said Belasco. “Then I saw that it would not do as it stood and took it
off, and, at my suggestion and under my supervision, with such
assistance as I could give, Mr. Scarborough rewrote ‘The Girl’ and
eventually we had a real success with it.”
The rewritten play was first acted, January 20, 1916, at Stamford,
Connecticut, under the title of “Oklahoma”; soon after it was called
“The Heart of Wetona,” and under that name it was brought forth,
February 29, at the Lyceum Theatre, New York, where it held the stage
until May 20.
In its definitive form the scene of “The Heart of Wetona” is an Indian
Reservation, in the torrid State of Oklahoma; several of its persons are
aborigines of the Comanche tribe, and,--though its action and incidents
are sometimes arbitrarily directed,--it is a remarkably good melodrama
of a long-familiar kind. Belasco’s purpose in directing the revision was
to provide an effective play for the exploitation of the young actress
whose talents had so favorably impressed him, and that purpose was well
accomplished,--the interest centring continuously in the principal
female part, a girl named _Wetona_, the child of a Comanche chieftain
and a white mother, deceased. This girl, who has been seduced under a
lying promise of marriage by _Anthony Wells_, a visitor to the Indian
Reservation, is chosen as a sort of vestal virgin in ceremonial rites of
the Comanches, and thereupon, in the Tribal House, before her father
and his assembled warriors, though concealing her lover’s identity, she
confesses her transgression. The girl is then subjected to a harrowing
inquisition by the Indians, who desire to find and slay her lover. At
last, unable to endure longer, she agrees to reveal his name on
condition that she first be permitted to warn him of his danger. She
seeks him in the home of his friend _John Hardin_, the Indian Agent on
the Reservation (who secretly loves the girl and desires to make her his
wife), and is followed by her father, _Chief Quannah_, who, finding her
in conference with _Hardin_, furiously accuses him of being the wronger
of his daughter and demands that he instantly marry her--as an
alternative to being instantly slain with her. To save the girl,
himself, and her to him unknown lover, _Hardin_ agrees to do so,
privately assuring _Wetona_ that the marriage shall be one in name but
not in fact, and, a clergyman being conveniently accessible, the wedding
is at once performed. Afterward _Wetona_, collapsing, calls upon the
name of her _Anthony_--thus discovering to her husband her resolutely
guarded secret. Later, _Wells_, ensconced in the home of _Hardin_ and
supposing himself unsuspected and secure, seeks to resume his relation
with _Wetona_, but is repulsed by her until a divorce (to which
_Hardin_ will connive) shall have been obtained and he shall have
fulfilled his promise of marriage. Then the perfidy of _Wells_ is
revealed to _Wetona_ and she revolts from him; _Quannah_ discovers the
truth; _Hardin_, though righteously wrathful against _Wells_, tries to
save him from the vengeance of the Indians (providing him with weapons
and a steed) but fails,--that rascal being shot and killed as he
attempts to ride away in the night,--and the injured, forlorn Indian
girl humbly and thankfully confesses to _Hardin_ her contrition, her
gratitude for his protective generosity, the affection with which he has
inspired her, and her glad willingness to remain with him as his wife.
The ethics of all this will hardly bear scrutiny--but the dramatic
effect of it in representation was undeniable; and, perhaps, where
virtue is, presumably, intended it is to consider too curiously to
consider further. Miss Ulric presented with vigor, skill, simplicity,
sustained continuity of identity, and remarkable force a true, pathetic,
and alluring ideal of unsophisticated girlhood, confiding feminine ardor
and passionate distress, and she gained an auspicious success.--The cast
of “The Heart of Wetona,” as acted at the Lyceum under the management of
Belasco and a corporation called “Charles Frohman, Inc.,” is appended:
[Illustration:
Photograph by Abbe. Belasco’s Collection.
LENORE ULRIC AS _WETONNA_, IN “THE HEART OF WETONNA”]
_Quannah_, Chief of the Comanches William Courtleigh.
_Wetona_ Lenore Ulric.
_John Hardin_ John Miltern.
_David Wells_ Edward L. Snader.
_Anthony Wells_ Lowell Sherman.
_Mary Greer_ Isabel O’Madigan.
_Comanche Jack_ Curtis Cooksey.
_Nauma_ Ethel Benton.
_Nipo_ H. G. Carleton.
_Pasequa_ Langdon West.
_Eagle_ Chief Deer.
VARIOUS PRODUCTIONS--MISCELLANEOUS RECORD: “WHAT’S WRONG.”--“THE
VANISHING BRIDE.”--“THE LOVE THOUGHT.”--“ALIAS.”
During the last five years [that is, the five years preceding April,
1917] Belasco has made productions of various plays which do not require
extended consideration, though they must be specified and briefly
described in this Memoir in order to complete the record of his labors.
Those plays are “The Governor’s Lady,” “Years of Discretion,” “The
Temperamental Journey,” “What’s Wrong,” “The Man Inside,” “The Vanishing
Bride,” “The Phantom Rival,” “The Boomerang,” “The Love Thought,” “Seven
Chances,” “Alias,” “The Little Lady in Blue,” and “The Very Minute.”
Of these, “What’s Wrong,” by Frederick Ballard; “The Love Thought,” by
Henry Irving Dodge; “The Vanishing Bride,” adapted by Sydney Rosenfeld
from a German original called “Tantalus,” by Leo Kastner and Ralph
Tesmar; and “Alias” (based on a story by John A. Moroso and originally
called “The Treadmill”), by Willard Mack, are plays to which Belasco
gave trial productions, and all of which, except “The Vanishing Bride,”
he purposes to present in New York hereafter, when they have been
smoothed and polished and are deemed by him to be ready for metropolitan
presentment. “What’s Wrong” was brought out at the National Theatre,
Washington, D. C., May 4, 1914; “The Vanishing Bride” at Long Branch,
New Jersey, July 27, the same year; “The Love Thought,” at the Parsons
Theatre, Hartford, Connecticut, April 26, 1915; and “Alias,” first under
its original title, at the Apollo Theatre, Atlantic City, May 8, 1916,
then, February 5, 1917, at the Belasco Theatre, Washington. “The
Vanishing Bride” would have been produced in New York soon after its
trial had not Belasco found Mr. Rosenfeld (who is an industrious and
moderately clever writer but flatulent with self-conceit) excessively
fractious and troublesome to deal with. “I had spent $18,000 on that
play,” Belasco has told me, “and I know it could be made a success,
because it has excellent material in it. But life is too short for
disputes with Mr. Sydney Rosenfeld. I am always glad to do my best for
the men and women, writers or actors, who work with me, but I am not
willing to wrangle and fight with them for the privilege of doing so!
Therefore, I preferred to pocket my loss and let the piece go--with my
blessing and the hope that its adapter will find a more satisfactory
producer.”
The casts of the trial productions enumerated are here appended:
CAST OF “WHAT’S WRONG.”
_George H. Smith_ Frederick Burton.
_Perry Dodge_ Richie Ling.
_Eddie_ William Dixon.
_Woodrow_ Percy Helton.
_Heavy_ } { Henry Weaver.
_Bill_ } Farm hands { J. W. Kennedy.
_Red_ } { Russell Simpson.
_Jennie Brown_ Janet Beecher.
_Mrs. Perry Dodge_ Maidel Turner.
_Mrs. Lee-Hugh_, S.P.A.I.H. Louise Sylvester.
_Phoebe Snow_ Dorothy Walters.
_Flossie_ Susanne Willa.
_Agnes_ Grace Vernon.
_Tillie_ Jane Shore.
CAST OF “THE VANISHING BRIDE.”
_Zachary Hollis_ Thomas A. Wise.
_Dick Hollis_ Howard Estabrook.
_Baron Von Berndorff_ Gustav Von Seyffertitz.
_Eric Von Berndorff_ Frank Gillmore.
_Phelim O’Hara_ Denman Maley.
_An Upholsterer_ Conrad Cantzen.
_A Postman_ Lee Metford.
_Letty Von Berndorff_ Janet Beecher.
_Eva_, the bride Ottola Nesmith.
_Eileen O’Hara_ Angela Keir.
_Mrs. Miller_ Margaret Seddon.
_Anna_ Edith Houston.
CAST OF “THE LOVE THOUGHT.”
_Stephen Bennett_ Ramsey Wallace.
_Howard Johnson_ Lowell Sherman.
_Squire Miley_ George Gaston.
_Jake Means_ Hardee Kirkland.
_Dupley Reed_ Henry Forsman.
_George Culligan_ Daniel Moyles.
_Lew Bates_ George Berry.
_Billy_ Edwin Dupont, Jr.
_Anne Gardner_ Janet Beecher.
_Mary Miley_ Isabel O’Madigan.
_Frances Avery_ Katherine Proctor.
_Nellie Avery_ Antoinette Walker.
_Mrs. Means_ Harriet Ross.
_Mrs. Bates_ Lois Frances Clark.
_Mrs. Culligan_ Elizabeth Hunt.
CAST OF “THE TREADMILL”--“ALIAS.”
_Herman Strauss_, “Old Dutch” Willard Mack.
_Warden John Healey_ Edwin Mordant.
_“Biff” Schulte_ Jay Wilson.
_Dan Davis_ E. J. Mack.
_Toby_ Jack Jevne.
_Mrs. John Weldon_ Margaret Moreland.
_Mrs. Franklyn Joyce_ Carmilla Crume.
_Amanda Joyce_ Constance Molineaux.
_Titheradge Joyce_ Francis Joyner.
_Jacob Fralinger_ Arthur Donaldson.
_John Weldon_ William Boyd.
_Oscar Spiegel_ Gus Weinberg.
_Mrs. Mary Gilligan_ Annie Mack Berlein.
_Dick_ Tammany Young.
_Harry_ Cornish Beck.
_Greta_ Ruth Collins.
_Bertha_ Jean Temple.
_Andrews_ Tex Charwate.
“THE GOVERNOR’S LADY.”
Belasco produced “The Governor’s Lady” for the first time, May 1, 1912,
at the Broad Street Theatre, Philadelphia, and, September 9, that year,
at the Republic, he brought it out in New York. It is a drama of
domestic dissension and tribulation sequent on the surrender to
selfishness and vanity of a wilful man who is indicated as being,
notwithstanding his faults and errors, innately kind and good. The name
of him is _Daniel S. Slade_. He has been a miner and poor. Having
acquired riches he has become ambitious and aspires to social and
political eminence; would, in fact, be Governor of the State of
Colorado, wherein he dwells. _Mrs. Slade_, his wife, is an exemplary but
homely and home-keeping person and she cannot adapt herself to the ways
of the rich and fashionable society in which _Slade_ desires to be a
leader. She is, at first, disposed to consider their newborn
incompatibility and her husband’s dissatisfaction as fanciful. But when
_Slade_ intimates that he regards her as a hindrance to his advancement
and signifies that there had better be a formal separation, or a
divorce, between them she is deeply wounded. She agrees, however, to
separate from him, while indignantly repelling his suggestion that he
obtain a divorce. Later she ascertains that he has chosen as her
successor a young, beautiful, and unscrupulous woman who he believes
will be useful in furthering his ambitions and who is willing to abandon
the youth she loves in order to make a better match. _Mrs. Slade_ then
rounds on her discontented spouse and, being thrice armed in the justice
of her quarrel, notwithstanding his wealth and influence, brings upon
him and his prospective consort public odium, confronts and defeats him
in court, and, bringing a counter suit, is granted a divorce from him.
She leaves Denver and goes to New York,--where, two years later,
_Slade_, who has meantime become Governor of Colorado, finds her in one
of Child’s restaurants. The _Governor_ makes known to her that he is
perceptive of the impropriety of his course; that in spite of his
conduct he has always loved the wife who has divorced him, and proposes
that they remarry. This _Mrs. Slade_ declines to do, not, however,
concealing the fact that she still cherishes affection for _Slade_, and
the play ends with his picking her up and carrying her off in his arms,
in quest of a parson, in order to establish her as the _Governor’s
Lady_.
Belasco described this fabric as “a play in three acts and an epilogue
in Child’s,” and it was announced as having been written by Miss Alice
Bradley. During its first performance in New York Mr. Emmett Corrigan
(who impersonated the character of _Slade_) came before the curtain and,
in a brief speech on behalf of Miss Bradley, made known that she
disclaimed credit for anything more than “the central idea” of the play.
Neither that “central idea” (the idea, presumably, of showing the
patient acquiescence of _Mrs. Slade_ suddenly turned into resolute and
triumphant opposition by discovery of the full extent of her husband’s
baseness) nor anything else in the piece is dramatically precious or
extraordinary. Many other “collaborators” with Belasco might, however,
fairly emulate Miss Bradley’s frankness. The construction of “The
Governor’s Lady” is sometimes arbitrary and the characters in it are in
some respects extravagantly drawn--causing more the effect of rough
sketches than that of finished portraits. The dialogue possesses the
merit of suitability to the situations and, in general, of seeming to
arise spontaneously from them. The notable excellence of the production
was its exact fidelity to the surface details of everyday life and the
really remarkable smoothness, harmony, and sincerity with which it was
acted--imparting to much that was crude and improbable an aspect of
veracity.--The play was cast as follows:
_Daniel S. Slade_ Emmett Corrigan.
_Senator Strickland_ William H. Tooker.
_Robert Hayes_ Milton Sills.
_Wesley Merritt_ S. K. Walker.
_Brigham Hunt_ Bert Hyde.
_Ex-Governor Hibbard_ John A. Dewey.
_Colonel George Smith_ Will H. Nicholson.
_John Hart_ Albert Lane.
_Charles Ingram_ Harry B. Wilson.
_William_ Jack Smith.
_Martin_ Frank Hand.
_Jake_ John N. Wheeler.
_A Passerby_ James Singer.
_A Bookworm_ Stuart Walker.
_Jake’s Friend_ Edward Horton.
_A Cashier_ George H. Shelton.
_A Man Behind the Pastry Counter_ Robert J. Lance.
_Waiter No. 7_ John H. McKenna.
_Waiter No. 2_ Harrison Fowler.
_Mary Slade_ Emma Dunn.
_Katherine Strickland_ Gladys Hanson.
_Mrs. Wesley Merritt_ Teresa Maxwell-Conover.
_Susan_ Jane Briggs.
_A Girl of the Streets_ Eloise Murray.
_A Scrubwoman_ Judith Snaith.
“YEARS OF DISCRETION.”
Satirical and amusing use has been made in various works of fiction of
the old, or elderly, parent who behaves in an inappropriately youthful
manner. Charles Mathews built the capital old farce (I wonder if anybody
else ever recalls it now?) of “My Awful Dad!” around that idea: Collins
utilized it when he sketched _Madame Pratolungo’s_ “Evergreen Papa.” It
is one of the expedients of comicality in “Years of Discretion,” a
farcical comedy by Frederick Hatton and Fanny Locke Hatton which Belasco
presented, November 4, 1912, at the Empire Theatre, Syracuse, New York,
and at the Belasco Theatre, New York, on December 12, following. In that
entertaining play a buxom widow of fifty, _Mrs. Farrell Howard_ by name,
growing intolerably weary of a humdrum life, leaves the little rural
town where she resides and repairs to New York,--where, with the aid of
hair dye, tight lacing and a fashionable dressmaker, she puts on the
semblance of a gay young woman and recklessly participates in frivolous
dissipations, fascinating many ardent males and scandalizing her
somewhat sedate and priggish son. At the last she consents to marry one
of her numerous admirers, to whom she is honestly attached. After a
little struggle with vanity and the fear of losing his regard she
confesses to him that, with her, things are not what they seem; that she
is not really a roguish young woman eager for social festivity, but
rather an elderly one who has grown tired of it, who is inclined to be
stout and is extremely uncomfortable by reason of restrictive stays and
tight shoes. She is surprised and delighted when he, in turn, confesses
to rheumatism, years equal to hers, and a strong preference for easy old
slippers instead of dancing pumps. They then agree to abandon a
projected honeymoon trip around the world, to which both of them have
looked forward with dread, and to take their ease sensibly, in the home
surroundings which they prefer.--This was the cast of “Years of
Discretion”:
_Christopher Dallas_ Lyn Harding.
_Michael Doyle_ Bruce McRae.
_John Strong_ Herbert Kelcey.
_Amos Thomas_ Robert McWade, Jr.
_Farrell Howard, Jr._ Grant Mitchell.
_Metz_ E. M. Holland.
_Mrs. Farrell Howard_ Effie Shannon.
_Mrs. Margaret Brinton_ Alice Putnam.
_Anna Merkel_ Mabel Bunyea.
_Lilly Newton_ Ethel Pettit.
_Bessie Newton_ Myrtle Morrison.
“THE TEMPERAMENTAL JOURNEY.”
Leo Ditrichstein adapted “The Temperamental Journey” from a French
original called “Pour Vivre Heureux,” by André Rivoire and Yves Mirande,
and Belasco produced it, for the first time, at the Lyceum Theatre,
Rochester, New York, August 28, 1913, and, September 4, following, for
the first time in New York, at the Belasco Theatre. It is an unusually
clever, sometimes humorous, sometimes bitterly satirical, farce blent
with elements of comedy and constructed around the struggles and
tribulations of a sincere, capable, “temperamental,” and unappreciated
painter named _Jacques Dupont_,--a part that was admirably acted (with
discretion, humor, feeling, and even a touch of passion) by Mr.
Ditrichstein. Notwithstanding the merit of his art _Dupont_ is unable to
sell his paintings. In a moment of despair, having been meanly upbraided
for his ill-fortune by his wife,--a shallow, selfish
hypocrite,--_Dupont_ resolves to destroy himself. He writes a farewell
letter to his wife, which he leaves with his clothes on the shore and,
forgetful of the fact that he is a capital swimmer, flings himself into
the waters of Long Island Sound to drown. The immersion so much
refreshes him that he changes his mind about dying, swims lustily, and,
being hauled on board of a sailing craft, makes a voyage to Halifax.
Upon returning home a fortnight or so later he finds his hypocritical
wife and friends, indulging to the full in “the luxury of woe,” about to
hold funeral services over a dead body which they receive as his; and,
also, he finds that his paintings, previously the objects of contumely,
are selling for high prices,--public interest having been inspired by
the pathetic circumstances of his supposed suicide. After observing from
an unsuspected coign of vantage in their home his hypocritical “widow’s”
ready acceptance of the embraces of one of his “friends,” and after
witnessing with ironic contempt the funeral over what are supposed to be
his remains, _Dupont_ betakes himself to Paris, where he paints many
landscapes. After an interval of three years he returns to America,
representing himself to be a collector of pictures, named _Lenoir_, who
has gathered together a large number of paintings by the defunct
_Dupont_--whose works now sell for enormous sums. He finds his “widow”
married to his former “friend” and the mother of a child by him, and
also he finds that person to be industriously engaged in forging
paintings by _Dupont_. During an auction sale of his works _Dupont_,
stung by manifestations of injustice, sordid meanness, and duplicity,
declares his identity and rebukes those who have wronged and contemned
him. Then, for the sake of the child, he agrees to arrange for a divorce
from his unworthy wife,--signifying his purpose, in due course, to unite
himself in matrimony to a loving young girl who has befriended him in
his earlier afflictions and remained faithful to his memory while
supposing him to be dead.
The opportunity for gibes and railings provided by the successive
postures of circumstance thus indicated are obvious and many. Yet, at
best, the comicality evoked by them is bitter and painful.--“The
Temperamental Journey,” which was much admired and exceptionally
successful, was cast as follows:
_Jacques Dupont_ Leo Ditrichstein.
_Prof. Babcock Roland_ Henry Bergman.
_Vernon Neil_ Frank Connor.
_Billy Shepherd_ Richie Ling.
_Dorval_ Edouard Durand.
_Howard Locke_ Julian Little.
_Carrington McLiss_ Lee Millar.
_Tamburri_ M. Daniel Schatts.
_Roy_ } { Edwin R. Wolfe.
_Max_ } { Earle W. Grant.
_Edna_ } _Prof. Roland’s_ { Carree Clarke.
_Eleanor_ } Pupils. { Anna McNaughton.
_Marjorie_ } { Dorothy Ellis.
_Lina_ } { Annette Tyler.
_Messenger_ William Dixon.
_Delphine_ Isabel Irving.
_Maria_ Josephine Victor.
_Fanny Lamont_ Cora Witherspoon.
_Teresa_ Gertrud Morisini.
_Maid_ Alice Jones.
A REVIVAL OF “THE AUCTIONEER.”
An incident of the theatrical season of 1913-’14 which requires passing
record here is the revival by Belasco of “The Auctioneer,”--a play
which, in all essentials, was original with him and which for this
revival he again revised, making it somewhat more closely-knit and
effective than it was when first he brought forward David Warfield in
it. “The Auctioneer” was acted at the Knickerbocker Theatre, New York,
September 30, 1913, with the following cast:
_Simon Levi_ David Warfield.
_Mrs. Levi_ Mrs. Jennie Moscowitz.
_Mrs. Eagan_ Marie Bates.
_Callahan_ Louis Hendricks.
_Isaac Leavitt_ Harry Lewellyn.
_Mrs. Leavitt_ Helena Philips.
_Meyer Cohen_ Harry Rogers.
_Mrs. Cohen_ Marie Reichardt.
_Mo Fininski_ Frank Nelson.
_Richard Eagan_ George LeGuere.
_Minnie_ Charlotte Leslay.
_Dawkins_ Horace James.
_Customer_ John A. Rice.
_Helga_ Janet Dunbar.
_Miss Manning_ Frances Street.
_Misses Crompton_ { Margaret Johnson.
{ Maud Roland.
_Miss Finch_ Ethel Marie Sasse.
_Mrs. Smith_, a shopper Geraldine de Rohan.
_Policeman_ George Berliner.
_Chestnut Vendor_ Tony Bevan.
_Visitors_ { Watson White.
{ Douglas Farne.
{ Irving Laudeutscher.
{ Frank L. Van Vlissingen.
_Man from Hester Street_ Michael Levine.
_Newsboys_ { Meyer Howard.
{ Jess Kelly.
A MANIAC’S PLAY--“THE MAN INSIDE.”
A singular yet characteristic incident of Belasco’s career was his
production of a play called “The Man Inside,” written by a madman who
had been the central figure in one of the most notorious murder cases in
modern criminal annals,--Roland Burnham Molineux. That poor wretch is
the son of a much respected citizen, General Edward Leslie Molineux, who
gained rank and honorable distinction in the Union Army during the Civil
War. He was arrested, February 7, 1899, charged with the murder of Mrs.
Katherine J. Adams, who died, December 28, 1898, of poisoning by
cyanide of mercury, which she unwittingly swallowed mixed with a
medicine received through the mails and which it was alleged that
Molineux had prepared and sent. His trial began, November 14, 1899,
before Recorder (now Supreme Court Justice) John B. Goff and continued
for fifty-five days, ending, January 7, 1900, with his conviction of
murder in the first degree. On February 16 Recorder Goff sentenced
Molineux to death and he was then taken to the Sing Sing Prison, where,
for many months, he was incarcerated in the “Death House.” His case was
carried to the Court of Appeals and, October 15, 1901, he was granted a
new trial which began, before Justice Lambert, in Part--of the Supreme
Court, October 17, 1902, and ended, November 11, with his acquital,--an
issue which, at the time, was regarded by some persons as a miscarriage
of justice. The second jury which heard all the testimony, however,
found him not guilty and he therefore stands vindicated. Mrs. Adams,
meanwhile, certainly was murdered and the guilt of that crime has never
been legally placed.
Throughout the ordeal of his trials, his condemnation, and his
imprisonment under sentence of death Roland Molineux was sustained by
the unwavering support of his devoted parents--his sturdy old father
resolutely maintaining the son’s innocence and laboring without
remission to establish it. The younger man’s health, however, was
hopelessly undermined by the dreadful strain to which he was subjected
and after his release he became ill and morose. In 1912 his parents
obtained an introduction to Belasco and appealed to him for help. “His
mother said to me,” writes the manager, “‘My boy’s life has been ruined.
His health is gone--he has never been the same since he was released
from prison. He has written a play which he believes will do great good
and he has set his heart on getting it acted. If he is disappointed in
this, on top of all the rest that he has suffered, we fear that he will
die. If his play should be a success it might open a new life to him.
Will you read it and help us, if you can?’ They told me other
things--dreadful and afflicting things some of them, that I need not
repeat. I had been tremendously impressed by General Molineux’s great
fight for his son; I felt a great sympathy and pity for them--and I
consented to read the young man’s play and to do it, if I found it
practicable.
“When the manuscript came to me I found the piece long and crude, but I
saw possibilities in it and I told the parents I would produce it. Their
gratitude was very touching. Soon afterward, I met young Molineux, gave
him several interviews, and went to work to knock his play into shape.
At the beginning everything seemed all right and he accepted my first
cuts and suggestions in a proper spirit and worked hard. But toward the
end, along about August or September [1913], when I put the piece into
rehearsal and began to make extensive changes, he turned sullen and very
ugly. Sometimes, instead of working, he would sit and roll his eyes or
glare at me; and, what was very dreadful, he gave off a horrible,
sickening odor like that of a wild beast. I shall never forget the last
night I ever had him with me. He was furious because of the changes I
was making and I am sure he was going to attack me. Suddenly I stopped
arguing with him and, picking up a heavy walking stick, I said: ‘See
here, Molineux, stop looking at me like that; I’m not afraid of you. If
you had brought me a finished play instead of a lot of words I wouldn’t
have had to change your manuscript. Now, it’s hot and I’m tired, so
we’ll call the whole thing off for to-night and you can go home and
think it over.’ He pulled himself together then and tried to apologize
and say how much he appreciated all I was doing, but I wouldn’t have it
and just showed him out of my studio as quickly as I could--and I took
care _he_ should walk in front, all the way! There wasn’t another soul
in the place, except the night watchman, away down at the stagedoor. I
never let him come near me again.”
When “The Man Inside” had been made ready for production Molineux was
permitted to attend the dress rehearsal in New York, during the first
act of which he was self-contained and quiet. But after the curtain had
been lowered he became so violently excited and created so much
disturbance that Belasco was constrained to order him to be taken out of
the theatre. “It was hard to do, but it had to be done,” he writes; “I
didn’t know whether to go on or drop the whole thing, and I really
expected the man would break out and kill somebody.” Molineux’s
unfortunate family and friends were, however, happily able to intervene
and restrain him and no act of violence was committed. On November 7,
1914, he was placed in the King’s Park State Hospital, Long Island, and
there he is still confined,--hopelessly insane. His brave, devoted old
father, worn out and heart broken, died, June 10, 1915: his mother, a
few months earlier. [Roland B. Molineux died, in the King’s Park State
Hospital for the Insane, on November 2, 1917, of paresis. There is no
doubt that he was a dangerous madman when first Belasco met him.--J.
W.]
_The Man Inside_ of Molineux’s play is, symbolically, Conscience; and
the fundamental idea which it expounds is that Society errs in its
treatment of criminals, because crime cannot be prevented by punishment
but only by an effective appeal to the self-respecting moral nature and
“better self” of the criminal,--who must first be taught to “think
right” before he can be made to _do_ right. Sublime discovery! No
intimation is made as to what method Society ought to employ in
cases--unhappily numerous--of criminals who do not possess any “better
selves” and who cannot by any means, not even the threat of death, be
restrained from crimes which profit them or gratify their ruling
passions. There was, without doubt, an honest altruistic purpose in the
distempered, tortured mind of Molineux,--though, since he did not
possess the power to elucidate it, there is no need to dwell upon the
subject in this place. Belasco, having through kindness undertaken to
produce an ill-digested, “talky” and undramatic play, revised it as well
as possible in the circumstances, making of it a moderately effective
melodrama, dealing with crime and injustice. In that melodrama a
philanthropic young man, who is also an Assistant District Attorney of
the City of New York, resorts to the haunts of criminals in order to
ascertain, if possible, why they persist in crime in spite of efforts
to reclaim them. He there becomes deeply interested in a girl named
_Annie_, the daughter of a desperate forger known as _Red Mike_, and
also he becomes so incensed at the viciousness and cruelty of some
methods employed by the Police Department and officials from the
District Attorney’s Office to insure convictions of accused criminals
that he assists _Annie_ in the theft of a forged check, upon possession
of which the fate of her father depends,--thus himself becoming party to
a crime, and, later, participating in a general bath of “whitewash.” The
First Act of “The Man Inside” passes in an opium den of the New York
“Chinatown”; the Second, in the office of the District Attorney--with
the Tombs Prison visible through the window; the Third, in a squalid
tenement house. Belasco placed the play on the stage in a setting of
extraordinary verisimilitude and caused it to be acted in a well-nigh
perfect manner. It was first produced at the Euclid Avenue Opera House,
Cleveland, Ohio, October 27, 1913, and, November 11, was brought forward
in New York at the Criterion Theatre. Public interest in it, however,
was languid and it did not long survive. This was the original cast:
_Mr. Trainer_ A. Byron Beasley.
_James Poor_ Charles Dalton.
_Richard Gordon_ Milton Sills.
_“Red” Mike_ A. E. Anson.
_“Big” Frank_ Edward H. Robins.
_“Pop” Olds_ John Cope.
_Josh Hayes_ John Miltern.
_Larry_ Joseph Byron Totten.
_“Whispering” Riley_ Lawrence Wood.
_Cafferty_ Erroll Dunbar.
_Clusky_ Jerome Kennedy.
_Wang Lee_ J. J. Chaille.
_Chong Fong_ H. H. McCollum.
_“The Major”_ Herbert Jones.
_Murphy_ Karl Ritter.
_Raleigh_ Charles B. Givan.
_“Frisco” George_ Joseph Barker.
_“Monk” Verdi_ J. A. Esposito.
_Annie_ Helen Freeman.
_Maggie_ Clare Weldon.
_Lizzie_ Gertrude Davis.
BELASCO IN CHINATOWN.
While Belasco was preparing “The Man Inside” for the stage he made
several expeditions into the “Chinatown” of New York, accompanied by
members of his staff and his theatrical company, in order that some of
the ways and denizens of that place--the very prose of the earth--might
be pictured with literal exactitude. On those occasions he and his
companions, including Mr. Gros, the scenic artist, were convoyed and
protected by an eccentric being once well known in the purlieus of vice
and crime, whose disreputable acquaintance he had made by chance and to
whom he had commended himself by kindness. Describing the last of those
insalubrious visits Belasco wrote the following characteristic letter to
the young woman who afterward played the principal female part in his
adaptation of the Molineux play:
(_Belasco to Miss Helen Freeman_.)
“My dear Miss Helen:--
“We went on the postponed, and probably the last, trip into the
‘underworld’ last night. It might have been useful to have had you
see it once more; but, on the whole, I think you have seen enough
for the purpose and am glad you weren’t along. Familiar as I am
with the sights of such places (and far worse, such as I used to
visit in old San Francisco) I found some of it last night rather
shocking. But as I promised to give you an account of this trip I
will write a little description of our adventures--which, perhaps,
you may find suggestive.
“At half-past nine my boys [meaning some members of the technical
staff of the Belasco Theatre and two actors] and I met at the
stagedoor and left for Chinatown, where, by appointment, we met a
very ardent admirer of yours--Mr. ‘Chuck’ Conners, no less! Perhaps
one of the reasons why I like the man is because, in his
unpicturesque, rough, human fashion, he felt and expressed your
sweetness--the quality which will help you so much in this play,
and in all parts. I shall tell you more particularly what he said
about you presently, and if you will translate his primitive
speech into the finer shaded meanings of a cultivated man, I am
sure it will touch your heart as it did mine. But I must get to my
story....
“First we sat in the Chatham Club, and had a few ‘rounds,’--which I
had a hard time to avoid drinking. I don’t know what the others did
with theirs--I was too busy with my own troubles to watch! While
human beings put such stuff inside themselves I can’t wonder at
anything they do. While there, the girls came and did some
‘ragtime’ for us. ‘Chuck,’ I must tell you, was dressed for the
occasion,--‘to kill,’--with a white ’kerchief about his neck and
_one_ shoe polished! The other was a characteristic contrast. We
listened to the same old stories and ‘our hero’ sang the same old
songs. Also, as aforetime, to punctuate his remarks he found it
necessary to _punch_ me in the ribs, and so to-day I find myself
more or less black and blue. The old pianola was set to the wildest
airs, and they had a new one, for our especial benefit, called ‘In
the Harem,’--which is so good that I am going to introduce it in
our play. Do you remember the big, tall girl, with the flat nose
and her poor teeth out? She was still sitting in her corner, more
forlorn than ever, and with her sad ‘lamps’ looking into my very
heart. I gave her another five dollars and told her that if I came
again I should expect to see her wearing a new pair of shoes,--for
her poor toes were peeping out of frayed stockings, through the
impossible boots, and it was all very sad.
“Well, from there we went to the same old opium bungalows and the
same old ‘Chink’ ‘hit the pipe’ for us,--afterward, however, taking
us into a female ‘joint,’ where we saw several regular denizens of
the place. It is all part of the show; but I am glad Conners did
not take us to it when you and the other ladies were along.... One
of the women there had been a belle of Philadelphia: another, a
runaway wife. Gradually, they have slipped down the ladder of shame
and remorse, until their poor, wavering little hands could hold the
rungs no longer, and so they fell into that ‘Slough of Despond,’
with the ‘pipe’ for their favorite companion. I was glad to get
away from it, for it made my heart ache. With infinite
understanding there would be infinite tolerance; and if we knew the
springs of action, the circumstances and environment, of these
poor, stray souls, perhaps we shouldn’t judge them very harshly.
“But to return to my story: ‘Chuck’ was in his element. Never did I
know that such unmentionable slang, such mere depravity of phrase,
could come from human lips, although my experience has been a
varied one! The night you ladies were with us the ‘choicest gems’
of his vernacular were bottled up: last night the cork was
drawn--with a vengeance! And yet, after all (though I’m glad you
did not hear him), it was only words. At heart, the man is kind and
generous, and he lives up to his code closer than many another who
has had every advantage.
“Of course, he asked all about you. He said you were ‘Der real
t’ing,’ ‘der right stuff,’ ‘der whole cheese,’ etc. ‘Next day,’
said he, ‘all der fleet wanted t’ know who der swell little skoit
was. “And,” I sez, “why dat’s der Princess Nicotine!” I sez.’
“He was anxious to know your opinion of him, and so I said that he
had made ‘a great hit’ with you. This pleased him mightily. I then
said that he ‘was tearing every skirt’s heart wide open!’ ‘Stop
dat--stop dat!’ he said; ‘Go ‘way back! She was kidding of yer!’
“We wound up by dining at the Chinese Delmonico’s on tea and rice
and chop suey. Of course, I ordered some, but not daring to eat it
I slipped my plate to ‘Chuck,’ whose chop-sticks soon made short
work of the concoction. He ordered _more_, afterward, and I wish
you could have seen his expression when he had at length reached a
stage of repletion and exclaimed ‘Hully gee! dis is goin’ some! I
wouldn’t change me feed-bag dis minute wif Rockefeller!’...
“We parted with ‘Chuck’ about three in the morning. He escorted us
to the same old car, which was piloted by the same old chauffeur.
As we were leaving he blew me a kiss! ‘Hully gee!’ he said, ‘I
likes youse; an’ don’ yer ferget to tell de little skoit dat she’s
der _real t’ing_!’ We were about to start when he gave a yell that
frightened us and said he had forgotten something. He pulled the
enclosed book from his pocket and, using the chauffeur’s back as a
desk, wrote the inscription on the fly-leaf!...
“The last act will soon be in final shape. Study hard, but don’t
over-do,--and everything will be all right. Good-night and good
luck.
“Faithfully,
“DAVID BELASCO.”
AN ADMONITION TO STAGE ASPIRANTS.
(_Belasco to a Recalcitrant Novice_.)
Another letter which Belasco wrote at about the same period as that
above quoted is characteristic and informative as to his views
concerning the Stage and stage aspirants and can conveniently be placed
here:
“The Belasco Theatre.
My dear Mrs. H.------:--
“It is not an easy task to write what I have to say, but it is time
that it should be written and understood. If I am to do for your
cousin, Miss V------, what I want to do and have hoped to do; if I
am to open the way for her to a career, she must be guided by me;
_my_ influence, not yours nor that of anybody else, must
predominate. The Stage is a harsh master. Real success on it does
not ‘happen’: it is _made_--made of striving and sacrifice and
self-denial and _hard work_.
“What you do is, of course, no concern of mine and I have no wish
to meddle in anybody else’s business, having far more of my own
than I can properly look after. But I have every reason to think
that, if it were not for your influence, I might not have so many
causes to be dissatisfied with Miss V------. At present, my wishes
are not heeded by her. And so that we may all reach an
understanding, I want to say to you that I resent Miss V------‘s
recent conduct; that, in view of the fact that I have taken the
trouble to interest myself in her future as an actress, I resent it
_very much_, and will not any longer tolerate it.
“If I am in some ways a strict master I am always a fair and
considerate one. But,--and please realize this,--in everything
connected with my theatre, from the waterboys in the smoking room
to the ‘star’ on the stage; from the carpets to be laid on the
floors to the plays that are produced, _I am the Master, and my
word is the absolute and final law_.
“Miss V------ is a very young girl, who has seen very little of the
world. She is not only exceptionally talented but pretty,
attractive, and charming. Consequently she is admired by the idlers
who have time to kill in dangling after young women of the
Stage--and nothing better to do. Miss V------ is much sought after
by matrons who are ever on the look-out for pretty girls to attract
men to their dances and their ‘week-end’ visits. Such women care
nothing at all about a girl’s career or whether they ruin it or
not--and they will ruin it, every time, if the girl is weak or
foolish enough to be persuaded. Miss V------ likes this kind of
attention, which is natural, but it won’t do--not if she is to
remain with _me_. No big man or woman has time for frivolities; it
is either one thing or the other: we work and work and rise and
rise; or else we try to flutter through life on butterfly
wings--and then we fall by the wayside.
“Miss V------ has, I am informed, been neglecting her duties at the
theatre. True, at present she has only the minor position of an
understudy; but she should at least be conscientious enough to
attend to its duties. She knows very well that she should keep Mr.
L------ informed of her whereabouts. She has no right, no excuse,
to go anywhere, or to be in any place, where he cannot reach her at
a moment’s notice, by telephone. An understudy is just a reserve
soldier, subject to instant call. If Mr. Dean had been well, of
course he would have attended to this matter of Miss V------‘s
neglect. But as it is, Mr. L------ has too many details to look
after. Her conduct is not fair to him, to say nothing of me, nor
does it show any proper respect for the theatre, for Miss V------
so to ignore her obligations. Last evening, through an
indisposition, Miss------, whom she understudies, was nearly
obliged to remain away. If she had done so, the house would have
been dismissed, and Mr. L------ would have been discharged, through
her negligence. Have you any conception what it would mean to me to
disappoint an audience, _in my theatre_?
“If Miss V------ is to remain under my guidance she must obey _my_
wishes: not yours, or her own, or anybody else’s, but _mine_--at
all times and in everything. If she does not see fit to follow my
advice, I shall reluctantly leave her to her own resources.
Inasmuch as I have made myself responsible for her artistic
success, her mental and physical condition are matters of much
moment to me and I will not have them jeopardized as [they are] by
her present mode of life. Automobile rides, midnight suppers and
dances until daylight are all very well--but they are not conducive
to health. They are a sapping of the vitality which, if she wishes
to succeed, should be reserved for higher things....
“Do you realize that, for months past, I have given two nights a
week to Miss V------,--time and work that no money could buy and no
influence induce me to waste? _I_ realize it! I once refused a
fortune, a theatre in London and an endowment for life, in return
for which I was to give a popular actress what I have given Miss
V------ for nothing, simply because she has great talent and I have
believed in her. And I refused to direct that actress because I
knew she would never sacrifice her society life and pleasures for
her work. Understand, please; _I_ have a reputation to maintain, a
standard to live up to. Sickness, weariness, accident, trouble,
death--the Public does not want and will not take excuses. That is
not what they [it] comes into my theatre for. It comes to see the
best plays I can put on, acted by the best artists I can engage
and train. Miss V------ can be one of these, if she will pay the
price; if, like the women who have made a success of their lives
she can be strong enough to give up everything else, ‘for the love
of the working.’ Miss ------ did, and little Miss ------; otherwise,
they would not be where they are to-day....
If it is your intention for Miss V------ to make her _début_ in
society, with matrimony in view for her, then I suggest that you
and she be frank enough to let me know, so that I may make my plans
accordingly. Matrimony is a career with which _nothing else_ can
compete....
“I have been very lenient and have written at length and explained
myself, because Miss V------ is very young, and because I hold you
more to blame than I do her. But if I am to continue the moulding
of her artistic career it must be with the distinct understanding
that my wishes and my influence shall dominate, in everything.
“If Miss V------ wishes to continue under my direction,--absolute
obedience, application, study, effort, and constant hard work are
the conditions. On the other hand, when you have read this letter
to her, she is at liberty to consider herself released from all
engagements to me if she so desires.
“Yours faithfully,
“DAVID BELASCO.”
“THE PHANTOM RIVAL.”
“The Phantom Rival,” adapted by Leo Ditrichstein from an Austrian
original by Ferenc Molnar, postulates that a woman idealizes the man
whom she first loves and never forgets him; and, by presenting her
extravagant notions about him in a dream and then showing,--in an
individual case,--that he turns out to be a commonplace person, implies
that the ideals founded in youth and cherished by females in after life
are mistakes and absurd. It may be so. It probably is true that all
ideals of human perfection are unsound and even ridiculous. It certainly
is true that the longer we live and the more we see of human nature the
more disappointed we are, in ourselves as well as in others, till we
come at last to believe, as Lockhart wrote:
“That nothing’s new and nothing’s true
And nothing signifies!”
The “visible dream” is an old device of the theatre and a good one. It
was exceedingly well managed in this play--the only blemish, indeed,
being a certain effect of monotony which, being inherent in the dramatic
fabric, was ineradicable in the stage exhibition of it. The principal
persons in this drama, which centres around “the dream,” are an American
woman, _Mrs. Marshall_, and an Austrian, named _Sascha Taticheff_. In
youth they dwelt in the same Brooklyn boarding house. Propinquity had a
usual consequence. The girl, romantic, admired the youth and became fond
of him. The youth was flattered and reciprocated. Then, suddenly, he
went away, called back to his native land, taking a sentimental farewell
and writing a letter filled with ardent vaporings. Years have passed.
The girl has met and loved and married a successful American lawyer;
they dwell together; they would be happy, in a staid, conventional way,
were it not for the preposterous, boorish jealousy of the husband. He
suspects his wife of having had an earlier lover and he tortures himself
and her because of this suspicion, this paltry jealousy of “the phantom
rival” of a youthful attachment. And then, by chance, in a public
restaurant, _Taticheff_ and _Mrs. Marshall_, who is with her husband,
meet again. Scarce able to recall each other, they exchange formal bows.
Having returned to their home _Marshall_ badgers his wife about the
stranger in the restaurant until, exasperated, she admits that she once
knew _Taticheff_ and was fond of him; and, finally, she surrenders to
her husband, who reads it, the farewell letter of her youthful
sweetheart. The sentimental folly of that screed so amuses _Marshall_
that he declares himself cured of his jealousy, speaks of the writer
with contempt, and, laughing heartily, goes out to a business
conference. The wife, incensed by this cavalier attitude toward the
object of her girlhood affection, rereads his perfervid protestations:
then, falling asleep, she has a dream in which her _Sascha_ returns to
her, at a fashionable ball, in, successively, the different characters
suggested by his letter:--first, as an all-conquering military hero;
then as a world-dominating statesman; next as a peerless singer, the
idol of two hemispheres; finally,--after she has been turned out of
doors by an indignant hostess because of the scandal of her conduct with
her multiform lover,--in the guise of a wretched, one-armed
street-beggar, upon whom her husband makes a furious assault, whereupon,
shrieking, she awakes. Then, her husband returning with the actual
_Sascha_ (who proves to be subordinately concerned with the business
which _Marshall_ has in hand), she is left alone with him. The interview
that then occurs between them is much the cleverest passage in the play.
The woman, rather forlornly, tries to discover in the man before her
some trace of the romantic glamour with which she had fancifully
invested him, but finds only a plebeian dullard, stupidly embarrassed,
inveterately selfish and petty, and much interested in her husband’s
brandy. At last, when she is relieved of his tiresome presence, she
drops his long-cherished letters into the fire and joins her husband in
his contemptuous amusement at her sentimental memories and the sorry
figure of his “phantom rival.”--Belasco’s preservation of an unreal,
dream-like atmosphere throughout the dream scenes of this play was
perfect. And, of the kind, nothing so good as the acting of Miss Laura
Hope Crews and Mr. Ditrichstein in the last scene of it has been visible
on our Stage for many years. “The Phantom Rival” was first produced,
September 28, 1914, at Ford’s Opera House, Baltimore: on October 6, it
was presented at the Belasco Theatre, New York. This was the original
cast:
_Sascha Taticheff_ Leo Ditrichstein.
_Frank Marshall_ Malcolm Williams.
_Dover_ Frank Westerton.
_Earle_ Lee Millar.
_Farnald_ John Bedouin.
_Oscar_ John McNamee.
_Waiters_ { Louis Pioselli.
{ Frank E. Morris.
_Louise, Mrs. Marshall_ Laura Hope Crews.
_Mrs. Van Ness_ Lila Barclay.
_Nurse_ Anna McNaughton.
_Maid_ Ethel Marie Sasse.
“THE BOOMERANG.”
It was an opinion of the philosophic Bacon that women “will sooner
follow you by slighting than by too much wooing.” That is an opinion
shared by many and one which observation perceives to be grounded on
fact: _some_ women _will_. It is the basic idea underlying the play by
Messrs. Winchell Smith and Victor Mapes, called “The Boomerang,” which
Belasco produced at his New York theatre, August 10, 1915,--and which,
slender as it is, has proved one of the most richly remunerative of all
his ventures. In that play a youth, _Budd Woodbridge_ by name, loves a
girl, _Grace Tyler_, so unreservedly that she finds him wearisome and is
inclined to repel his devotion and bestow her affections upon another
youth. Young _Woodbridge_ so peaks and pines under his mistress’ disdain
and the pangs of juvenile jealousy that his mother fears that he is
passing into a decline and insists on his consulting a physician. That
physician, _Dr. Gerald Sumner_, finds the young man depressed,
irritable, and in extreme nervous distress. He questions him shrewdly
and soon ascertains the nature of the distemper for which he is desired
to prescribe. He rather cynically undertakes to cure the youth and his
directions are obeyed. His patient is sent home and put to bed; a daily
hypodermic injection is ordered of a mysterious, vivifying serum (in
fact, water), and a young woman nurse, beautiful and peculiarly kind and
sympathetic, is employed to administer the injection and to amuse and
cheer the unhappy sufferer, who is obediently responsive to her angelic
ministration. The capricious _Miss Tyler_, seeing her adorer apparently
succumbing to the fascinations of the lovely nurse and finding herself
rather slighted off, discovers that she cannot live without him and
_Woodbridge’s_ amatory anguish is soon in a fair way to be assuaged. The
relevancy of the title of this farce, “The Boomerang,” is revealed in a
dictionary comment on that implement of Antipodal warfare which declares
that: “in inexperienced hands the boomerang recoils upon the thrower,
sometimes with very serious results.” This is illustrated by the fate of
_Dr. Sumner_, who, having been scornful on the subject of love and
jealousy, becomes violently enamoured of the charming nurse and for a
time suffers much because of her affectionate tendance upon his
patient,--until, at last, he learns that her regard is really fixed upon
himself.
This play was designated as a “comedy,”--and, if Dr. Johnson’s
definition of a comedy as something to make people laugh be accepted,
that definition is plausible. The piece is, in fact, a farce and, in my
judgment, rather a slight one; but it was so exquisitely stage-managed
and so admirably acted that it passed for being something far more
substantial and worthy than, intrinsically, it is. With the view that it
is slight and merely ephemeral Belasco emphatically disagrees. “I
maintain,” he has declared to me, “that ‘The Boomerang’ has a vital
theme, of universal appeal, no matter how much you may ridicule it: I
mean Calf Love. Everybody has had it--and, while it lasts, it’s
terrible. No matter how much we may laugh at the boys and girls
suffering from juvenile love and jealousy, we sympathize with them, too.
That’s why everybody in the country wants to see our little play--why
men and women have stood in line all night (as they have done in many
places) to buy tickets for the performance. I believed in the little
piece from the very first. I wish I knew where to get another as good!”
One of many scores of letters received by Belasco, commendatory of this
play and its exemplary presentment, came from perhaps the most generous
of contemporary patrons of the Theatre and it may appropriately be
quoted here:
(_Otto H. Kahn to David Belasco._)
“52 William Street, New York,
“November 8, 1915.
“Dear Mr. Belasco:--
“I need not tell you that I have frequently and greatly admired
your art and skill, but there are gradations of achievement even in
an acknowledged master and, having just seen your latest
production, ‘The Boomerang,’ I cannot refrain from sending you a
few lines of particularly warm appreciation and congratulation.
Nothing is more difficult in art than to produce great effects with
simple means, to do a simple thing superlatively well. Nothing is
more rare in art than restraint. Nothing is a greater test of the
art of the producer than to maintain throughout an entire evening
the atmosphere, the illusion and the effect of comedy, unaided as
he is by either the stirring incidents of drama or the broad appeal
of farce. Your wisdom in picking out one of the very best and most
genuine comedies that I have seen in many a day, your judgment in
providing an admirable cast, and your skill and art in producing,
have combined to bring about the most happy result, and I owe you
thanks for that rare treat, a wholly delightful evening at the
theatre, unmarred by any jarring note.
“Believe me,
“Very faithfully yours,
“OTTO H. KAHN.”
“The Boomerang” was originally produced at The Playhouse, Wilmington,
Delaware, April 5, 1915. This was the cast:
_Dr. Gerald Sumner_ Arthur Byron.
_Budd Woodbridge_ Wallace Eddinger.
_Preston de Witt_ Gilbert Douglas.
_Heinrich_ Richard Malchien.
_Hartley_ John N. Wheeler.
_Mr. Stone_ John Clements.
_Virginia Xelva_ Martha Hedman.
_Grace Tyler_ Ruth Shepley.
_Marion Sumner_ Josephine Parks.
_Gertrude Ludlow_ Dorothy Megrew.
_Mrs. Creighton Woodbridge_ Ida Waterman.
“SEVEN CHANCES.”
“Odds life, sir! if you have the estate, you must take it with the live
stock on it, as it stands!” exclaims _Sir Anthony Absolute_, in “The
Rivals,” to his son, when mentioning that his proffer of “a noble
independence” is “saddled with a wife.” Such arbitrary bestowal of
wealth contingent on matrimony--frequent in actual experience--is one of
the best established and most respected expedients of comical stage
dilemmas, and it recurs, at intervals, in one form or another, with much
the inevitability of death and taxes. It is the basis of another
entertaining farce, called “Seven Chances,” which Belasco produced at
the George M. Cohan Theatre, New York, August 8, 1916, and which also
enjoyed a long and prosperous career. That farce was built on a
“suggestion” derived from a short story by Mr. Gouverneur Morris,
entitled “The Cradle Snatcher,” and, originally, it was called
“Shannon’s Millions.” It was several times rebuilt, under Belasco’s
supervision,--Mr. Roi Cooper Megrue being the last of his coadjutory
playwrights. It was produced, April 17, 1916, at the Apollo Theatre,
Atlantic City, New Jersey, under the name of “The Lucky Fellow.” Its
comical incidents revolve around _Jimmy Shannon_, an amiable young
bachelor with a vigorous antipathy to matrimony, whose sardonic
grandsire, dying, leaves to him by will a fortune of twelve million
dollars, conditional upon his being married by the time that he is
thirty years old. _Shannon_ is informed of that contingent bequest on
the eve of his attainment of the specified age. He is at a Country Club
where, also, there are seven young women. “The affair cries haste and
speed must answer it.” The impecunious _Shannon_ will propose marriage
to each one of those females, if necessary: thus he has “seven chances”
of obtaining the impendent fortune,--which, at last, he gets, along with
a bride so young and beauteous as to reconcile him to the imposed change
in his state. The opportunities for fun in all this are obvious;
critically to dilate upon them would be much like breaking a butterfly
on the wheel. They were utilized to the full under Belasco’s direction
by a good company,--the parts being cast as follows:
_Jimmie Shannon_ Frank Craven.
_Billy Meekin_ John Butler.
_Earl Goddard_ Hayward Ginn.
_Ralph Denby_ Charles Brokate.
_Joe Spence_ Frank Morgan.
_Henry Garrison_ Harry Leighton.
_George_ Freeman Wood.
_Anne Windsor_ Carroll McComas.
_Mrs. Garrison_ Marion Abbott.
_Lilly Trevor_ Anne Meredith.
_Peggy Wood_ Emily Callaway.
_Irene Trevor_ Beverly West.
_Georgiana Garrison_ Gladys Knorr.
_Florence Jones_ Florence Deshon.
_Betty Brown_ Alice Carroll.
“THE LITTLE LADY IN BLUE”: THE LAST PLAY EVER SEEN BY WILLIAM WINTER.
[The last play ever seen by my father was “The Little Lady in Blue,”
which Belasco produced on October 16, 1916, in Washington, and, on
December 22, at the Belasco Theatre, in New York. It is a very agreeable
piece, with a somewhat trite but expertly handled story. The period of
it is 1820. The scene of it is England. The principal character in it is
named _Anne Churchill_. She is an impoverished little governess who sets
out to be an adventuress. She wins the affection of a wild young naval
officer named _Anthony Addenbrooke_., incidentally rescuing him from the
clutches of a much bepainted Circe of the Portsmouth waterfront. Next
she helps him to meet the conditions under which he will inherit
£60,000, intending to marry him for the sake of that money. Then she
discovers that she really loves him, she is ashamed of her conduct, and
she cannot go through with the part of a mercenary adventuress. She
confesses to _Addenbrooke_ the real origin of her interest in his
affairs and releases him from his engagement to marry her. Being
recognized as an earthly paragon she is not permitted to retire into
indigence but is wedded to her lover, who has gained a lieutenant’s
commission through her assistance and is about to sail away to fight for
King and country.--The piece was written by Messrs. Horace Hodges and T.
Wigney Percyval.
My father was unable to attend the first New York performance of that
play, and his work on this Memoir prevented his seeing it until several
weeks later. In his “Journal” he wrote:
[1917] “February 8. More damnable peace blather!--Belasco kindly
invited us to visit his Theatre and sent his automobile for us, and
‘Willy’ and I went and saw performance of ‘The Little Lady in
Blue,’--a pleasing entertainment.”
Two days afterward Mr. Winter wrote the following letter, which records
his critical views of the production.
--J. W.]
(_William Winter to David Belasco._)
“New Brighton, Staten Island,
“February 10, 1917.
“Dear Belasco:--
“It was indeed a pleasure to see, at your theatre, the play of ‘The
Little Lady in Blue.’ It is long since I have so much enjoyed
anything. The rightly conducted Theatre still remains to me what it
always was--the home of that magic art which cheers the loneliness
of life and opens the portal into an ideal world. Alas, that it is
not more generally conducted for such a purpose! ‘The Little Lady’
can hardly be considered _a play_; but, as you have presented it,
it is a charming entertainment--a whimsical, almost grotesque,
portrayal of eccentric characters and incredible incidents, which
are made to _seem_ real, for the moment by the glamour of the
Stage. Since the plot is so frail, I was all the more surprised and
delighted that so much interest could be excited and sustained and
so much pleasure diffused by the histrionic treatment of a theme so
slender. You have set the play on the stage in an exquisite manner,
and it is acted throughout with a scrupulous care and zeal that, in
recent years, I have seldom seen equalled. It is easy to ridicule
such quaint, fantastic, almost dream-like pieces. As Frederick
Locker wrote:
‘We love the rare old days and rich
That poetry has painted;
We mourn that sacred age with which
We never were acquainted!’
“But they have a potent charm, a sort of mignonette and wild-thyme
fragrance, a power to touch the gentler feelings and soothe the
mind, and so they are precious.
“There is one blemish that should be removed--namely, the character
of _A Girl of Portsmouth Town_: it adds nothing to the situation,
and it is only a blot on the delicacy of the play.
“I am glad to know the production is prosperous: it deserves to
be--and it ought to fill your theatre for months, and I hope it
will.
“With kind regards,
“Faithfully yours,
“WILLIAM WINTER.”
The cast of “The Little Lady in Blue appended:
_Admiral Sir Anthony Addenbrooke_ A. G. Andrews.
_Anthony Addenbrooke_ Jerome Patrick.
_Captain Kent, R. N._ Frederick Graham.
_Joe Porten_ Horace Braham.
_Baron von Loewe_ Carl Sauerman.
_John Speedwell_ Charles Garry.
_Cobbledick_ George Giddens.
_A Waiter_ Adrian H. Rosley.
_A Process Server_ Harry Holiday.
_Landlord of the Portsmouth Inn_ Roland Rushton.
_Anne Churchill_ Frances Starr.
_Miss Quick_ Lucy Beaumont.
_A Girl of Portsmouth Town_ Eleanor Pendleton.
“THE VERY MINUTE”--A MEMORANDUM.
_Memo._--David produced a new play called “The Very Minute” last Monday
night [April 9, 1917], at his N. Y. theatre, with Mr. Arnold Daly in the
principal part. All about bad effects of drinking too much liquor, &c.
Novelty--striking! Good old Towse calls it “a shallow pretence of a
serious play” and says it is a “nightmare.” Commends D. B.’s “meticulous
attention to the material and manner of production.” Also commends A. D.
for “moments of _powerful_ acting.” Well--he was there and I was not;
but how A. D. must have changed! _I_ never saw any more “power” in him
than there is in a pennywhistle. Used to have a sort of _sonsy_ quality
that was pleasing. Competent in a commonplace way: unusual
assurance--great conceit. Knows his business--generally _definite_,
which is a merit. Disagreeable personality. Head turned with vanity. And
nothing really IN him--that ever _I_ could see.
This play written by John Meehan. Young man, said to be related to me by
marriage. I never met him and do not know. Suppose I must see his play
and write about it. Don’t want to! “What, will the line stretch out to
the crack of doom?” Where do they [plays] all come from, I wonder? Hope
David has got another success, but surmise it’s an awful frost,--as
’twere “the very _last_ minute of the hour,” I fear. Wish he would stop
producing plays altogether until after I get through writing this
“Life”!
[“The Very Minute” was first acted at The Playhouse, Wilmington,
Delaware, April 5, 1917: it was “an awful frost,” as my father surmised,
and it was withdrawn on May 7--the Belasco Theatre being then
closed.--J. W.] This was the cast:
_Horace Cramner_ Forrest Robinson.
_Mrs. Cramner_ Marie Wainwright.
_Francis Cramner_ Arnold Daly.
_Kathleen_ Cathleen Nesbitt.
_Philip Cramner_ William Morris.
_Mr. Husner_ John W. Cope.
_Dr. Monticou_ Lester Lonergan.
_Robert_ Robert Vivian.
_Bennett_ Leon E. Brown.
SUMMARY.
[The various passages in the following “Summary” of the character and
career of Belasco were written disjointedly. They are here gathered and
arranged in what appears to be their natural sequence,--as nearly as I
can judge in the order in which Mr. Winter would have placed them. In
two or three instances an unfinished sentence has been completed and
here and there an essential word or two has been inserted or added.
Otherwise the matter stands unrevised: I have not attempted to write
connecting passages.--J. W.]
“_Not fearing death nor shrinking for distress,_
_But always resolute in most extremes._”
--SHAKESPEARE.
The estimate that observation forms of a person still living cannot
always be deemed conclusive: the person can invalidate it, in an
instant, by some sudden action, some unexpected development, some
surprising decadence; and, as a general rule, it should be remembered
that no person is ever completely
[Illustration: DAVID BELASCO
Inscription:
“_To my friend of many years, William Winter._”
From a photograph not before published--by the Misses Selby.
Author’s Collection.
]
comprehended by anybody. We have glimpses of each other; but,
practically, each individual is _alone_. In the most favorable
circumstances, accordingly, no life can be more than approximately
summarized until the record is complete--perhaps not even then. It was
perception of this fact that caused the old grave-digger of Drumtochty
to declare that there is no real comfort in a marriage because nobody
knows how it will turn out; whereas there is no room for solicitude
about a funeral, because, at all events, the play is over. David
Belasco, although he begins to see the shadow of the Psalmist’s
threescore years and ten, is still in the full vigor of life; he is,
indeed, the most powerful, vital influence now [1917] operant in the
English-speaking Theatre,--Herbert Beerbohm-Tree, in London, being his
only competitor,--and (as I hope and believe) is approaching the highest
achievements of his long, varied, and brilliant career, which there is
reason to expect will continue for many years....
Actors, it has been noted, who are actors only, often are remarkably
long-lived. Men who attain eminence in theatrical management,--whether
they be also actors or not,--seldom are so: Sir William Davenant died at
sixty-two; Garrick at sixty-one; John Kemble at sixty-six; Thomas S.
Hamblin at fifty-one; Charles Kean at fifty-seven; Benedict De Bar at
sixty-three; John McCollough at fifty-three; Lester Wallack at
sixty-eight; Lawrence Barrett at fifty-two; Edwin Booth at sixty; John
T. Ford at sixty-five; Augustin Daly at sixty-one; A. M. Palmer at
sixty-seven. Garrick had been three years in retirement when he died;
Kemble, six; Kean, nearly one; Booth, more than two; Palmer, five.
Belasco’s career has already extended over a period of forty-six years
and, excepting Wallack, he is now older than any of those men were when
their professional labors ended,[7]--yet there is in him none of the
dejection of age; none of the despondency of fatigue; no abatement of
his ambitious purpose, resolute enterprise, and amazing energy; no sign
of that forlorn loneliness which often settles on the mind as friends
die, things alter and long familiar environment drifts away, the old
order changing and giving place to new. On the contrary, his health is
excellent, his mind virile, his courage high, his spirit cheerful, and
in every way he shows as indeed “strong in will to strive, to seek, to
find, and not to yield.” It is, therefore, a specially difficult and
dubious task to attempt to make at this time a summary of his character,
life, and labor. But if another of the abrupt and lamentable
bereavements of the Stage which it has so often been my task to
chronicle and estimate should befall at this time; if, suddenly, now,
while all around seems bright and full of life and hope, mortality’s
strong hand should close upon Belasco and I should be required to write
of him as of one whose work was finished and who had “bid the world
good-night,” I should write in these words:
From the beginning and until the end David Belasco was an embodiment of
high ambition, zealous enterprise, resolute endeavor, and patient
endurance. He did not drift into his career--he selected it. His natural
proclivity for the Theatre was irresistible; in youth his aspiration was
to reach a dominant place in that institution; all his early life was
spent in arduous toil to equip himself for the eminence at which he
aimed; through long years, in which he became well acquainted with
bitter strife and grievous disappointment, he never lost hope or
faltered in the purpose which at last he achieved,--supremacy in the
American Theatre. He was a rare and vivid personality; an extraordinary
and many-sided man; the natural successor of Lester Wallack, Edwin
Booth, and Augustin Daly as the leading theatrical manager of America;
and, in the English-speaking world, he was absolutely the last of the
managers who, personally, were important and interesting. His place will
not be filled. It has been said of David Belasco that he was a “posing
and posturing charlatan.” That harsh censure is the tribute of envy to
merit and it is as unjust as it is mean. His nature was impetuous, his
temperament was intensely dramatic, his sensibility was extreme, the
tone of his mind was at times exuberant and florid, and, consequently,
his language and his conduct were sometimes extravagant. He, also,
understood the uses of advertising; he was occasionally over-solicitous
as to public opinion; he possessed a full share of very human, almost
childlike, vanity, and certainly he managed the public as well as the
Theatre. But his devotion to the dramatic calling was true, passionate,
and entire and to it he gave his life: he never desired retirement and
never thought of it. The secret of his success--if any secret there
be--was his inveterate determination, indefatigable labor, and profound
sincerity of purpose. If the public poured great wealth into his hands
(as it did), he never spared wealth, labor, and time--toilsome days and
sleepless, care-full nights--to give the public in return the very best
there was in him and to make that best as good as it could be made. He
was a master of every detail of his vocation and, alone among American
theatrical managers of the past twenty years, he understood and
practically recognized that Acting is a Fine Art and not merely a
business. The main result at which he aimed was always good plays,
correctly set and superbly acted. If that result was not always attained
by him, neither has it always been attained by any other worker of the
Stage,--not since “Roscius was an actor in Rome.” While judgment and
taste must deplore his production of “Zaza” and “The Easiest Way”
justice and candor must concede his right to be remembered by the best
and most influential of his works, which comprehend an amazing variety
of subjects and of merit, ranging, for example, from “May Blossom” to
“Peter Grimm,” from “Men and Women” to “Sweet Kitty Bellairs,” from “The
Heart of Maryland” to “The Music Master,” from “The Charity Ball” to
“The Girl of the Golden West,” from “The Girl I Left Behind Me” to
“Adrea,” from “Lord Chumley” to “Madame Butterfly,” from “The Darling of
the Gods” to “A Grand Army Man,” and which, first and last, deal with
most of the great elemental experiences of human life.
* * * * *
The sentiment of patriotism is a sublime and lovely sentiment, but it
cannot be nurtured by self-deception, by vainglorious boasting and
sycophantic adulation. There is far too much talk about our superiority
as a people and far too little thought about means of making that
alleged superiority actual. We are hearing much, and we shall hear more,
about the spiritual exaltation and the fine idealism which has recently
carried us into the Great War,--but such talk is not honest. We had as
much reason to enter the War in 1915 as we had in 1917. We have entered
it, primarily, from self-interest, for self-defence,--to fight now, in
Europe, in order that we need not fight, hereafter, in America. Let us
be honest and outspoken about our course. It is idle to seek, as some of
his “very articulate” political opponents and detractors do, to lay the
blame of our unworthy delay on Woodrow Wilson (one of the great men of
modern times) or on any other man or group of men. The blame rests
squarely on the people of the United States as a nation. The spirit of
our country is and long has been one of pagan Materialism, infecting all
branches of thought, and of unscrupulous Commercialism, infecting all
branches of action. Foreign elements, alien to our institutions and
ideals as to our language and our thought,--seditious elements,
ignorant, boisterous, treacherous, and dangerous,--have been introduced
into our population in immense quantities, interpenetrating and
contaminating it in many ways: in the face of self-evident peril and of
iterated warnings and protests, immigration into the United States has
been permitted during the last twenty years of about 15,000,000
persons--including vast numbers of the most undesirable order. We call
ourselves a civilized nation--but civility is conspicuous in our country
chiefly by its absence. Gentleness is despised. Good manners are
practically extinct. Public decorum is almost unknown. We are
notoriously a law-contemning people. The murder rate--the _unpunished_
murder rate--in our country has long been a world scandal. Mob outrage
is an incident of weekly occurrence among us. Our methods of business,
approved and practised, are not only unscrupulous but predatory. Every
public conveyance and place of resort bears witness to the general
uncouthness by innumerable signs enjoining the most elemental
decency--and by the almost universal disregard of the enjoinments! Slang
and thieves’ argot is the prevalent language of the people and there is
scarcely a periodical or a newspaper in the land which does not exhibit
and promote the corruption of good manners diffused by that evil
communication,--while the publicist who dares to record the facts and
censure the faults is generally stigmatized as a fool or ridiculed as a
pedant. The tone of the public mind is to a woful extent sordid,
selfish, greedy. In our great cities life is largely a semi-delirious
fever of vapid purpose and paltry strife, and in their public vehicles
of transportation the populace--men, women, and young girls--are herded
together without the remotest observance of common decency,--mauled and
jammed and packed one upon another in a manner which would not be
tolerated in shipment of the helpless steer or the long-suffering
swine....
If true civilization is to develop and live in our country, such
conditions, such a spirit, such ideals, manners, and customs as are
widely prevalent among us to-day, must utterly pass and cease. The one
rational hope that they will so disappear lies in disseminating
EDUCATION,--not merely schooling, imperative as that is; but, far more,
a truer and higher education imparted by the ministry of beauty;
education which recognizes that material prosperity and marvellous
discoveries of science are not ultimate goals of human pilgrimage but
mere instruments to be used in spiritual advancement; the inspiration
of noble ideals, gentleness, refinement, and the grace of manners;
cheerful courage, resolute patience, and the calm of hope. For that
education Society must look largely to the ministry of the arts and, in
particular, to the rightly conducted Theatre,--an institution
potentially of tremendous beneficence....
Few managers have been able to take or to understand that view of the
Stage. David Belasco was one of them. It is because his administration
of his “great office” has been, in the main, conducted in the spirit of
a zealous public servant; because for many years he maintained as a
public resort a beautiful theatre, diffusive of the atmosphere of a
pleasant, well-ordered home, placing before the public many fine plays,
superbly acted, and set upon the stage in a perfection of environment
never surpassed anywhere and equalled only by a few of an earlier race
of managers of which he was the last, that David Belasco has, directly
and indirectly, exerted an immense influence for good and is entitled to
appreciative recognition, enduring celebration, and ever grateful
remembrance. And, though on the two occasions when I differed with him I
vigorously opposed his course, it is a comfort to reflect that nothing
ever chilled our friendship and that all that could be done to sustain
and aid his great and worthy purpose and to cheer his mind was done
while he could benefit by it....
* * * * *
Among American theatrical managers David Belasco was long unique,--the
sole survivor, exemplar, and transmitter of an earlier and better theory
and practice of theatrical management than is anywhere visible now. When
he came to New York, to the Madison Square Theatre, representative
theatre managers of our country were Lester Wallack, Augustin Daly, John
T. Ford, Samuel Colville, Dion Boucicault, J. H. McVicker, R. M. Hooley,
Henry E. Abbey, Montgomery Field, and A. M. Palmer, and our Stage was
dominated and swayed by the influence of those men and of such players
as John Gilbert, Joseph Jefferson, William Warren, Charles W. Couldock,
Edwin Booth, Lawrence Barrett, W. J. Florence, Tommaso Salvini, Fanny
Janauschek, Helena Modjeska, Ada Rehan, Mary Anderson, Henry Irving, and
Ellen Terry. When, in 1895, Belasco first successfully struck out for
himself, great changes had taken place and greater ones were impending.
When, in 1902, he at last succeeded in establishing himself
independently, in a theatre of his own, it was in almost a new world
that he did so! Colville, Wallack, Ford, Boucicault,
[Illustration:
Photograph by William S. Page. Belasco’s Collection.
BELASCO AT ORIENTA POINT--SUMMER HOME OF HIS DAUGHTER, MRS. GEST]
McVicker, Hooley, Abbey, Daly, Field, Gilbert, Barrett, Florence,
Booth,--all were dead. Mansfield had made his ambitious venture in
theatre management and had utterly failed in it: Irving had lost the
Lyceum in London and was nearing the end of his life: Salvini and Mary
Anderson had left the Stage: Jefferson retired within eighteen months
and soon after died: Modjeska and Ada Rehan were in broken health, their
careers practically closed. Fine actors were visible and, here and
there, splendid things were being done: the histrionic fires have never
yet been wholly extinguished. But actors and men truly comprehensive of,
and sympathetic with, actors no longer controlled the Theatre: that
institution had passed almost entirely into the hands of the so-called
“business man,”--the speculative huckster and the rampant
vulgarian,--and the prevalent ideal in its management was that of the
soap chandler and the corner-grocery. The men who chiefly dominated the
Theatre in the period of fifteen years since Belasco’s establishment in
the metropolis,--with many of whom he was long righteously and bitterly
at variance,--were Charles Frohman, Al. Hayman, A. L. Erlanger, Marc
Klaw, Samuel Nirdlinger, J. F. Zimmermann, William Harris, George C.
Tyler, William A. Brady, Henry B. Harris, Lee Shubert, J. J. Shubert,
George M. Cohan, and Al. H. Woods.
There is not one of those men, his later contemporaries, with whom it is
possible properly to compare Belasco. _He_ was an artist, a dramatist,
an authentic manager actuated by a high purpose and one who exerted a
profound influence on the Theatre of his period. _The others_--though
several of them have manifested various talents--all belong in the
category of mere showmen,--speculators in theatrical business, and, save
for the bad influence fluent from some of them, they are of no more
interest or importance than so many “eminent brewers” or celebrated
purveyors of tallow and pork.
One of the managers named, however, by reason of exceptional energy and
shrewdness and by dint of incessant self-advertising, became and long
continued to be the most conspicuous figure in the theatrical field.
That manager was Charles Frohman, and because Belasco and he were
personal friends and personal enemies, because they were professional
associates and, in a business sense, professional rivals during many
years, it is inevitable that the student of the theatrical period from
1885 to 1917 should attempt to make some comparison of them. That
renders an estimate of Frohman desirable here....
Charles Frohman was born at Sandusky, Ohio, June 17, 1860, and he lost
his life in the sinking of the Lusitania, May 7, 1915. He entered the
theatrical business, as an “advance agent,” in January, 1877, and he
remained in it until his death. He was honest in his dealings, amiable
in his domestic and social relations, benevolent toward the poor, highly
popular among his friends, able and energetic in business affairs, a
gambler by temperament, and of a self-poised, resolute character. His
management of the Theatre, however, was injurious, both to that
institution and to society. He assisted to commercialize and thus to
degrade the Stage. His policy was distinctly and unequivocally expressed
by himself, in these words: “I keep a Department Store.” That is
precisely what he did, and that is precisely what no manager has a right
to do,--while claiming _to exercise an intellectual power and foster a
great art_. The man to whom Oofty Gooft and Edwin Booth, “Shenandoah”
and “Hamlet,” “Hattie” Williams and Helena Modjeska, “The Girl from
Maxim’s” and “Alabama,” and so following, are all alike--mere theatrical
commodities of commerce to be exploited as such--may be “a man of his
word,” an honest tradesman, a genial companion, a dutiful son, an
affectionate brother, a loyal friend, generous in prosperity,
unperturbed in adversity and expeditious in transaction of
business,--but he is not and he never can be a true theatrical manager.
In the “Life” of Charles Frohman--by his brother Daniel (a man of far
higher ability) and another writer--some informative utterances by him
are quoted,--utterances which reveal and establish the quality of his
mind more unmistakably than whole chapters of analysis could do. This is
one of them, imparting his view of the greatest poet and dramatist that
ever lived and of the consummate tragedy of youthful love, “Romeo and
Juliet”:
“‘Nonsense!’ exclaimed Frohman. ‘Who’s Shakespeare? He was just a
man. He won’t hurt you. I don’t see any Shakespeare. Just imagine
you’re looking at a soldier, home from the Cuban war, making love
to a giggling schoolgirl on a balcony. That’s all I see, and that’s
the way I want it played. Dismiss all idea of costume. Be
modern.’”--The tragedy was acted in the manner he desired.
Charles Frohman was simply a wholesale dealer in theatrical produce. He
“made” many “stars”--“stars” being a commodity requisite in his business
and for the manufacture of which he expressed a strong liking. He never
made an actor. There was nothing of importance accomplished in the
Theatre through his activity that would not have been accomplished
equally well if he had never been born. As far as the Art of the Theatre
is concerned he stands in about the same relation to such men as
Wallack, Daly, and Belasco as a maker of chromo-lithographs does to
Corot or Inness.
* * * * *
Belasco was a good fighter--resourceful, courageous, pertinacious. He
never forgot a kindness nor an injury,--yet bitter and, to a certain
point vindictive, as his resentment of injury unquestionably was, he
could easily be placated and he was instantly amenable to any appeal to
his kindness of heart. I well remember one occasion on which I chanced
to be with him and other friends (it was the last night of the run of
“The Darling of the Gods,” May 30, 1903) when he was called away by an
urgent appeal. He presently returned and, speaking aside with me,
informed me that the message had been from a person widely known among
journalists and actors as one of the vilest creatures that ever
scribbled slander about decent men and women for the blackguard section
of the press and one who had done him great wrong and injury. “And now,”
Belasco said, “he comes to _me_--appealing for help!” “What have you
done?” I asked. “What could I do?” he answered: “The man is in the
gutter--friendless--penniless--starving. I couldn’t refuse him--now,
could I? I gave him what he asked for.” That incident is significantly
characteristic....
* * * * *
Upon David Belasco’s ability as an actor I can give no judgment, never
having seen him act: he seldom appeared on the stage after 1880, and he
did not come to New York until 1882. He played more than 170 parts
between 1871 and 1880, and it is obvious that his early, continuous, and
practical experience in acting and in observation of the dramatic
methods and the stage business of many actors, of all kinds, as well as
of the practice of some of the best stage managers ever known in
America, must have largely contributed to the brilliant efficiency in
direction for which he was remarkable. No more capable, resourceful
mechanician has appeared in the modern Theatre....
Belasco was a great stage manager because he possessed a comprehensive
knowledge of human nature and human experience and an equally
comprehensive knowledge alike of scenery (including stage lighting) and
of acting; a dramatic temperament; clear insight; almost inexhaustible
patience; ability to impart knowledge, and the rare and precious faculty
of eliciting and developing the best that was in the actors whom he
directed. It was the latter attribute that made him unique among stage
managers of the last twenty years or so: the general custom of that
pestiferous animal “the stage producer” is to thrust upon actors an
arbitrary ideal of character....
Belasco possessed, moreover, exceptional understanding of the traits of
actors: he knew their vanity and sometimes almost intolerable conceit,
their often paltry purposes and petty ways; likewise he knew and deeply
sympathized with their fine and lovable qualities,--the noble ambitions
by which sometimes they are actuated, their often forlorn hopefulness,
their courage under disappointment, their restless impulse toward
_expression_, their honest longing for opportunity and recognition,
their peculiarities, foibles, and sensibility, and he possessed and
exercised extraordinary judgment, consideration, and tact in the control
of them....
* * * * *
Being human, Belasco possessed faults and made mistakes: being
successful, he never lacked for censurers to point out the one or, with
gleeful malice, to celebrate the other. He was weak by reason of an
inordinate craving for approbation and by reason of an excessive
amiability: rather than inflict the pain of immediate disappointment he
sometimes foolishly temporized in dealing with importunate persons,
thus, at last, incurring their bitter resentment and enmity because of
what they mistakenly though naturally deemed his insincerity. But, in
every respect, his virtues far exceeded his faults, his strength his
weakness, and his rectitude his errors: he was an extraordinary man,
worthy of public esteem and honor, and, in private, most loved by those
who knew him best. As the years speed away and the great place he filled
in the Theatre of his time, and the great void which his passing must
make, become rightly appreciated, those whose detraction followed David
Belasco may admit their injustice:
“They that reviled him may mourn to recover him,--
Knowing how gentle he was and how brave!
Nothing he’ll reck, where the wind blowing over him
Ripples the grasses that dream on his grave!”
* * * * *
Much has been written, first and last, about Belasco’s utter absorption
in artistic matters and his ignorance of business affairs. It is true
that, first of all, he was an artist and that in his theory of
theatrical business the keystone of the arch was the Art of Acting. But
it cannot be too strongly emphasized that he was one of the few managers
who united in himself a profound knowledge of the drama, all the
methods and expedients of histrionic art, the history of the Theatre and
entire familiarity with its contemporary conditions. He was, in short,
one of the most shrewd, sagacious, far-sighted, hard-headed managers
that ever lived. He early saw the futility of trying to attend, himself,
to every detail of a great and complex organization and so he employed
capable and vigorous men, able and willing to work under his direction
and to carry out his orders. But anybody who supposes that David Belasco
was not perfectly well and intimately aware of everything that was going
on around him and was not at all times the master of his own destiny in
the Theatre is cherishing a delusion!
Most conspicuous among the men associated with Belasco throughout his
long career in management was Benjamin Franklin Roeder, his general
business representative and close personal friend, whose name is here
fittingly linked with commemoration of the chief whom he so long and
faithfully served. Mr. Roeder, originally, aspired to be a dramatist,
and during the early days of Belasco’s activity in New York, while
connected with the Sargent School of Acting, he obtained an introduction
to him from Franklin Sargent. Roeder had made a dramatization of the
novel of “St. Elmo” (a subject which was successfully introduced on the
stage many years later) and desired that Belasco should read his play
with a view to its possible production. Belasco, pleased by the manner
and address of the young writer, agreed to consider the matter and made
an appointment to meet him and discuss it at the School office at one
o’clock on the following Sunday afternoon. In the stress of business he
forgot that appointment, but an urgent errand taking him to his office
at eleven o’clock on the night of the specified day he found Roeder
seated on the doorstep, asleep. He had been waiting there ten hours.
“When I asked him why he had waited,” said Belasco, telling me of this
incident, “he answered, ‘You said you might be late--and to wait.’ I
made up my mind then that there was surely a place for a boy so
tenacious and that he was just the fellow for me. I took him on, at
first as my secretary, and he has been my business assistant, sometimes
my bulwark, always ‘my friend, faithful and just to me,’ ever since.”
Members of the theatrical profession are almost without exception
indiscreet and garrulous; secrecy, which often would be invaluable in
that profession,--as in any calling in which success frequently depends
on priority in exploitation of ideas which cannot be protected from
imitation,--is almost unknown in it. Roeder unites in himself not only
fidelity to his
[Illustration:
Photograph by White. Belasco’s Collection.
BENJAMIN F. ROEDER, BELASCO’S GENERAL BUSINESS MANAGER]
employer, tenacity of purpose, familiarity with all the commercial
details of theatrical affairs, but also excellent executive faculties,
directness and celerity in the despatch of business and, on all
subjects, the restful reticence of the reclusive clam. His services were
often invaluable to Belasco.
* * * * *
In person David Belasco was singular. His height was only five feet, six
inches, and in later years he became rather stout, but in youth he was
slender and graceful. His raiment was, almost invariably, black and in
appearance much resembled that worn by Roman Catholic priests of the
present day. His hair, originally black (not, as most hair so designated
is, dark brown, but _jet black_), became first gray, then silver-white.
His eyebrows were remarkably heavy and black and so remained. His eyes
were extraordinarily fine--dark brown, large, and luminous--and his gaze
was attentive and direct. I have not observed a countenance more
singular, mobile, and expressive. When he chose he could make of it an
inscrutable mask. But when indifferent or unaware of observation the
changes of expression--shadows of his thoughts--would flit over his face
with astonishing variety and rapidity, so that I have watched him when
he would appear at one moment commonplace and dull--the next,
highly distinguished, then kind--gentle--thoughtful--dreamy--
ruminant--pensive--mischievous--pugnacious--alert--hard--cold--at
moments, even malignant--boyish--playful--tender. On the rare occasions
when passion mastered him (or when he chose to have it seem to do
so--occasions always difficult to distinguish), his aspect became
positively Mephistophelian....
* * * * *
One of the mental advantages possessed by Belasco,--a qualification as
precious as it is rare,--was the faculty of absorbing knowledge without
effort. He learned all things with amazing ease. When little more than
thirteen years old he had imbibed from an uncle, a visionary scholar,
sufficient knowledge of Hebrew to enable him to conduct a religious
service in that language, which he did, “without the punctuation,”--an
achievement the difficulty of which will be appreciated only by Hebrew
scholars. That faculty persisted in him always....
Belasco early recognized the wisdom contained in the old poet Prior’s
injunction as to the treatment of woman,
“Be to her faults a little blind,
Be to her virtues very kind,”
and he consistently obeyed it. He possessed, furthermore, an intuitive
knowledge of the nature of women, a compassionate sympathy with them,
and, whether professionally or personally, exceptional skill in pleasing
and managing them: he was, in turn, readily subservient to female
influence....
As a writer he manifested amazing vitality, persistent industry, lively
fancy, considerable faculty of imagination, keen observation, quick
perception of character but more of striking situation and effect, and
great knowledge of human nature. He possessed more the sense of humor
than the faculty of it....
Belasco all his life possessed the spirit of adventure. He was eagerly
interested in the life of to-day. His sensibility was extreme. He had
great goodness of heart. He was very generous, extremely kind.
* * * * *
A GREAT SHAKESPEAREAN PROJECT.
[Not long before my father died he broached to Belasco the project of
making a remarkable series of Shakespearean productions. His suggestion
was eagerly adopted and, if he had lived, it would have been put into
effect during the theatrical season of 1918-’19. His death forced
postponement of the productions--but some preparatory work had been
accomplished and Belasco has not abandoned the project, which is
outlined in the following correspondence, and which will, I believe,
ultimately be fulfilled.--J. W.]
(_William Winter to David Belasco._)
“New Brighton, Staten Island,
“February 23, 1917.
“Dear David:--
“My work on your ‘Life,’ leading me into considerate examination of
what you have done and not done, the scope of your experience, the
difference between conditions, past and present, has, incidentally,
turned my mind toward the future and what you might do, and I
venture to make a suggestion, which I hope you will not deem
intrusive. It would be a great thing for our Stage, and I think for
you, if you were to make a splendid production of a Shakespeare
play--and I believe that you could, with profit, bring out ‘King
Henry IV.’ It has not been acted in New York since 1896, and then
only for a few nights and in a very inefficient way.[8] It had not
been acted previous to that for fifteen or twenty years. ‘On the
road’ it is, practically, as little known. The Second Part has not
been acted in our city (except two or three performances at the
Century [Theatre], by amateurs, signifying nothing) for more than
half-a-century. A production of the First Part might be made; or,
Daly’s original scheme of combining the two parts might be
fulfilled,--though I believe the former would be much the better
venture.
“If the idea pleases you, I should be most happy to talk with you
about it, in detail; to make suggestions, and to assist in any
possible way. I hope you will consider this matter with care. If
you do not bring out the play, before long somebody else will--and,
if with proper care, gain reputation and money by it.
“I have been very sick, but am improving and the work goes
on--though much slower than I would have it do. I hope to see you
before long.
“With kind regards,
“Faithfully yours,
“WILLIAM WINTER.”
(_David Belasco to William Winter._)
“Belasco Theatre, New York,
“March 2, 1917.
“My dear Mr. Winter:--
“I received your letter and regret very much that you were so ill.
I am glad, indeed, to learn that you are better. I think the
weather is very depressing and debilitating.
“I have long wanted to do a Shakespearean play, and your suggestion
gives me an idea. I think that ‘King Henry IV.,’ if well done and
produced with simple dignity, would be most timely. Thank you very
much for your suggestion.
“As soon as this hateful season is over (the spring season is
always so hard on me--engaging actors, getting manuscripts
together, etc.) do let me come over and talk over ‘King Henry IV.’:
meanwhile, I must read it again, as parts of it are very faint in
my memory. I do not believe in combining the two parts. I had
thought of ‘Julius Cæsar,’ which I consider the greatest play in
the world; but it is so well known that it invites comparison. It
is much better to produce a Shakespearean play but little seen....
“With many thanks, all good wishes--and looking forward to seeing
you and talking over a Shakespearean production, I am,
“Faithfully yours,
“DAVID BELASCO.”
(_William Winter to David Belasco._)
“New Brighton, Staten Island,
“March 8, 1917.
“Dear David:--
“Your letter of March 2 has reached me.
“I was glad to hear from you, and I thank you for your kind wishes.
I improve but slowly: still--I improve.
“The work goes on--but _not_ well. It goes slowly. But still--it
goes. I do not remember ever experiencing so much difficulty in
putting biographical matter in order....
“As soon as the weather settles, and the pressure of your business
will permit, I shall be glad to have you come to see me here. We
can then resume talks about your adventures; and we can confer
about ‘King Henry IV.’ The more I have reflected on the subject the
more I feel that you would do well to revive that play. It requires
editing, of course,--but it is a superb work. Besides _Falstaff_,
_King Henry the Fourth_, _Prince Henry_ and _Hotspur_ are all
splendid characters (_I_ prefer the _Prince_ to _Hotspur_: actors
usually do not), and several of the others are almost as good.
“The plan of combining the two Parts has some merits: but (in my
judgment) to produce the First Part is the ‘eftest scheme.’ We will
talk of it when you come....
“Faithfully yours,
“WILLIAM WINTER.”
(_William Winter to David Belasco._)
“46 Winter Avenue, New Brighton,
“Staten Island, New York,
“May 18, 1917.
“My dear David:--
“In the course of my work on the ‘Life’ I have had occasion to
examine and consider several forms of censure and disparagement
which, first and last, have been a good deal circulated about you.
One of these is the statement (which I, personally, have heard made
by some who ought to have known better) that you have not ‘produced
Shakespeare’ because you have been afraid the public would then
‘find you out.’ This has led me to make a very careful study of the
subject and an exposition of the quality of your early experience
and training as bearing upon competency to produce and direct
Shakespeare in revivals. This, in turn, has kept the suggestion I
ventured to make to you, some time ago, about ‘King Henry IV.,’
much in my mind. And turning over that subject and looking at it
from many points, I have formulated a plan, fulfilment of which
would give you an absolutely unique position among producers of
Shakespeare, and I venture to lay it before you, in the hope that
perhaps it may be of use, and that, at least, you will not think me
presumptuous.
“It is as follows:
“‘King Henry IV.,’ both parts, is a sequel to ‘King Richard II.’
The latter is one of the most eloquent and beautiful of all
Shakespeare’s plays. All three of the plays named could well and
conveniently be acted _by the same company_. The actual expense of
putting on all three of them would not be much more than that of
putting on one. You could make an IMMENSE impression by bringing
out those three plays as a ‘Shakespeare Trilogy.’ Thus:
“Mondays and Thursdays; ‘King Richard II.’
“Tuesdays and Fridays; ‘King Henry IV., Part One.’
“Wednesdays and Saturdays; ‘King Henry IV., Part Two.’
“Thus, every week, you could give two full ‘cycles’ of the trilogy;
and, on matinée days, the ‘First Part of King Henry IV.,’ or a
modern play.
“In presenting such a thing you would undertake and accomplish a
more distinctive, original, and impressive managerial enterprise
than any single venture of any of the representative Shakespearean
producers,--Garrick, Kemble, Macready, Phelps, Kean, Booth, Irving,
Daly, or Beerbohm-Tree.
“_I_ feel confident that, in a _business_ way, it could be made
profitable. If you got through even at cost, or at a small loss, it
would (in _my_ view) be, in a _business_ way (wholly aside from the
immense and incontestable service to art and the public), a
profitable investment. And I _am sure_ it would ‘make money,’ too.
“I would do anything and everything in my power to help so fine a
scheme,--would arrange the plays, write notes, etc., etc., if you
should desire it.
“Please do not think me intrusive with my suggestions. And please
give this very careful consideration.
“It would be a special satisfaction to me to see you crown your
career with such a wonderful, such an unparalleled, accomplishment.
However much honest difference of opinion there may be regarding
some of the productions you have made (as you know, you and I are
hopelessly at variance about some of the plays you have brought
out), there could be no room for cavil or honest censure of such a
venture as the production of three of Shakespeare’s greatest plays,
which, practically speaking, are unknown, are _new_, to the
American Stage, and which are peculiarly well suited to _your_
purposes and treatment. And it would be all the more splendid that
such production should not be made at the high-tide of general
theatrical prosperity, but should be made when the whole world
seems shattered, and the rest of theatrical managers are running
about like ants that have been disturbed in their hill!
“Faithfully yours,
“WILLIAM WINTER.”
(_Telegram, David Belasco to William Winter._)
“New York, May 19, 1917.
“Dear William Winter, I [have] just read your letter. You are
right, and I promise you and myself to do the plays as you suggest,
counting upon your generous assistance, without which I could not
do them. I shall come over as soon as I possibly can, to speak
further of this. Thank you for your enthusiasm and your faith. God
bless you!
“DAVID BELASCO.”
CONCERNING SARAH BERNHARDT.
[It was part of my father’s purpose in making this Memoir to devote a
section in it to BELASCO’S CONTEMPORARIES. The notes which he made on
the subject were not extensive. For that reason and for others I have
decided not to attempt to supply the section. Before making the
decision, however, I addressed to Belasco some inquiries bearing on the
subject and especially one concerning his “favorite player.” His reply
to the latter embodies a notable tribute to a wonderful woman and is, I
think, of exceptional interest. Among other things, it strikingly
illustrates how radically doctors sometimes disagree. No person more
admired the resolute courage shown by Sarah Bernhardt than Winter did,
who wrote of her: “It is good to see upon the Stage--and everywhere
else--indomitable endurance, the aspiring mind that nothing can daunt
and the iron will that nothing can break.” And no writer more justly
appreciated than he did her artistic faculties, her supremacy as “an
histrionic executant.” His final estimate of her, however,--an estimate
as exact as a chemist’s analysis and one which will survive all
disparagement,--is, in some respects, in such sharp disagreement with
Belasco’s that readers of the latter will find the former specially
instructive. It is embodied, together with his studies of her acting,
in his book entitled “The Wallet of Time.”--J. W.]
(_David Belasco to Jefferson Winter._)
“The Belasco Theatre, New York,
“May 31, 1918.
“My dear Jefferson Winter:--
“You ask me to tell you who, of all the players I have ever seen,
is my favorite. My, but that is a hard question to answer! In fact,
I don’t think I _can_ answer with just a name. I have so many
favorites! It is a case of ‘Not that I love Cæsar less but Rome
more!’ And then, too, I have seen and known so many players of so
many different kinds--of _all_ kinds--and our moods vary. As I look
back into my memory and try to call up the actors and actresses of
the Past it seems to me that John McCullough was the most _lovable_
as a man and, in the great, heroic parts, the most satisfying as an
actor. Barrett was the most _ambitious_; Booth was the most
_powerful_ and _interesting_; Owens was the _funniest_ man I ever
saw, and after him Raymond; Wallack was the most _polished_ and
_courtly_; Salvini was the most _imposing_; Irving the most
_intellectual_ and _dominating_; Mansfield the most _erratic_--and
all of them were great actors and each of them, I think, was my
special favorite! But if I could see only one more theatrical
performance and had to choose which one of those actors I would
see, I think I would choose Edwin Booth in _King Richard the
Third_.
“Of the women--Adelaide Neilson was easily the most _winsome_ and
_passionate_. Modjeska was the most _romantic_. Mary Anderson was
the _stateliest_, Ellen Terry the most _pathetic_, Ada Rehan the
_greatest comedienne_, and Sarah Bernhardt--ah, what shall I say
of the Divine Sarah!
“If I were to have the choice of one last performance by the _one
actress_ I admire the most I am afraid I should quarrel with Fate
and insist on choosing _two_--Adelaide Neilson in _Juliet_ and
Sarah Bernhardt in anything. To me, she is, in all seriousness, one
of the everlasting wonders of art. Her voice was like liquid gold;
her delivery was, and is, a supreme example for any man or woman
that ever stepped on a stage. She added a language to all the
others. French is beautiful; but
French-as-spoken-by-Sarah-Bernhardt is sublime! As an actress I
admired her most in the pre-Sardou plays; but she is great in
everything. She has always practised one of the great truths your
dear father taught--that the art of acting is the art of
_expression_ not _re_pression. I consider that she is the best
_listener_ I ever saw--and very few except stage managers know how
difficult it is to seem to listen for the first times to speeches
which have been heard over and over again, sometimes for many
years. She is always mistress of the scene. It is a dramatic
education just to watch her. She could play ‘quiet’ scenes as well
as anybody else--if not better. But when it came to the great
emotional outbursts Sarah Bernhardt could always make them and make
them so that she brought her audience right up on their feet. A
good deal of the so-called ‘repressed school’ of acting is not art
but artifice--mere trickery. Many players of that school ‘repress’
because they haven’t got anything to give out--they make a virtue
of necessity and dodge what they cannot do. Sarah Bernhardt never
tried to dodge anything and she never needed to, because she never
undertook anything she could not do superbly. As to the secret of
her wonderful success and great career that you hear people talk so
much about, it is simply this: She loves her work.
[Illustration:
Photographed by Rochlitz Studio Belasco’s Collection.
SARAH BERNHARDT]
When man, woman, or child _loves_ what they are doing, the doing of
it is to them like God’s sunlight to the flowers, it keeps them
alive and makes them beautiful.
“Much as I admire Mme. Bernhardt as an actress I think I admire her
most as a woman. She sets an example of pluck and perseverance for
all of us, and I have always been very solicitous of her good
opinion. She has come to see several of my productions and her
approval has meant much to me. I once gave a special performance of
‘Adrea’ for her,[9] because that was the only way she could get to
see it and her admiration and applause I regard as the highest
honor.
“Last Christmas I sent her a telegram which I should like to give
you. This is it:
“‘Dear and adored friend:--
“‘May God be good to you this coming year, may you have a bright
and happy Christmas, and may your glorious spirit remain with us
for many years to come. We all admire your courage and your genius
and love to call you “The Great Woman” of our century!’
“Her reply is one of my most valued treasures:
“‘I cannot express to you sufficiently my appreciation of your
adorable messages. I have long been an admirer and friend of yours.
My one regret is that I have never played under your direction.
That will be for another planet!
“‘All my heart devoted,
“‘SARAH BERNHARDT.’
“Yes, my dear Jefferson Winter, if I must have one, and _only one_,
favorite player, I am quite sure it must be Mme. Sarah Bernhardt,
in whom the Spirit of Courage, the Spirit of Youth, the Spirit of
France, and the Spirit of Art are all united.
“Faithfully,
“DAVID BELASCO.”
BRIEF EXTRACTS FROM MISCELLANEOUS CORRESPONDENCE OF BELASCO.
“In all my years of work in the Theatre I have never done anything with
which I was wholly satisfied--and I never shall do so. It is the irony
of Fate that we live only long enough to learn how, and then die before
we can make use of the knowledge!”
“If I were asked what proportion of the aspirants for the Stage who
apply to me for advice will ultimately become great artists, I should
answer: ‘One in two thousand.’”
“The good stage manager is born--like the good actor. It [stage
management] is, in itself, a special gift and cannot be acquired by
training.”
“When I can think more with my head and less with my heart the world
will think me wise--and I shall know myself a fool!”
“The eyes of the heart see quickly and judge rightly.”
“I think Dreams are the only Realities of Life--and Love is their soul.”
“My world is a small one, of my own making; a world of faith and
dreams--and that’s why there are so few people in it!”
“When we are not physically well, the thoughts follow the line of least
resistance--if the Will allows them to; but the Will is _Master_, and
whatever we wish to be, whatever we wish to do, whatever we wish to get,
we _can_ get, we can _be_ and _do_, by _willing_ it. So it is that you
will be happy; so it is that you will do wonderful things with your
life; so it is that you will get into the Castle of your Dreams.”
“For women, marriage is the greatest of all careers: therefore, do not
try to mix any of the others with it!”
About Flaubert and de Maupassant: “Both of them are of the realistic
school, and all students of human nature should read and reread them,
for they are well worth thought and study. The joys and ills of life are
so graphically portrayed that one may almost hear the souls of many
women weep in their pages. Many of their women you will find frail and
erring, but the light of love shines through nearly all their mistakes,
hallowing them, and whether they be beautifully human, or just inhumanly
beautiful, they are always women.”
“Actors are prone to think too much of themselves and too much of the
affairs of other people. Gossip and frivolity in the theatre have killed
many a promising career. The first maxim I would teach all beginners on
the stage is this, by Augustin Daly.
‘A sure way to Success--Mind your business:
A sure way to Happiness--Mind your own business!’
I read that on a sign in the waiting room of Daly’s Theatre, more than
thirty-five years ago, and I made up my mind if ever I had a theatre of
my own I’d put it up where my actors could see it,--and I did. It’s over
the Call Board at my theatre now. The second maxim I would teach actors
is this: ‘Never fake on the stage. The public will always catch you and
never forgive you!’”
“The day of the drunken actor, like that of the drunken statesman and
the drunken doctor, has gone forever.”
“Try with all your might to think sweet and happy thoughts--and in time
you will come to have faith in real things and so will understand life.”
“Life is very short, and happiness an elusive will-o’-the-wisp--a wraith
of the night of Time who beckons and beckons, and when we try to follow
him, escapes us very easily.”
“The ‘star’ actors of to-day lack that careful schooling and full
equipment conspicuous in all the great ‘stars’ of twenty-five, thirty,
fifty years ago, and which is to be acquired only through the old-time
stock system. According to the method of those days, it was never
possible for the actor to play the same part many times in succession.
He was obliged to demonstrate ability not only in many parts but through
a period of many years, and thus to establish himself deservedly in the
good opinion of the public.... I doubt whether any of the young ‘stars’
could play as many and as great a variety of parts and play them as well
as the ‘stars’ of former days,--although striking successes are made
repeatedly in characters especially written for some particular ‘star.’
...”
“In the old days we frequently produced plays with hardly anything at
all to enhance them, either scenery or properties, but merely by a
judicious use of clothes and lighting we made them effective: we did
this because we did not have means to do them correctly. Nowadays,
productions so made are hailed as novelties and the wonders of the age!”
“I maintain that the great thing, the essential thing, for a producer is
to create _Illusion_ and _Effect_. The supreme object in all my work has
been to get near to nature; to make my atmosphere as _real_ as
possible, when I am dealing with a drama or a comedy of life. In
mounting a fantastic play there is but one thing to do, and that is to
be as fantastic as possible. And so, in a realist play to be as
realistic as possible. And by this I mean to create the _illusion_ of
reality. To do that every scene must be treated as a separate, a new,
problem,--and the setting of it so as to create illusion is a problem
that will never be solved by the ‘new art.’... When I set a scene
representing a Child’s Restaurant how can I expect to hold the
_attention_ of my audience unless I show them a scene that _looks_ real?
They see it, recognize it, accept it and then, if the actors do their
part, the audience forgets that it isn’t looking into a real place. In
‘Marie-Odile’ some benches, chairs, tables, a pot of carrots and a few
other things, with the bare walls of the convent, were all we needed.
But suppose I had tried to put ‘Adrea’ on in the same way? Let us cut
our cloth to suit our pattern. Do not let us attempt to ‘suggest’ a
Child’s Restaurant by setting up a counter with a coffee cup and a
toothpick on it, nor try to picture the court of a Roman emperor with
the same bare simplicity that answers for a lonely convent in
Alsace!...”
“After all, hard work, a little love, courage to go on, strength to
fight the daily battle,--what more can a man ask?”
[Illustration:
Photograph by White. Belasco’s Collection.
DAVID WARFIELD AS _VAN DER DECKEN_]
APPENDIX
(By J. W.)
“VAN DER DECKEN.”
Belasco’s romantic drama of “Van Der Decken” was first produced at The
Playhouse, Wilmington, Delaware, on December 12, 1915, with David
Warfield in its central character, that of _The Flying Dutchman_, and it
was acted during the balance of the season of 1915-’16 on a tour which
embraced Washington, Baltimore, Pittsburgh, Cincinnati, and many other
cities of the Middle-western States. It has not yet been presented in
New York. Belasco esteems it as in some ways his best work. Mr. Winter
did not see it. The following comments on “Van Der Decken” and its
representation are quoted from an article by Charles M. Bregg, a
respected journalist and dramatic critic of “The Pittsburgh Gazette”:
“It is a play so delicate, so poetic in its inner meaning and so
weird in its mystery and philosophy that one wonders at the
artistic courage of David Belasco and the daring of this
adventurous actor who has struck out into hitherto unsailed seas of
dramatic endeavor.... The story, which has appeared in the folklore
of nearly all the nations of Europe but which has found its most
extensive expression in Holland--that of the rebellious seaman who
was destined to an eternal roaming of the seas as a punishment for
defying God--is not new in the literature of the stage. In Opera
and in Drama it has appeared under various guises; but to David
Belasco and to David Warfield has been left the task of giving the
old myth a new setting. Under the title of ‘Van Der Decken’ Mr.
Warfield appears as this Wandering Jew of the seas in a drama of
intense emotional appeal tinged with a deep sense of the
supernatural. In this new play _The Flying Dutchman_ gains port and
finds a peaceful ending as a reward for his self-sacrifice in
surrendering the woman for whom he first sinned. This woman,
according to the Belasco play, is a reincarnated image of the wife
of the Dutchman left in Amsterdam nearly two centuries before when
he sailed away on that cruise around Cape Horn. Thus we find that
the elements of mystery and of the supernatural are the main pivots
of the dramatic action. To visualize them by stage investiture and
amply to suggest them in action are tasks that few producers or
actors would care to undertake.... There is [in the dramatic story]
a romance, but it is so wrapped up in the mystery of other
centuries, and perhaps is not always so clear in the philosophy of
reincarnation, as to be appreciably understood. These are points
about which there may be sound differences of opinion, but on a
first hearing they seem, as a final result, to leave the play shorn
of diverse interest and therefore somewhat monotonous in its
appeal.
“But it is a weird and deeply interesting play in the compactness
of the story and in its dramatic rendition. The fabric is so
delicate that if it were not staged and played with the utmost care
and good taste it might easily fall to pieces.... Mr. Warfield
demonstrates afresh the fine, sympathetic quality of his acting.
This
[Illustration:
Photograph by Charlotte Fairchild. Belasco’s Collection.
INA CLARE AS _POLLY SHANNON_, IN “POLLY WITH A PAST”]
_rôle_ is absolutely foreign to anything else he has ever done, and
by the power of his personality and the care of his delineation he
makes the part of the ill-fated sailor throb with sympathy and
meaning. In makeup he emphasizes the poetic quality underlying the
character.... In staging this play Belasco handles his lights as a
great symphony conductor plays with instruments, bending them to
his will and making them set the color of the entire play. The
three acts are set with marvellous care. An old ship sail acts as
the front drop curtain, and throughout the play the atmosphere is
almost made to drip with salt water. One act is in a harbor;
another, on board the ship of _The Flying Dutchman_, and the third
is a beautiful little delph setting that is like some old picture
of Hollandese ware. In the stage effects, such as wind, thunder,
and lightning, Belasco can make old devices seem an echo of Nature
herself.... The music of the stage is ghostly and haunting....”
“Van Der Decken” was played with the following cast:
_Van Der Decken_ David Warfield.
_Nicholas Staats_ Ernest Stallard.
_Mate Jacob Te Beckel_ William Boag.
_Jansoon Kolp_ Fritz Lieber.
_Petie Vieck_ Fred Graham.
_Raff Kloots_ Harold Russell.
_Rudie Schimmelpennick_ Horace Braham.
SAILORS ABOARD THE FLYING DUTCHMAN’S SHIP “BATAVIA.”
_Kris_ Arthur Fitzgerald.
_Bram_ Herbert Ayling.
_Hein_ Worthington L. Romaine.
_Hans_ J. J. Williams.
_Prinz_ Lawrence Woods.
_Klass_ Edward L. Walton.
_Jan Tanjes_ Bert Hyde.
_Pilot Krantz_ Tony Bevan.
_Boatman_ Oren Roberts.
_Trintie Staats_ Jane Cooper.
_Johanna_ Marie Bates.
_A Little Boy_ Master MacComber.
“POLLY WITH A PAST.”
“Polly with a Past” is a merry though thin piece of farcical fooling,
which owes its exceptional success--it has already run nearly an entire
season in New York--to the attractiveness of the setting provided for it
by Belasco and to the earnestness and zest with which it is played. It
was written by Messrs. George Middleton and Guy Bolton and then
rewritten under the direction of Belasco. Its plot is conventional,
though familiar stage figures and time-tried devices are handled in it
with considerable breezy dexterity. _Polly Shannon_, an orphan, the
daughter of a poor clergyman of East Gilead, Ohio, desires to study
music in Paris. She makes her way as far as New York and there, having
no money, she secures employment as cook and waitress in the service of
two young bachelors, _Harry Richardson_ and _Clay Collum_. A friend of
theirs, _Rex Van Zile_, is violently in love with a young woman, _Myrtle
Davis_, whose purpose in life is the reformation of the abandoned waifs
of society. _Myrtle’s_ attitude toward _Rex_ is aloof and cool and he
despairs of winning her. _Harry_ and _Clay_, who have heard the story of
their pretty little servant and become interested in her, seek her
counsel. _Polly_, premising that though a minister’s daughter she is
familiar with French novels, suggests that the best way for _Rex_ to win
_Myrtle’s_ love is for him to pretend to become the helplessly
fascinated victim of a notorious Parisian adventuress. Finally, after
much persuasion, _Polly_ agrees to assume the part of the adventuress
and, introduced into the ultra-respectable _Van Zile_ home, she does so
with such entire success that not only is _Myrtle_ inspired with jealous
interest but that _Rex_ is really charmed by her winning ways and
transfers his affections to her. Various complications occur, incident
to the attainment of this result--all of them amusing although
transparently artificial in contrivance--and as a whole the
representation provides an unusually agreeable entertainment.
“Polly with a Past” was first acted at the Apollo Theatre, Atlantic
City, on June 11, 1917; and, after a brief fall tour, it was produced at
the Belasco Theatre, New York, on September 6, with the following cast:
_Harry Richardson_ Cyril Scott.
_Rex Van Zile_ Herbert Yost.
_Prentice Van Zile_ H. Reeves-Smith.
_Stiles_ William Sampson.
_Clay Collum_ George Stewart Christie.
_A Stranger_ Robert Fischer.
_Commodore “Bob” Barker_ Thomas Reynolds.
_Polly Shannon_ Ina Claire.
_Mrs. Martha Van Zile_ Winifred Fraser.
_Myrtle Davis_ Anne Meredith.
_Mrs. Clementine Davis_ Louise Galloway.
_Parker_ Mildred Dean.
Excellent performances were given in this farce, especially by Cyril
Scott,--a neat and skilful actor of pleasant personality, who bears
himself with more breezy jauntiness than most men half his age,--H.
Reeves-Smith and William Sampson, both experienced and accomplished
players of the old school, and by Miss Ina Claire, a talented young
actress, who, as _Polly Shannon_, made her first appearance on the
legitimate stage in it. Belasco’s attention was first directed to her
during the season of 1915-’16 when, as one of the performers in a
vaudeville, she sang a song called “Poor Little Marie-Odile” in which he
was severely lampooned. He attended her performance, was favorably
impressed by her singing and imitations, and engaged her. Miss Claire is
pretty, extraordinarily self-poised, an expert mimic, has a good stage
presence, is able to assume effectively a demure manner, and she played
_Polly_ with spirit, humor, and at least one touch of feeling.
“TIGER ROSE.”
“Tiger Rose” was written by Willard Mack and then rewritten under
Belasco’s direction and with his assistance. It was first produced at
the Shubert Theatre, Wilmington, Delaware, on April 30, 1917: on October
3, that year, it was produced at the Lyceum Theatre, New York, where it
is still current (June, 1918) and where it bids fair to remain for many
weeks. It is a picturesque and effective melodrama, in four acts (the
third being presented as practically an undetached continuation of the
second), the scene of which is a frontier post in the Canadian
Northwest. The action of that play revolves around the love affair of a
French-Canadian girl named _Rose Bocion_. She is an orphan and the ward
of _Hector MacCollins_, a conventionally austere yet kindly Scotchman, a
factor of the Hudson Bay Trading Company, in whose dwelling three of the
acts take place. The girl, a lovely flower of the forest, is admired and
courted by all the youth for many a mile around, including a capable
but dissolute Irishman, _Constable Michael Devlin_, of the Royal North
Western Mounted Police. _Rose_, however, will have none of them,--for
she and _Bruce Norton_, a young civil engineer from a neighboring
construction camp, have met by chance and have become lovers. _Norton_,
in the camp where he is employed, unexpectedly encounters and kills a
man who, years earlier, had first misled and then deserted his sister, a
married woman, who in consequence committed suicide. _Norton_ makes his
escape into the wilderness and seeks to communicate with _Rose_, his
only friend, hoping to obtain her help in getting clear of the region.
An Indian squaw employed in the factor’s household bears a message and
eventually he succeeds in reaching the girl. But information of his
crime has been transmitted to _MacCollins’_ dwelling, by telephone,
where it is received by _Devlin_. That blackguard, who has been made
furious by _Rose’s_ bitterly contemptuous repulse of his dishonorable
advances and who has surmised the identity of her lover with the
fugitive, is vigilantly watchful, hoping to gratify his jealous hatred
while in the performance of his duty. During the interview between
_Norton_ and _Rose_ she detects the stealthy approach of _Devlin_,
tracking him. After making a tryst with him at a remote
[Illustration:
Photograph by Abbe. Collection of Jefferson Winter.
LENORE ULRIC AS _ROSE_, IN “TIGER ROSE”]
and abandoned log cabin in the woods, she has barely time to hide her
lover in a huge old grand-father’s clock, in the factor’s house. From
that precarious concealment _Norton_ escapes, down a trapdoor in the
floor, under cover of the dreadful tumult of an appalling electrical
storm (most realistically and impressively managed in Belasco’s
presentment) and, eventually, makes his way to the appointed meeting
place. There, during the next night, he is joined by _Rose_ and a kindly
physician, _Dr. Cusick_, who has discovered her attachment and who,
somewhat unwillingly, has consented to assist in the escape of her
sweetheart. Various explanations are exchanged and it is revealed that
_Dr. Cusick_ (that being an assumed name) is actually the wronged
husband of _Norton’s_ sister and has been for years seeking to find and
kill the man slain by him. After the family misfortunes have been
discussed and an understanding arrived at and after plans for the escape
of _Norton_ out of the Dominion have been devised and arranged by the
intrepid _Rose_, the trio are about to separate when the ubiquitous
_Devlin_, who has divined their resort to the ruined cabin, has
concealed himself there and listened to their conversation, suddenly
emerges from his hiding place and, “covering” the culprit with a pistol,
arrests him. _Rose_, however, abruptly extinguishes the only light in
the cabin, at the same instant shooting the weapon out of _Devlin’s_
hand and crying to her love to fly--which he does. _Devlin_ makes an
attempt to follow him, striking down and stunning _Cusick_, but, being
unarmed, is stopped by _Rose_ at the pistol point. Then, throughout the
night she holds him there. With dawn, however, _Norton_, who has
realized the predicament in which his escape will leave his sweetheart,
returns, accompanied by a Jesuit priest whom he has met--and, as _Rose_
will not submit to the removal of her lover to Edmonton, there to stand
trial alone, but insists on an immediate marriage to him, the play ends
with impending matrimony and the implication that _Dr. Cusick_, who, it
appears has “done the State some service,” will succeed in his declared
intention of appealing to the legal authorities for lenient treatment of
_Norton_,--an intention, by the way, which indicates a touching
ignorance of the operation of criminal law in the region specified.
All this, if sometimes false to the probabilities of actual life, is
always responsive to the purposes of acting, and, as presented by
Belasco,--with scrupulous care to every aspect of the stage setting and
to every detail of the stage management and with an unusually capable
company,--the melodrama merits the success it has achieved. The central
character is, of course, _Rose Bocion_,--who, with euphonious disregard
of gender, is called _Tiger Rose_. This girl is headstrong, impulsive,
and intense, she indulges with excessive freedom in violent expletives,
and she fights hard for the man she loves. But there is nothing
tiger-like in her conduct or her character. On the contrary, _Rose_, is
winsome, brave, loyal, ardent, resourceful and utterly sincere, devoted
and unselfish in her love. However, the name makes a striking title for
the play. Miss Lenore Ulric, who acts the part, is possessed of
exceptional natural advantages,--youth; a handsome face; abundant hair;
expressive eyes, dark and beautiful; a slender, lithe figure; a
sympathetic voice; strong, attractive personality, and an engaging
manner. Her temperament is intense, her nature passionate, her style
direct and simple. Her acting reveals force of character, experience,
observation, thought, sensibility, ardor, definite purpose, and unusual
command of the mechanics of art. It is, moreover, suffused with fervid,
sometimes ungoverned feeling (which is a defect), and it is at all times
sincere, individual, and interesting. She is an admirable listener, an
excellent speaker,--articulating with great care,--and, at moments (as,
for example, in a colloquy with _Father Tibault_ as to belief in Diety),
the disposition she exhibits in this performance seems altogether
childlike and lovely. Under Belasco’s sagacious direction she should go
far.
CAST OF “TIGER ROSE.”
_Hector MacCollins_ Thomas Findlay.
_Dan Cusick, M.D._ William Courtleigh.
_Constable Michael Devlin, R.N.W.M.P._ Willard Mack.
_Bruce Norton_ Calvin Thomas.
_Father Thibault_ Fuller Mellish.
_Pierre La Bey_ Pedro De Cordoba.
_George Lantry_ Edwin Holt.
_Old Tom_ Edward Mack.
_Constable Haney_ Arthur J. Wood.
_Mak-a-low_ Chief Whitehawk.
_Wa-Wa_ Jean Ferrell.
_Rose Bocion_ Lenore Ulric.
[Illustration:
Photograph by Arnold Genthe. Collection of Jefferson Winter.
DAVID BELASCO--HIS LATEST PORTRAIT, 1918]
CHRONOLOGY
CHRONOLOGY OF THE LIFE OF DAVID BELASCO
HUMPHREY ABRAHAM BELASCO, BORN, LONDON, ENGLAND, DECEMBER 26, 1830.
REINA MARTIN BELASCO, BORN, LONDON, ENGLAND, APRIL 24. 1830.
1853.
July.
25. DAVID BELASCO, eldest child of Humphrey
Abraham, and Reina Martin, Belasco, was
BORN, in a house in Howard Street, near
Third Street, San Francisco, California.
1858. While David Belasco was a little child,--apparently
about 1858,--his parents removed
to Victoria, Island of Vancouver, B. C., taking
him with them.
In the latter part of 185(8?) he was “carried
on,” at the Theatre Royal, Victoria, as
_Cora’s Child_, in “Pizarro,”--Julia Dean
(Hayne) being the _Cora_. Later he played
the child in “Metamora,” when Edwin Forrest
filled an engagement in Victoria.
186(2?). About 1862 he appeared with Julia Dean
(Hayne), in “East Lynne,” as _Little William_.
1864. In the latter part of 1864 he played the
little _Duke of York_, in “King Richard III.,”
with Charles Kean, at the Theatre Royal,
Victoria.
1865-1871. In 1865 (March-April?) the elder Belasco
removed with his family to San Francisco,
California, and there established his permanent
residence. As a boy, in that city, Belasco
attended several schools, chief among them the
Lincoln Grammar School. During part of
this period the Belasco home was in Louisa
Street, then in Bryant Street, afterward it
was in Clara Street.
1871.
March.
17. At the Metropolitan Theatre, San Francisco,
Belasco appeared as an _Indian Chief_
in Professor Hager’s “Great Historical Allegory,
‘The Great Republic,’”--which was
several times repeated, for the benefit of the
schools whose pupils participated in the
performance: in the Second Part thereof he
personated _War_.
April.
15. He appeared, in Hager’s “The Great
Republic,” at Sacramento, California.
June.
2. (Friday Evening.) He took part in a
series of public “competitive declamations”
(reciting “The Maniac”), by pupils of the
Lincoln Grammar School, at Platt’s Hall,
San Francisco. On same occasion he
appeared as _Highflyer Nightshade_, in “The
Freedom of the Press.”
7. At the Metropolitan Theatre, revival of
Hager’s “The Great Republic,” in which he
again appeared as an _Indian Chief_, and as
_War_.
22. He appeared as _Fornechet_, _Minister of Finance_,
in a presentment of Sutter’s “Life’s
Revenge,” by the Fire-Fly Social and Dramatic
Club, at Turnverein Hall, Bush Street,
near Powell, San Francisco.
July.
10. BELASCO’S FIRST REGULAR APPEARANCE on
the professional stage,--as a super, with
Joseph Murphy, in “Help,” at the Metropolitan
Theatre. Subsequently he was given a
small part, a few words to speak, in this
play. “Help” was played till July 16, Sunday
night.
19. “Help” revived at Metropolitan Theatre.
22. End of Murphy’s engagement in “Help.”
1872.
July.
22. He played _Bloater_, in “Maum Cre” (then
first acted in San Francisco), with Joseph
Murphy, at the Metropolitan Theatre.
December.
16. He appeared at the Metropolitan Theatre,
San Francisco, with Minnie Wells (not
Mary Wells), in “The Lion of Nubia” (not
Lioness), as _Lieutenant Victor_: on this occasion
he was billed as Walter Kingsley.
1873.
February.
23. He played _Peter Bowbells_ in “The Illustrious
Stranger,” in a Benefit Performance,
for Marion Mordaunt, at the Metropolitan
Theatre.
March.
5. “Grand Reopening of the Metropolitan
Theatre,” under direction of John R.
Woodard: cheap prices: The Chapman
Sisters, in H. J. Byron’s “Little Don
Giovanni.” Belasco played the _First Policeman_.
18. He played _Prince Saucilita_ (giving burlesque
of a local character known as
“Emperor” Norton), in “The Gold Demon,”
with the Chapman Sisters, at the Metropolitan
Theatre.
21. He played _Strale_, in “Checkmate,” with the
Chapmans, at the Metropolitan.
April.
2. (One night only.) He played _Reuben_, in
“Schermerhorn’s Boy,” and _Strale_, in “Checkmate,”
with the Chapmans, at the Academy
of Music, Oakland, California.
3. At the Metropolitan, San Francisco, he
appeared, with the Chapmans, as the _Genius_
_of the Ring_, in “The Wonderful Scamp; or,
Aladdin No. 2,” and as _Peter True_, in “The
Statue Lover.”
9. He played the _First Fury_, in “Pluto,” with
the Chapmans, at the Metropolitan.
18. Revival of “Little Don Giovanni” at the
[Illustration:
Photograph by Harris & Ewing. Belasco’s Collection.
BELASCO LEADING THE PARADE OF “THE LAMBS” UP PENNSYLVANIA AVENUE,
WASHINGTON, D. C.
INSCRIPTION:
“The first time I ‘paraded’ into town since my old days in the
West, when I used to bang the cymbals and pound the drum!”--D. B.
]
Metropolitan: Belasco as the _First Policeman_.
28. Last regular performance at the Metropolitan
Theatre, San Francisco. The Chapman
Sisters in “Cinderella,”--produced 23.
May.
3. He played with the Chapman Sisters, in
“Little Don Giovanni,” in Sacramento.
Later he appeared, with the Chapman Sisters,
in several California towns.
August.
18. He played _Bloater_, in “Maum Cre,” with
Joseph Murphy, at Shiels’ Opera House, San
Francisco.
25. He played _Bob Rackett_, in “Help,” with
Murphy, at Shiels’.
26. At the home of his parents, No. 174 Clara
Street, San Francisco, California, David
Belasco and Cecilia Loverich were married.
September.
1. At Shiels’ Opera House he played _Baldwin_,
with Murphy, in “Ireland and America”:
Same bill, September 2, 6, and 7. “Maum
Cre” 3, 4, and 5.
10. He played _Harvey_, in “Out at Sea,” with
Laura Alberta, at Shiels’ Opera House.
20. He played _Sambo_, in “Uncle Tom’s
Cabin,” to the _Topsy_ of Laura Alberta, at
Shiels’.
25. “Twice Saved; or, Bertha the Midget,” was
acted at the Opera House (formerly Shiels’,
subsequently Gray’s) and Belasco played
_Major Hershner_.
29. He acted _Spada_, in Stirling Coyne’s “The
Woman in Red,” with Fanny Cathcart, at
the Opera House. (That house was first
billed as Gray’s Opera House, on October 3,
and “The Woman in Red” was played there
till October 5.)
October.
6. Belasco played at Gray’s Opera House, as
_Darley_, with Fanny Cathcart and George
Darrell, in “Dark Deeds.”
18. Benefit performance, at Gray’s Opera
House, to James Dunbar: Belasco acted
_Mons. Voyage_, in Third Act of “Ireland as
It Was.”
October-November, _et seq._
He went to Virginia City, Nevada, where he
became a member of the stock company at
Piper’s Opera House.
1874.
March.
1-7? Belasco returned to San Francisco from
Virginia City.
10. Engagement of Adelaide Neilson in San
Francisco began at the California Theatre,--Miss
Neilson making her first appearance
there in “Romeo and Juliet.” Belasco participated
in all the performances given during
that engagement,--which ended on March
30,--as a super and helper about the stage.
May.
4. Grand Opening of Maguire’s New Theatre,
San Francisco, (the old Alhambra, rebuilt and
altered),--“The Entire Lingard Combination,”
Wiliam Horace Lingard, Dicky Dunning,
Alice Lingard, etc., appearing in
“Creatures of Impulse,” “Mr. and Mrs.
Peter White,” and a miscellaneous entertainment.
June-September.
Belasco worked as a copyist, etc., for
Barton Hill, at the California Theatre
and played minor parts (not recorded)
at Maguire’s New Theatre. Also, he
made several brief excursions as a “barnstormer”
to small towns of California and
Nevada.
September.
(14?). Belasco became attached to Maguire’s New
Theatre as assistant stage manager and
prompter, actor of small parts, hack playwright,
and secretary and messenger to
Thomas Maguire. In this employment he
came into association with James A. Herne,
Thomas Whiffen, Annette Ince, Ella Kemble,
Sydney Cowell, etc. He remained there for
about four months.
October.
12. He played the _Dwarf_ in “Rip Van Winkle”
at Maguire’s,--Herne being _Rip_.
December.
24. Belasco played _Pietro_ and _Galeas_, in the
prologue and drama of “The Enchantress,”
at Maguire’s New Theatre.
1875.
January to (May?).
Belasco was “barnstorming” with a Miss
Rogers, originally a school teacher, who obtained
financial support and starred in a
repertory including “East Lynne,” “Camille,”
“Frou Frou,” and “Robert Macaire.” Miss
Rogers’ tour began in Portland, Oregon, and
continued through small towns along the Big
Bear and Little Bear rivers. It proved a
failure and the company was disbanded,--Miss
Rogers and Belasco, however, continued
to appear together for several weeks,
presenting one-act plays such as “A Happy
Pair” and “A Conjugal Lesson.”
June.
--. He was in San Francisco.
July.
4. He participated, as assistant to James H.
Le Roy, in stage management of a benefit
performance, for Frank Rea, at Maguire’s
New Opera House.
August.
4. He assisted, in various ways, in a presentation
at the California Theatre of “The
Bohemian,” in which George Ceprico (amateur)
appeared as _Edmund Kean_.
7. Production at the California Theatre of
[a variant, by Belasco?] Le Roy’s version
of “The New Magdalen,”--Ellie Wilton playing
_Mercy Merrick_.
8. “Lost in London” was presented at
Maguire’s New Theatre, at Belasco’s suggestion
[acted according to a prompt book
or “version” prepared by him?].
November.
17. Benefit, to “Sam” Wetherill, at Maguire’s
New Theatre,--stage management of Belasco.
December.
6. Belasco played a subsidiary part in “The
Jealous Wife,” in a performance (“last night
of the season”) at Maguire’s, for the benefit
of Katy Mayhew.
13. C. R. Thorne’s Palace Theatre (formerly
Wilson’s Amphitheatre), corner Montgomery
and Mission streets, San Francisco, was
opened, with “Gaspardo; or, The Three Banished
Men of Milan,” and Belasco appeared
in it as _Santo_, _a Monk_.
21. He played _Signor Mateo_, in “The Miser’s
Daughter.”
24. He played _Selim_, in “The Forty Thieves,”
at Thorne’s Palace Theatre.
30. He played _Gilbert Gates_, in “The Dawn of
Freedom,” at the same house. Thorne closed
his theatre, suddenly, December 31.
1876.
January.
7. The Palace Theatre was reopened, as the
Palace Opera House, under management of
Colonel J. H. Wood, presenting Frank Jones
in “The Black Hand; or, The Lost Will,”
in which Belasco played _Bob_, _a Policeman_.
That engagement lasted for about three
weeks, at the end of which time, apparently,
he went back to Maguire’s New Theatre.
March.
6. Opening of Baldwin’s Academy of Music,
San Francisco. Thomas Maguire, proprietor.
James A. Herne, stage manager. David
Belasco, assistant stage manager and
prompter. Bill: Barry Sullivan, in “King
Richard III.,”--Belasco played _Ratcliff_.
11. Sullivan revived “The Wonder,” at Baldwin’s,
and Belasco played in it as _Vasquez_.
13. Sullivan acted in “Hamlet,” at Baldwin’s:
Belasco played _Bernardo_ and the _Second Actor_.
16. Sullivan presented “Richelieu,” at Baldwin’s,
and Belasco appeared as one of the
_Secretaries_.
20. Played the _First Officer_, in “Macbeth,”
with Sullivan, at Baldwin’s.
23. Played the _Waiter_, in “The Gamester,”
with Sullivan as _Beverley_.
27. Played the _Duke of Burgundy_, in “King
Lear,” with Sullivan, at Baldwin’s.
29. Played a _Messenger_, in “Othello,” with
Sullivan, at Baldwin’s.
31. Played _Salarino_, in “The Merchant of
Venice,” with Sullivan, at Baldwin’s.
April.
5. Played the _Lieutenant_, in “Don Cæsar de
Bazan,” with Sullivan, at Baldwin’s.
7. Played _Furnace_, in “A New Way to Pay
Old Debts.”
10. Played _Marco_, in “The Wife.”
16. End of Barry Sullivan’s engagement at
Baldwin’s Academy of Music, “King Richard
III.” Belasco played _Ratcliff_.
18. Mrs. James A. Oates began an engagement
in Opera at Baldwin’s, and Belasco, with
other members of the dramatic stock company,
returned to Maguire’s New Theatre
(whence they had come to Baldwin’s), where
they supported Baker and Farron, in “Heinrich
and Hettie.”
May-June--part of July.
Belasco went “barnstorming.”
July.
23. He played _DeMilt_, in “Under the Gas-Light,”
in a benefit, by John McCullough and
others, for E. J. Buckley, at the California
Theatre.
September.
4. Edwin Booth began an eight weeks’ engagement
in San Francisco (the first in twenty
years), at the California Theatre, in “Hamlet,”
“Richelieu,” “Othello,” etc., and Belasco
was employed as a supernumerary in his company.
October.
--. Belasco was employed by James M. Ward
as stage manager and playwright, at the
Grand Opera House.
16. He appeared with Ward and Winnetta
Montague, at the Grand Opera House, in
“The Willing Hand.”
22. He appeared at Baldwin’s, as _Doctor of the_
_Hospital_, in “The Two Orphans,” for benefit
of Katy Mayhew.
1877.
February.
16. He appeared at Egyptian Hall (No. 22
Geary Street, near Kearny), in association
with Frank Gardner and his wife (Carrie
Swan), acting _The Destroyer_, in “The
Haunted House,”--a play written by himself,--_Valentine_,
in an abridgment of “Faust,”
and _Mr. Trimeo_, in “The Mysterious Inn.”
The presentments at Egyptian Hall were
all built around a variant of the “Pepper’s
Ghost” illusion.
17. At Egyptian Hall he appeared as _Avica_,
_Spirit of Avarice_, in “A Storm of Thoughts”;
_Phil Bouncer_, in “The Persecuted Traveller,”
and as _The Destroyer_, in “The Haunted
House.”
20. At Egyptian Hall “Our Mysterious Boarding
House” was presented, in which he played
_Our Guest_, replacing “The Persecuted Traveller,”
in bill as on 17.
April.
2. Same place, he played _Mark_, in “The
Prodigal’s Return,” as well as _Avica_ and
_Our Guest_, as above.
The engagement of the Gardners and
Belasco at Egyptian Hall continued for eight
weeks.
Other plays which Belasco recalls having
written for presentation there are “Wine,
Women, and Cards” and “The Christmas
Night; or, The Convict’s Return.” I have
not, however, found _record_ of the presentation
of them. During that engagement at Egyptian
Hall, Belasco also gave several recitations,
including “The Maiden’s Prayer,”
with musical accompaniment, and “Little
Jim.”
May-July.
Belasco acted with Gardiner and his wife,
in various cities and towns of California and
the Pacific Slope, in the plays above mentioned.
August.
18. Belasco played _John O’Bibs_, in Boucicault’s
“The Long Strike” (billed as “The
Great Strike”), and the _Earl of Oxford_, in
the Fifth Act of “King Richard III.,” in a
benefit for A. D. Billings, at the California
Theatre, San Francisco.
September.
24. A theatrical company, from the California
Theatre, San Francisco, under the management
of Thomas W. Keene, of which Belasco
was stage manager, began a “Fair week”
engagement at the Petaluma Theatre, Petaluma,
California. Bill: “The Lady of
Lyons,” in which Belasco played _Monsieur Deschapelles_;
and “The Young Widow,” in
which he played _Mandeville_.
25. Same engagement: “The Hidden Hand,”
Belasco playing _Craven Lenoir_; and “Robert
Macaire,” in which he played _Pierre_.
26. Same. “The Wife,” Belasco as _Lorenzo_;
and “My Turn Next,” Belasco as _Tom Bolus_.
27. Same. “The Streets of New York,”
Belasco as _Dan_; and “The Rough Diamond,”
Belasco as _Captain Blenham_.
28. Same. “Deborah,” Belasco as _Peter_; and
“Solon Shingle” (“The People’s Lawyer”),
Belasco as _Lawyer Tripper_.
Same. Benefit of Keene. “The Ticket-of-Leave
Man,” Belasco acted one of the subsidiary
parts.
October.
--. Belasco joined the Frayne Troupe, at Humboldt,
Oregon, opening as _Mrs. Willoughby_,
in “The Ticket-of-Leave Man.” This engagement
lasted about three months.
1878.
January.
4. He played at the Opera House, San José,
as a member of the Frayne Troupe (Frank
I. Frayne, manager), comprising also M. B.
Curtis, H. M. Brown, E. N. Thayer, Mrs.
Harry Courtaine, Gertrude Granville, and
Miss Fletcher.
He played in many Pacific Slope towns and
cities with this company.
January-March.
He returned to San Francisco and performed
miscellaneous theatrical drudgery.
March.
4. Belasco played _James Callin_, and _Pablo_,
_an Italian Harpist_, in the prologue and
drama of “Across the Continent,” with Oliver
Doud Byron, at the Bush Street Theatre,
San Francisco. (Six nights: revival, March
18 to 23.)
26. The New York Union Square Company
acted at the Baldwin Theatre, San Francisco,
in “Agnes,” and Belasco appeared with it, as
the valet, _Rudolphe_.
April.
8. “One Hundred Years Old” was acted at
the Baldwin Theatre, Belasco playing the
servant, _Louis_.
15. “Saratoga” was acted at the Baldwin,
Belasco playing _Gyp_.
25. “A Celebrated Case” was revived at the
Baldwin, Belasco playing a subsidiary part.
May, _et seq._
Belasco travelled with the Union Square
Theatre Company, as stage manager, during
a tour of towns and cities of California, Oregon,
etc. At the end of that tour he received
a memorable tribute from the members of the
company: see page 106.
July.
8. Boucicault’s “The Octoroon,” “retouched
and rearranged” by Belasco, was revived at
the Baldwin Theatre.
September.
2. Belasco’s version of “The Vicar of Wakefield,”
entitled (like Wills’ version) “Olivia,”
was produced for the first time at the
Baldwin Theatre, San Francisco, Rose Wood
acting _Olivia_, A. D. Bradley _Dr. Primrose_,
James O’Neill _Mr. Barchell_, and Lewis Morrison
_Squire Thornhill_.
October.
14. An alteration by Belasco of Wills’ “A
Woman of the People” was acted at the Baldwin.
28. Belasco’s “Proof Positive” was acted at the
Baldwin.
November.
4. Clara Morris began her first San Francisco
engagement at the Baldwin, Belasco being
the stage manager.
December.
23. “Not Guilty,” by Watts Phillips, revised
by Belasco, and produced under his direction,
was acted for the first time in San Francisco,
at the Baldwin Theatre: notable success.
1879.
January.
--. Belasco resigned his position at the Baldwin
Theatre and rewrote his play of “The
Lone Pine” for Denman Thompson. He disagreed
with Thompson and his manager, J.
M. Hill, and his play was not produced.
February.
--. Belasco was re-employed as stage manager,
etc., at the Baldwin.
6. He played _Colonel Dent_, in “The Governess,”
with Clara Morris, at the Baldwin
Theatre (one night only: farewell of Miss
Morris).
17. Belasco’s dramatization of Gaboriau’s
“Within an Inch of His Life” was acted for
the first time at the Grand Opera House:
notable success.
March.
1. “Within an Inch of His Life” was withdrawn.
3. The first presentation of Salmi Morse’s
“The Passion Play” was made at the Grand
Opera House, San Francisco, under the stage
management of Belasco and “Harry” Brown,--James
O’Neill appearing in it as _Jesus Christ_.
11. “The Passion Play” was withdrawn at the
Grand Opera House.
April.
15. Revival of “The Passion Play” at the
Grand Opera House.
20-21. An injunction prohibiting further presentation
of “The Passion Play” was issued,
and, that being disregarded, O’Neill and his
associates were arrested (21st): O’Neill was
imprisoned, and later he was fined $50 and
his associates $5 each, for contempt of
court.
May.
5. An adaptation of Sardou’s “La Famille
Benoiton!” entitled “A Fast Family,” made
by Belasco, was played at the Baldwin.
19. At the Baldwin Belasco acted the old man,
_Timothy Tubbs_, in his play of “The Millionaire’s
Daughter,” which was then first
presented,--five nights: revival May 26 to 31.
June.
2. Rose Coghlan, engaged at Belasco’s request,
began her first engagement in San Francisco,
at the Baldwin, playing _Lady Gay_, in “London
Assurance.”
30. First performance of “Marriage by Moonlight”
(afterward renamed “The Moonlight
Marriage”), by Belasco and James A.
Herne, occurred at the Baldwin Theatre.
July.
13. (Sunday night.) Special benefit for Belasco
and James A. Herne, at the Baldwin:
“The Moonlight Marriage” and “Rip Van
Winkle.”
15. First performance of Belasco’s version of
“L’Assommoir,” based on Zola’s novel, was
made at the Baldwin, with an “all-star company,”--Rose
Coghlan, Lillian Andrews, Jean
Clara Walters, O’Neill, Morrison, Herne, etc.,
being in the cast.
September.
9. At Baldwin’s Theatre, San Francisco, first
production of “Chums” (“Hearts of Oak”),
by David Belasco and James A. Herne.
21. (Sunday.) Last performance of “Chums”
at Baldwin’s. Failure.
October.
6. Herne-Belasco partnership presented
“Chums” at Salt Lake City.
Other places were visited. The business was
bad. Failure. “Chums” was closed, and company
disbanded.
Belasco, Herne and his wife (Katharine
Corcoran) went to Chicago and lodged at the
old Sherman House.
November.
17. First performance in Chicago, at Hamlin’s
Theatre (formerly the Coliseum?), of
“Hearts of Oak” (“Chums”). Notable success.
30. “Hearts of Oak” closed at Hamlin’s.
December.
1. Belasco-Herne Company appeared in Cincinnati.
20. (About) Belasco-Herne Company was
playing “Hearts of Oak” in Indianapolis.
A version of “The Mariner’s Compass” (on
which “Hearts of Oak” was built) was presented
in cities of the Middle West, under the
name of “Oaken Hearts,” to trade on the success
of the Belasco-Herne title: unauthorized
use of that title was stopped by legal action
taken by Herne in courts of Michigan in
May, 1880.
1880.
March.
15. “Hearts of Oak” was acted at Hooley’s
Theatre, return engagement, till March 27.
29. “Hearts of Oak” was performed for first
time in New York, at the New Fifth Avenue
Theatre--untruthfully announced as “by
James A. Herne.” Failure. During this
engagement Herne was several times incapacitated
to perform and Belasco appeared in his
place as _Terry Dennison_.
April.
16. Last performance of first “Hearts of Oak”
engagement in New York.
Belasco and Herne took their play to the
Arch Street Theatre, Philadelphia. There
Herne quarrelled with Belasco and bought his
half-interest in the play for $1500, which he
did not pay till several years later.
Belasco returned to New York, seeking
employment, but could not obtain it. He
then made his way, by various shifts, across
the continent, to his home in San Francisco.
June.
16. Belasco reached San Francisco, after his
disastrous experience with Herne and “Hearts
of Oak.”
He obtained immediate employment at the
Baldwin Theatre, where Adelaide Neilson was
then playing her farewell engagement (it began
on June 8). James H. Vinson and Robert
M. Eberle were, officially, the stage managers:
Belasco officiated as assistant stage manager
and as prompter, and, on July 17, he “rang
down” the curtain on _the last performance ever given_
by Miss Neilson:--_Juliet_, in Balcony
Scene from “Romeo and Juliet,” and _Amy Robsart_,
in the play of that name.
During this engagement at the Baldwin,
though actually he performed much important
labor, both as stage manager and as
writer and adapter of plays, Belasco’s acknowledged
position was wholly subsidiary: for
reasons of business expediency he again assumed,
for a time, use of the name Walter
Kingsley.
July.
19. His play of “Paul Arniff” was produced,
for the first time, at the Baldwin Theatre:
it is founded in part on “The Black Doctor.”
August.
16. John T. Malone made his first appearance
on the stage, acting _Richelieu_, at the Baldwin,
under the direction of Belasco.
30. A new version, by Belasco, of T. P.
Cooke’s “True to the Core” was acted at the
Baldwin.
November.
15. William E. Sheridan began his first San
Francisco engagement, at the Baldwin, during
which, under stage direction of Belasco, he
appeared in “King Louis XI.,” “Wild Oats,”
“The Lady of Lyons,” “The Merchant of
Venice,” etc., etc.
December.
28. First production in America of the once
famous melodrama of “The World” was made,
under Belasco’s direction, at the Baldwin
Theatre, San Francisco.
1881.
January.
17. Belasco’s “The Creole” (based on “Article
47”) was acted for the first time in
New York, at the Union Square Theatre,--Eleanor
Carey appearing in it as
_Diana_.
February.
6(?). Last performance of “The Creole” at the
Union Square Theatre.
March.
27. Belasco left San Francisco, with the Baldwin
Theatre stock company, for Portland,
Oregon.
April.
15. He returned from Portland and resumed
employment at the Baldwin Theatre.
July.
18. Belasco’s play of “La Belle Russe” was
anonymously produced, under his stage
direction, at the Baldwin Theatre, San
Francisco (first time anywhere), Miss
Jeffreys-Lewis, Osmond Tearle, and Gerald
Eyre acting the chief parts in it. Exceptional
success.
26. Belasco’s authorship of “La Belle Russe”
was announced, in advertisements of that
play.
30. Final performance, original run, of “La
Belle Russe,” at the Baldwin.
August.
15. At the Baldwin occurred the first performance
of Belasco’s dramatic epitome of
Adolphe Belot’s story, “The Stranglers of
Paris,” Osmond Tearle acting _Jagon_:
Belasco’s name was not made known at
this time as the stage-adapter of the
story.
September.
25. Belasco left San Francisco, with Maguire,
for the East, to arrange for the sale of his
play of “La Belle Russe.”
During his stay in New York, October-December,
this year, Belasco negotiated
regarding presentment of “La Belle Russe”
with Augustin Daly, John Stetson, A. M.
Palmer, and Lester Wallack. He finally sold
his interest in that play outright, to Frank
L. Goodwin, for $1500, a return ticket to
San Francisco, and $100 for travelling
expenses.
December.
25. Belasco reached San Francisco from New
York.
1882.
March.
7. First performance of Belasco’s spectacle
melodrama of “The Curse of Cain” occurred
at the Baldwin.
April.
16. End of Thomas Maguire’s control of the
Baldwin Theatre, San Francisco.
May.
8. First production in New York of Belasco’s
play of “La Belle Russe” was made at Wallack’s
Theatre,--Osmond Tearle and Rose
Coghlan playing the chief parts.
June.
12. A “sensation revival” of Belasco’s “retouched
and re-arranged” version of Boucicault’s
“The Octoroon,” introducing Callender’s
Colored Minstrels, was effected at the
Baldwin, under the stage direction of Belasco
and the management of Gustavo Frohman:
notable success.
July.
10. Belasco’s “American Born” was acted, for
the first time, at the Baldwin Theatre, San
Francisco,--Edward N. Marble being then
the lessee of that house.
--. First meeting of Belasco and Charles Frohman.
18(?). Belasco left San Francisco, travelling, as
stage manager, with the [Gustave] Frohman
Dramatic Company.
31. That company began an engagement in
Denver, Colo.,--at the end of which, apparently,
it was disbanded.
August.
16. Belasco’s “American Born” was successfully
produced, at the Grand Opera House,
Chicago, under the joint management of Gustave
and Charles Frohman.
October.
9. First production of “Young Mrs. Winthrop,”
by Bronson Howard, at the Madison
Square Theatre. This was the first play
produced at that theatre under the stage
management of Belasco, and the incident
marks his establishment in the Theatre of
New York.
The 100th performance of “Young Mrs.
Winthrop” occurred January 12, 1883: the
150th, March 5.
1883.
April.
7. Last performance (original “run”) of
“Young Mrs. Winthrop” at the Madison
Square Theatre.
9. First performance, by professional actors,
Madison Square Theatre, of “A Russian
Honeymoon,” by Mrs. Burton N. Harrison,
produced under stage management of
Belasco.
June.
4. Last performance of “A Russian Honeymoon”
and end of “the regular season” at
the Madison Square.
5. Beginning of the “summer season” at the
Madison Square, with first production of
“The Rajah; or, Wyncot’s Ward,” by William
N. Young, revised by Belasco, and produced
under his stage direction.
September.
1. 100th performance of “The Rajah” at the
Madison Square.
October.
31. 150th performance of “The Rajah.”
November.
12. At the New Park Theatre occurred the
first performance in New York of Belasco’s
melodrama (revised for the occasion) of
“The Stranglers of Paris,” which was produced
under the stage direction of the author
and the management of Charles Frohman:
Henry Lee appeared as _Jagon_.
December.
8. “The Rajah” was withdrawn at the Madison
Square.
10. At the Madison Square first production of
“Delmar’s Daughter; or, Duty”; by Henry
C. De Mille, under Belasco’s direction. It was
a failure and was withdrawn on the 15th.
17. “The Rajah” was revived at the Madison
Square.
1884.
January.
29. Last performance of “The Rajah.”
31. First New York performance, Madison
Square Theatre, of “Alpine Roses,” by H.
H. Boyesen; stage direction of Belasco.
Georgia Cayvan, Marie Burroughs, Eben
Plympton, and Richard Mansfield played the
chief parts in this drama.
April.
10. Last performance of “Alpine Roses.”
12. At the Madison Square Theatre, first production,
on any stage, of Belasco’s drama
of “May Blossom,” founded in part on his
earlier play of “Sylvia’s Lovers”: produced
under the stage direction of the
author.
July.
5. Belasco sailed for England, on board the
SS. Alaska, to witness performances of
“Called Back,” at the Haymarket Theatre,
London,--that play having been purchased
for production in America by the Mallory
brothers. First meeting of Belasco and author
occurred on this voyage.
19. He sailed for New York, on board the
SS. Alaska.
27. He arrived in New York.
August.
27. Public announcement by the Mallory
brothers that Albert Marshall Palmer had
become a partner in the management of the
Madison Square Theatre. Friction between
Belasco and Palmer, relative to management
of the stage, had arisen some time
earlier.
September.
1. First production in America of “Called
Back,” made by the Mallory brothers at the
Fifth Avenue Theatre, under the stage direction
of Belasco.
9. 150th performance of “May Blossom” at
the Madison Square Theatre.
27. Last performance of “May Blossom” at
the Madison Square Theatre.
29. A new policy was put into effect at the
Madison Square Theatre, under the influence
of Palmer, marked by the presentation, on
this date, of “The Private Secretary.”
This farce was placed on the stage almost
entirely under the direction of Frank
Thornton.
After the successful production of “Called
Back” at the Fifth Avenue Belasco resigned
his position as stage-manager of the Madison
Square Theatre company.
1885.
--. Belasco contemplated abandoning stage direction
and reverting to acting,--it being his
plan to appear at the head of a company
managed by himself as _Hamlet_ and in the central
part of a play he wished to write for his
own use.
He became acquainted with Steele Mackaye.
1886.
February.
15. At Wallack’s Theatre, New York, occurred
the first production on any stage of “Valerie,”
a play in three acts altered by Belasco
from Sardou’s “Fernande.”
March.
13. “Valerie” was withdrawn at Wallack’s.
May.
--. Belasco returned to San Francisco as stage
manager of Al. Hayman’s “all-star stock company.”
31. That company appeared, under his direction,
at the Baldwin Theatre, in a dramatization
of the novel of “Moths.”
June.
Hayman’s company acted at the Baldwin
under Belasco’s direction as follows:
7. In Belasco’s “Valerie.”
14. “The Marble Heart.”
21. “Anselma.”
24. “The Lady of Lyons.”
28. “Alone in London.”
July.
18. (Sunday night.) Belasco took a benefit
at the Baldwin Theatre, San Francisco: extraordinary
programme and great public enthusiasm.
26. He left San Francisco for New York, to
take up work there in connection with the
Lyceum Theatre.
September.
Belasco revised A. C. Gunter’s “A Wall
Street Bandit,”--which was produced at the
Standard Theatre, September 20.
18. Henry C. De Mille’s play of “The Main
Line; or, Rawson’s Y” was produced at the
Lyceum Theatre, under Belasco’s stage direction.
October.
18. May Fortesque (Finney) began an engagement
at the Lyceum, acting _Gretchen_, in
Gilbert’s “Faust”: Belasco officiated as stage
director throughout that engagement, during
which Miss Fortesque also acted as _Gilberte_,
in “Frou-Frou”; _Iolanthe_, in “King
Rene’s Daughter,” and _Jenny Northcott_ in
“Sweethearts.”
1887.
March.
23. Under Belasco’s direction, pupils of the
Lyceum Theatre School of Acting gave a
performance, at the Lyceum, of an English
translation of Molière’s “Les Précieuses
Ridicules.”
May.
3. First production, at the Lyceum Theatre,
of “The Highest Bidder,” made by Belasco
on the basis of a play called “Trade,”--which
was written by John Maddison Morton
and Robert Reece, for the elder Sothern.
Notable success.
July.
16. End of the original “run” of “The Highest
Bidder,” and close of the season at the
Lyceum Theatre.
August.
22. Revival of “The Highest Bidder” at the
Lyceum.
September.
12. “Pawn Ticket 210,” by Belasco and Clay
M. Greene, was produced by Lotta, at McVicker’s
Theatre, Chicago.
19. Cecil Raleigh’s farce, “The Great Pink
Pearl,” and Augustus Thomas’ one-act drama,
“Editha’s Burglar,” were produced, under
Belasco’s stage direction, at the Lyceum.
October.
24. At the Fourteenth Street Theatre “Baron
Rudolph,”--originally entitled “Only a
Tramp,”--by Bronson Howard, first rewritten
as well as renamed by Howard;
then, at Howard’s request, altered and
improved by Belasco, was produced, for the
first time in New York, by George S. Knight,--Charles
Frohman representing Knight in
the business management and Belasco stage
directing the performance. Failure: the
play was kept on the stage four weeks, to
bad business. (In its original form Knight
first presented “Baron Rudolph” in New
York, at the Windsor Theatre, October 17,
1881.)
November.
1. At the Lyceum occurred the first performance
on any stage of “The Wife,” by
Belasco and Henry C. DeMille.
19. “Baron Rudolph” was withdrawn at the
Fourteenth Street Theatre.
December.
--. During this month Belasco revised and
rectified William Gillette’s dramatization of
Haggard’s “She,”--which had been produced
at Niblo’s Garden on November 29. His work,
for which he received $1,000, made a popular
success of that spectacle.
1888.
June.
16. 239th consecutive performance of “The
Wife,” and close of the Lyceum Theatre.
August.
21. The Lyceum was reopened for the season
with first performance anywhere of Belasco
and De Mille’s “Lord Chumley.”
September.
11. Belasco’s revision of E. J. Schwartz’s “The
Kaffir Diamond” was produced at the Broadway
Theatre, New York, with Louis Aldrich
in the chief part. (Belasco was paid $300
for his work on this play.)
November.
11. --th and last performance at the Lyceum
of “Lord Chumley.”
1889.
March.
11. The fifth annual performance of the Academy
of Dramatic Art (formerly the New
York School of Acting) occurred at the
Lyceum Theatre, under the direction of
Belasco, Franklin H. Sargent, and Henry
C. De Mille,--pupils of that school appearing
in an English version of Sophocles’ “Electra.”
18. “The Marquis,” a version of Sardou’s
“Ferréol,” prepared by Belasco, was produced
under his stage direction at the Lyceum.
Failure.
29. Revival of Belasco-De Mille drama of “The
Wife,” at the Lyceum.
April.
29. A play by William Gillette, based on Mrs.
Humphry Ward’s novel of “Robert Elsmere”
and bearing the same name, was produced
at the Union Square Theatre under
the stage direction of Belasco--by special
arrangement with the directorate of the
Lyceum Theatre: Belasco received $500 for
his labor on this production.
May.
6. James Albery’s play of “Featherbrain”
(adapted from a French farce called “Tête de
Linotte”) was produced, under stage management
of Belasco, at the Madison Square Theatre--a
special company organized by Daniel
Frohman appearing in it.
18. Close of the season at the Lyceum.
(Month, date?) Belasco and De Mille
were commissioned to write a new play for
the season of 1889-’90, at the Lyceum.
--. First meeting of David Belasco and Mrs.
Leslie Carter.
September.
--. Mrs. Leslie Carter sought Belasco at
Echo Lake, New Jersey, and obtained his
promise to undertake her training for the
stage.
November.
19. First performance anywhere of “The
Charity Ball,” by Belasco and De Mille, stage
direction of the former.
This was the last play for the Lyceum
with which Belasco was concerned.
December.
--. Belasco, being in need of the use of a stage
for rehearsals of Mrs. Carter, agreed to revise
a play by Mrs. Abby Sage Richardson,
based on Mark Twain’s “The Prince and the
Pauper,” and to rehearse a company in it, on
the understanding that, as payment, he should
be permitted to rehearse Mrs. Carter on the
stage of the Lyceum Theatre.
1890.
January.
20. Belasco’s revision of “The Prince and the
Pauper” was acted at the Broadway Theatre,
Elsie Leslie appearing in it as Tom Canty
and as _Prince Edward of Wales_.
January-February.
Belasco was active in planning a play for
Mrs. Carter, called “The Heart of Maryland,”
in negotiation for its production under
the management of A. M. Palmer, and in
training of Mrs. Carter.
February.
26. The bargain between Daniel Frohman and
Belasco, for the latter to use the stage of
the Lyceum Theatre, was wrongfully abrogated
by the directors of that institution.
Belasco soon afterward resigned his place at
the Lyceum.
March.
27. Belasco ended his association with the
Lyceum Theatre.
May.
24. 200th performance of “The Charity Ball,”
and close of the Lyceum Theatre.
October.
21. A melodrama entitled “Men and Women,”
by Belasco and De Mille, was produced at
Proctor’s Twenty-third Street Theatre, by
Charles Frohman, under the stage direction
of Belasco: and, to accommodate Miss Annie
A. Adams, an old friend, Belasco wrote in
this play a small part for Miss Maude
Adams.
November.
10. Belasco, with E. D. Price as business manager
(the financial capital having been provided
by Mr. N. K. Fairbank, of Chicago),
presented Mrs. Leslie Carter, at the Broadway
Theatre, as a star, in a play by Mr.
Paul M. Potter, called “The Ugly Duckling”;
that was _Mrs. Carter’s first appearance on the stage_.
1891.
March.
14. End of tour of Mrs. Carter in “The Ugly
Duckling,” and of career of that play, in
Kansas City, Mo.
25. 200th consecutive performance of “Men
and Women” at Proctor’s Twenty-third
Street Theatre.
28. Last performance of “Men and Women,”--original
production.
April.
15. Belasco, Mrs. Carter, and Mrs. Dudley,
her mother, sailed for England, on board
SS. City of New York, and proceeded to
Paris, to see the French play with music
afterward presented in America as “Miss
Helyett.”
November.
3. “Miss Helyett,” a farce with music,
adapted from the French by Belasco, was, by
him, in association with Charles Frohman,
produced at the Star Theatre, New York,--Mrs.
Carter appearing in it as _Miss Helyett_.
December.
17. 50th performance of “Miss Helyett” at the
Star.
1892.
January.
10. Last performance of “Miss Helyett” at the
Star.
11. “Miss Helyett” was transferred from the
Star to the Standard Theatre.
29. 100th performance of “Miss Helyett.”
February.
13. Close of the New York engagement of Mrs.
Carter in “Miss Helyett”: she then went on a
tour in that play, under the management of
Frohman and Belasco, which lasted until the
end of the theatrical season of 1891-’92.
During the greater part of the remainder
of 1892 Belasco’s attention was bestowed
principally on the writing of “The Girl I Left
Behind Me.”
1893.
January.
16. “The Girl I Left Behind Me,” by Belasco
and Franklyn Fyles, was produced, by Charles
Frohman, for the first time anywhere, at the
New National Theatre, Washington, D. C.,--under
the stage management of Belasco.
25. The Empire Theatre, New York, was
opened, under the management of Charles
Frohman, with a performance of “The Girl I
Left Behind Me.”
March.
29. “The Girl I Left Behind Me” was played
at the Empire with an entirely new cast--the
original company, with one or two exceptions,
going to Chicago, where, during the World’s
Columbian Exposition, it was presented in
that drama, at the Schiller (now, 1917, the
Garrick) Theatre, for many weeks.
June.
24. 288th consecutive performance of “The
Girl I Left Behind Me,” at the Empire, and
close of the first season at that theatre.
October.
24. First performance in New York, at the
Empire Theatre, of “The Younger Son,”
adapted by Belasco from a German play
called “Schlimme Saat” (“Evil Seeds”).
Failure: it was withdrawn after four performances.
1894.
August.
22. Belasco left New York, taking his brother
Frederick with him, for San Francisco,--called
there by the illness of his mother, who
was thought to be dying.
1895.
October.
9. Belasco’s play of “The Heart of Maryland”
was presented, by the author, in association
with Mr. Max Bleiman, of New York,
for the first time anywhere, at the Grand
Opera House, Washington, D. C.
22. “The Heart of Maryland” was acted for
the first time in New York, at the Herald
Square Theatre: notable success.
1896.
March.
3. 150th performance of “The Heart of
Maryland.”
31. An extra performance of “The Heart of
Maryland” was given at the Herald Square
Theatre, for the benefit of the Hebrew
Infant Asylum.
April.
18. 200th performance of “The Heart of Maryland,”
and distribution of souvenirs at the
Herald Square.
May.
16. End of the “run” of “The Heart of Maryland,”
and close of the season at the Herald
Square Theatre: 229 consecutive performances
had been given of this fine melodrama.
June.
3. Trial of Belasco’s suit against N. K.
Fairbank, to recover $65,000, losses, expenses,
etc., incidental to instruction of
Mrs. Carter and her tour in “The Ugly
Duckling,” was begun before Justice Leonard
Giegerich and a jury, in Part V., Supreme
Court, State of New York. This suit
was fought with extreme acrimony at every
point.
23. The jury in Belasco’s suit against Fairbank
returned a verdict for the Plaintiff,
awarding him $16,000 and interest, for five
years, at 5 per cent.
August.
20. “Under the Polar Star,” revision by Belasco
of play by Clay M. Greene, was produced at
the Academy of Music, New York.
1897.
August.
16. Belasco presented “The Heart of Maryland”
at the Baldwin Theatre, San Francisco.
October.
5. At the Manhattan (previously the Standard)
Theatre Belasco, in partnership with
Charles Frohman, presented, for the first time
in New York, a tragedy of Chinese character
entitled “The First Born,” by Francis Powers.
It was produced under the stage management
of Belasco, and Powers appeared in its principal
part, _Chan Wang_: notable success. The
tragedy was acted in association with a farce
called “A Night Session,” derived from a
French original by Georges Feydeau.
23. The theatrical company that acted “The
First Born” in New York sailed for England,--a
new company taking its place at the
Manhattan.
November.
6. “The First Born” was acted at the Duke
of York’s Theatre, London,--where it failed
and was withdrawn after one week.
Last performance of “The First Born” at
the Manhattan Theatre. Nov. 29.--Transferred
to Garden Theatre, where it was acted
until December 11.
1898.
--. Close of the third season of “The Heart of
Maryland” at Springfield, Mass.
March.
30. Belasco, Mrs. Carter, and the company
which had been acting in “The Heart of
Maryland” sailed for England on SS. St.
Paul.
April.
8. Belasco, in partnership with Charles Frohman,
presented Mrs. Carter, at the Adelphi
Theatre, London (her first appearance
abroad), as _Maryland Calvert_, in “The Heart
of Maryland.”
June.
25. End of the season of “The Heart of Maryland”
in London.
September.
7. Belasco arrived in New York, from England,
on board SS. Majestic.
December.
25. Belasco’s adaptation of “Zaza,” from a
French play of that name, by MM. Pierre
Berton and Charles Simon, was acted for the
first time, at the Lafayette Square Opera
House (now, 1917, the Belasco Theatre),
Washington, D. C., Mrs. Leslie Carter
appearing in its central part.
1899.
January.
9. “Zaza” was acted for the first time in New
York, at the Garrick Theatre.
11. Death of Mrs. Humphrey Abraham Belasco,
at 174 Clara Street, San Francisco, in her
69th year. Mrs. Belasco was buried at Hills
of Eternity Cemetery, San Mateo, California.
June.
5. 150th performance of “Zaza,” observed by
distribution of souvenirs during the evening.
17. End of “run” of “Zaza,” and close of the
season at the Garrick: 164 performances had
been given.
December.
25. Belasco’s “Naughty Anthony” was produced,
first time, at the Columbia Theatre,
Washington, D. C., with Blanche Bates and
Frank Worthing in its principal parts.
1900.
January.
8. Belasco presented his farce of “Naughty
Anthony,” for the first time in New York, at
the Herald Square Theatre.
March.
5. At the Herald Square, first performance
anywhere of the tragedy, in one act, by
Belasco, entitled “Madame Butterfly,”--founded
on a story of the same name by John
Luther Long,--Blanche Bates acting in it as
_Cho-Cho-San_ and Frank Worthing as
_Lieutenant B. F. Pinkerton_.
21. Close of the Belasco season (“Naughty
Anthony” and “Madame Butterfly”) at the
Herald Square Theatre.
April.
5. Belasco, Mrs. Carter, and the theatrical
company to act “Zaza” sailed for England on
SS. St. Paul.
16. Belasco, in partnership with Charles Frohman,
presented Mrs. Carter in his play of
“Zaza,” at the Garrick Theatre, London.
28. In association with Charles Frohman, Belasco
presented “Madame Butterfly” at the
Duke of York’s Theatre, London: memorable
triumph.
May.
--. Belasco fell on stairs of the Garrick
Theatre, London, and was seriously injured.
July.
28. End of the London engagement of Mrs.
Carter, in Belasco’s “Zaza.”
August.
--. Belasco and Mrs. Carter sailed for New
York on board SS. -----.
--. They landed in New York.
1901.
February.
5. Belasco, in partnership with Charles Frohman,
presented at the Garden Theatre, for
the first time on any stage, a dramatization
of Ouida’s novel, “Under Two Flags,” by
Mr. Paul M. Potter,--revised by Belasco.
Blanche Bates, making her first appearance
in New York as a star, acted in it as
_Cigarette_. Stage direction of Belasco.
June.
1. 133rd performance of “Under Two Flags”
at the Garden Theatre, and close of the season
there.
September.
9. At the Hyperion Theatre, New Haven,
Conn., Belasco presented David Warfield as
a star, in “The Auctioneer,”--then first
acted on any stage,--a play built on suggestions
by Belasco, by Charles Klein and Lee
Arthur, and amended by Belasco.
23. Belasco presented Warfield in “The Auctioneer,”
for the first time in New York, at
the Bijou Theatre.
December.
12. At the New National Theatre, Washington,
D. C., Belasco, for the first time anywhere,
presented his play of “Du Barry,”
with Mrs. Carter in the central part.
“Du Barry” was to have been given on
Monday, the 9th inst., but difficulty in
handling the elaborate and heavy stage settings
and the need of additional rehearsals
delayed it till the 12th.
25. First performance of “Du Barry” in New
York occurred, at the Criterion Theatre.
1902.
January.
1. A silver loving cup was presented to
Belasco, on the stage of the Criterion Theatre,
by Mrs. Carter and all the other members
of the “Du Barry” company: Mr.
Charles A. Stevenson made the presentation
speech, and Mr. Belasco replied.
14. Belasco, by lease, secured control of the
Republic Theatre, New York.
25. Belasco was sued by M. Jean Richepin,
demanding an accounting for the receipts
from representations of “Du Barry,”--on
the ground, as alleged, that Belasco’s “Du
Barry” is, in fact, Richepin’s play of the
same name.
March.
13. Judge John J. Freedman, in the Supreme
Court, New York, denied a motion by attorneys
of M. Jean Richepin to strike out
essential clauses from Belasco’s answer in
Richepin’s suit against him, alleging plagiarism
in the play of “Du Barry.”
The Plaintiff never proceeded in this case,
and it was formally discontinued, in January,
1908.
17. Belasco was severely injured by the fall of
a heavy piece of scenery, during representation
of “Du Barry,” at the Criterion Theatre:
he was struck on the head, badly cut,
and rendered unconscious for a quarter of an
hour.
April.
19. Work of reconstruction of the Republic
Theatre was begun: the whole interior of that
theatre was torn out and rebuilt,--a sub-stage
chamber, twenty-five feet deep, being
excavated (which entailed much blasting of
solid rock), a perpetual spring of water
being incidentally tapped, which it was
extremely difficult to dam.
May.
31. 165th performance of “Du Barry” at the
Criterion, and close of that theatre for the
season.
September.
29. Belasco opened the first Belasco Theatre,
New York (previously the Republic), presenting
Mrs. Carter, in a revival of
“Du Barry.”
November.
17. The first performance, anywhere, of “The
Darling of the Gods,” a tragedy of Japanese
life by Belasco and John Luther Long,
occurred at the National Theatre, Washington,
D. C., under the management and stage
direction of Belasco: Blanche Bates, George
Arliss, and Robert Haines acted the chief
parts in it.
December.
2. Suit for $20,000 damages for malicious
libel was entered by Belasco against the
writer known as Onoto Watanna (Mrs.
Bertrand W. Babcock), in the Supreme
Court, New York, before Judge James J.
Fitzgerald.
3. First New York presentment of “The
Darling of the Gods,” at the first Belasco
Theatre.
1903.
January.
--. Belasco entered into a contract with Henrietta
Crosman for her appearance as a star
in a dramatization of the novel by Agnes and
Egerton Castle, called “The Bath Comedy.”
February.
6. Order for the arrest of Onoto Watanna
(Mrs. Babcock), obtained by Belasco, in his
suit against her claiming $20,000 damage
for malicious libel, was vacated by Judge
David Leventritt,--defendant, in effect, withdrawing
the libel: appeal against vacation of
the order of arrest entered by Belasco’s
lawyers.
May.
30. “The Darling of the Gods” was withdrawn
at the Belasco Theatre and that house was
closed for the season,--186 performances having
been given.
June.
6. End of tour, under Belasco’s direction, of
Mrs. Carter and a company of 147 other
players, presenting “Du Barry,” at Minneapolis,
Minn.: it had lasted thirty-eight weeks.
10. Belasco gave a brilliant reception in honor
of Mrs. Carter, on the stage of the Belasco
Theatre, New York,--which was attended by
several hundred persons of varied social and
artistic distinction.
September.
16. The Belasco Theatre was reopened with
a revival of “The Darling of the Gods.”
28. Beginning of Warfield’s third tour in “The
Auctioneer,” at the Harlem Opera House,
New York.
November.
14. Last performance of “The Darling of the
Gods” at the Belasco Theatre.
16. A contemptible outrage was perpetrated at
the Belasco Theatre, New York, when, during
representation of the First Act of “Zaza,” a
process server, employed and instructed by
Mr. A. Hummel, leaped upon the stage and
handed to _Mrs. Leslie Carter_ notice of an
action brought by Miss Eugenie Blair and Mr.
Henry Gressit, against _David Belasco_, praying
for an injunction to stop the latter presenting
“Zaza”! The plaintiffs alleged rights
of ownership of the play by Charles Frohman.
Hummel (firm of Howe & Hummel) was
attorney for C. Frohman as well as for Miss
Blair and Gressit.
23. Belasco produced, for the first time anywhere,
at the Lafayette Square Opera House
(now, 1917, Belasco Theatre), Washington,
D. C., his stage version of “The Bath
Comedy,” entitled “Sweet Kitty Bellairs.”
24. Suit was brought by Joseph Brooks, in the
Supreme Court, New York, against Belasco,
in an endeavor to establish that he, Brooks,
was a copartner with Belasco in management
and presentation of David Warfield, in the
play of “The Auctioneer.”
December.
8. First performance of “Sweet Kitty
Bellairs” in New York,--at the first Belasco
Theatre.
11. Judge Scott denied application, by Miss
Blair and Mr. Gressit, for an injunction to
stop Belasco’s presentation of “Zaza.”
23. By arrangement with Belasco Herbert
Beerbohm-Tree presented “The Darling of the
Gods” at His Majesty’s Theatre, London,
appearing in it as _Zakkuri_, with George
Relph as _Kara_ and Miss Marie Löhr as
_Yo-San_.
1904.
January.
8. Publication, in the newspaper press, of letter
by David Warfield repudiating Joseph
Brooks’ assertion of partnership with Belasco
in the management and presentation of Warfield,
in “The Auctioneer.”
10. Warfield’s tour in “The Auctioneer” was
abruptly ended at New Orleans.
25. Judge David Leventritt, in the Supreme
Court, New York (First District), refused to
issue a mandatory order, prayed for by
Joseph Brooks, directing David Warfield to
continue to act in “The Auctioneer.”
February.
3. Legal action was brought in the Circuit
Court of the United States for the Southern
District of New York by Grace B. Hughes
(otherwise known as Mary Montagu) to
restrain Belasco, Maurice Campbell, and
Henrietta Crosman from further presenting
Belasco’s play of “Sweet Kitty Bellairs,”--Plaintiff
alleging that Belasco’s play was, in
fact, an infringement of one by her, entitled
“Sweet Jasmine.”
February.
14. Hon. W. M. K. Olcott was appointed as
Receiver for the play of “The Auctioneer” (as
represented with Warfield in the central part),
in the Brooks-Belasco “partnership” suit.
March.
18. The application by Grace B. Hughes for
an injunction against Belasco, _et al._, as
above, was argued before Judge E. Henry
Lacombe.
26. Judge Lacombe denied the motion for an
injunction as prayed for by Grace B.
Hughes, holding that there was _no plagiarism_
by Belasco. This case was finally stricken
from the Calendar, without trial, March 3,
1913.
June.
4. End of the first New York run of “Sweet
Kitty Bellairs,” at the Belasco Theatre.
July.
31. Belasco presented “The Darling of the
Gods,” with Blanche Bates and the original
New York company, at the Imperial Theatre,
St. Louis, thus incurring the bitter, active
animosity of the Theatrical Syndicate,--the
Imperial Theatre not being under the control
of that organization.
September.
12. Belasco produced, for the first time anywhere,
at the Young’s Pier Theatre, Atlantic
City, N. J., Charles Klein’s play of “The
Music Master,” revised by Belasco--David
Warfield acting in it, as _Herr Anton von Barwig_.
September.
16. The Belasco Theatre was reopened with a
revival of “The Darling of the Gods.”
28. At the Montauk Theatre, Brooklyn, Mrs.
Carter’s “Farewell Tour” in “Du Barry”
began, under Belasco’s direction.
26. First presentation of “The Music Master”
in New York,--at the first Belasco Theatre.
December.
26. In Convention Hall (which, having been
shut out of all theatres by the iniquitous
Theatrical Syndicate, he had hired and converted
into a theatre, for one week’s engagement)
Belasco produced, for the first time
anywhere, the tragedy, written by him in
collaboration with John Luther Long, entitled
“Adrea,”--Mrs. Leslie Carter acting the principal
part in it.
1905.
January.
11. First performance of “Adrea” in New
York, at the first Belasco Theatre.
May.
4. End of the first run of “Adrea” and close
of the Belasco Theatre for the season.
June.
--. Belasco went to London.
September.
20. Belasco reopened the Belasco Theatre with
a revival of “Adrea.”
October.
3. At the new Belasco Theatre, Pittsburgh,
Pa., Belasco produced, for the first time anywhere,
his play of “The Girl of the Golden
West,”--Blanche Bates acting the central
character and Frank Keenan and Robert
Hilliard playing the chief supporting
parts.
November.
14. First performance in New York of “The
Girl of the Golden West,”--at the first
Belasco Theatre.
1906.
June.
23. End of Mrs. Carter’s tour at Williamsport,
Pa.,--in “Zaza”; her last performance under
Belasco’s management.
November.
12. Belasco produced his play “The Rose of the
Rancho,”--based, in part, on an earlier one
by Richard Walton Tully, called “Juanita,”--at
the Majestic Theatre, Boston, Mass, (first
time in this form), Frances Starr appearing
in it as _Juanita_, that being her first venture
as a star.
27. First New York presentation of “The
Rose of the Rancho” occurred at the first
Belasco Theatre.
December.
5. The corner-stone of Belasco’s Stuyvesant
Theatre (1917, the Belasco) was laid by
Blanche Bates. Bronson Howard made a
brief address.
1907.
September.
23. Belasco produced, at the Hyperion Theatre,
New Haven, Conn., for the first time anywhere,
a play written by himself in conjunction
with Misses Pauline Phelps and Marion
Short, entitled “A Grand Army Man,”--David
Warfield appearing in it as _Wes’ Bigelow_.
October.
16. Belasco opened his Stuyvesant Theatre,
New York,--now, 1917, the second Belasco
Theatre,--presenting Warfield in “A Grand
Army Man.”
November.
18. He presented Mr. William De Mille’s “The
Warrens of Virginia,” first time, at the Lyric
Theatre, Philadelphia.
December.
--. First New York performance of “The Warrens
of Virginia,” Belasco Theatre.
1908.
February.
24. Belasco revived “The Music Master” at the
Stuyvesant Theatre.
May.
2. Close of the season at the Stuyvesant,--performance
of “A Grand Army Man.”
September.
7. William J. Hurlbut’s play of “The Fighting
Hope” was produced by Belasco and
under his stage direction (first time anywhere)
at the Belasco Theatre, Washington,
D. C., Blanche Bates and Charles Richman
acting the principal parts.
22. First New York presentation of “The
Fighting Hope,”--at the Stuyvesant Theatre.
December.
31. At the Parsons Theatre, Hartford,
Conn., Belasco produced, for the first time
anywhere, the repulsive play of “The Easiest
Way,” by Mr. Eugene Walter--Miss Frances
Starr playing the central part in it.
1909.
January.
19. Belasco presented “The Easiest Way,” for
the first time in New York, at the Stuyvesant
Theatre,--“The Fighting Hope” being transferred
to the Belasco.
February.
7. Belasco left New York for San Francisco,
to visit his father.
12. Arrived in San Francisco.
24. A dinner in honor of Belasco was given at
Bismarck Café (now, 1917, the Hofbrau
Café), San Francisco, by former schoolmates
of his at the old Lincoln Grammar School of
that city.
27. Festival at the Bohemian Club, San Francisco,
in honor of Belasco.
March.
2. He left San Francisco.
7. He arrived in New York.
April.
29. Announcement made that H. G. Fiske and
Belasco and the Theatrical Syndicate “will
book in each others’ theatres when mutually
agreeable.”
June.
1. Marriage of Belasco’s elder daughter, Reina
Victoria Belasco, and Morris Gest, theatrical
manager, at Sherry’s, New York.
August.
16. At the Savoy Theatre, Atlantic City, for
the first time anywhere, Belasco produced
“Is Matrimony a Failure?” (adapted by Leo
Ditrichstein from “Die Thür Ins Frei” by
Oscar Blumenthal and Gustav Kadelburg),
Frank Worthing and Jane Cowl acting the
chief parts.
23. First New York performance of “Is Matrimony
a Failure?” at the first Belasco Theatre.
December.
6. First presentation of “The Lily” (adapted
by Belasco from a French original by MM.
Pierre Wolff and Gaston Leroux) was
effected at the Belasco Theatre, Washington,
D. C., Nance O’Neil and Charles Cartwright
playing the principal parts.
23. Belasco presented “The Lily,” for the first
time in New York, at the Stuyvesant Theatre.
1910.
January.
17. Belasco produced Mr. E. Walter’s play of
“Just a Wife,” at the Colonial Theatre,
Cleveland, Ohio.
January.
31. First New York performance of “Just a
Wife,”--at the first Belasco Theatre.
July.
--. It was decided to restore to the theatre
known since 1902 as the Belasco its former
name of the Republic Theatre, and to change
the name of Belasco’s Stuyvesant Theatre to
the Belasco Theatre.
August.
22. The Republic Theatre was reopened, under
that name, with the first performance of
Winchell Smith’s dramatization of the story
of “Bobby Burnitt.”
September.
19. Under the management and stage direction
of Belasco the first presentation in
America was effected, at the Nixon Theatre,
Pittsburgh, Pa., of “The Concert,” adapted
by Leo Ditrichstein from a German original
by Herman Bahr,--Mr. Ditrichstein appearing
in it as a star.
October.
10. First New York performance of “The
Concert” occurred at the (second) Belasco
Theatre.
24. Belasco produced Mr. Avery Hopwood’s
farce of “Nobody’s Widow” (first time anywhere)
at the Euclid Avenue Opera House,
Cleveland, Ohio,--Blanche Bates acting the
chief part in it.
November.
14. First New York presentation of “Nobody’s
Widow” at the Hudson Theatre.
1911.
January.
2. First performance of Belasco’s play of
“The Return of Peter Grimm,” at the Hollis
Street Theatre, Boston. David Warfield appeared
in its principal part.
27. Marriage of Belasco’s younger daughter,
Augusta Belasco, to William Elliott, actor,
at the Hotel Marie Antoinette, New York.
February.
24. Mrs. Elliott, dangerously ill, taken by
Belasco to Asheville, N. C.
April.
11. Death of Humphrey Abraham Belasco, at
1704 Sutter Street, San Francisco, California,
in the 81st year of his age. Buried
at Hills of Eternity Cemetery, San Mateo,
California.
17. Belasco produced William C. De Mille’s
play of “The Woman” (first time anywhere)
at the New National Theatre, Washington,
D. C.,--Helen Ware and William Courtleigh
acting the principal parts in it.
May.
1. Belasco takes his daughter, Mrs. Elliott,
to Colorado Springs, Col.
June.
5. Death of Augusta Belasco, Mrs. William
Elliott, at Broadmoor, Colorado Springs.
9. Funeral of Mrs. Elliott at Temple Ahawath
Chesed, New York. Buried at Ahawath
Chesed Cemetery, Linden Hills, Long Island.
September.
19. First New York performance of “The
Woman” occurred at the present (1917)
Republic Theatre.
October.
18. “The Return of Peter Grimm” was first
presented in New York,--at the second
Belasco Theatre.
30. Belasco presented Edward Locke’s play
of “The Case of Becky,” for the first time
anywhere, at the New National Theatre,
Washington, D. C.,--Miss Frances Starr
acting the central character.
December.
10. First performance on any stage of Puccini’s
“La Fanciulla del West,”--opera on
Belasco’s play “The Girl of the Golden West,”--at
the Metropolitan Opera House, New
York,--stage direction of Belasco.
1912.
February.
19. Legal action was begun in the United States
District Court for the Southern District of
New York, by Abraham Goldknopf, praying
for an injunction to restrain Belasco and
William C. De Mille from further presentment
of their play of “The Woman,” alleging that
play to be, in fact, an infringement of Plaintiff’s
play of “Tainted Philanthropy.” (See
November, _et seq._)
April.
20. 254th performance of “The Woman” at the
Republic Theatre, and close of the season at
that house.
29. Belasco produced (first time anywhere)
“The Governor’s Lady,” written by himself
in collaboration with Miss Alice Bradley, at
the Broad Street Theatre, Philadelphia, Pa.
May.
4. End of the run of “The Return of Peter
Grimm” in New York, and close of the Belasco
Theatre for the season.
June.
25. Legal action was brought against Belasco
by Amelia Bachman and George L. McKay,
alleging plagiarism by him, in “The Case
of Becky,” from their play of “Etelle.”
(See May 13, 1913.)
July.
31. Trial of Goldknopf suit against Belasco
was begun before Commissioner Gilchrist:
continued, August 5, before Judge George
C. Holt, in United States Circuit Court.
September.
9. First New York performance of “The
Governor’s Lady” occurred at the present
(1917) Republic Theatre.
October.
1. Belasco presented “The Case of Becky,”
for the first time in New York, at the second
Belasco Theatre.
November.
4. At the Empire, Syracuse, New York,
Belasco produced (first time anywhere) the
play by Frederick Hatton and Fanny Locke
Hatton, entitled “Years of Discretion.”
26. By permission of the Court Belasco presented,
at the Belasco Theatre, for one
performance only, in the morning, De Mille’s
play of “The Woman” (then filling an engagement
at the Grand Opera House), and in
the afternoon, Mr. Goldknopf’s play of
“Tainted Philanthropy”: Judge Holt adjourned
Court to the Belasco and witnessed
both performances.
29. Judge Holt rendered decision in suit by
Mr. Goldknopf against Belasco in favor of
the Defendant,--holding that there is
_no plagiarism_ by Belasco of Goldknopf’s play.
December.
10. At the Broad Street Theatre, Philadelphia,
Pa., Belasco presented (first time anywhere
in America) the fairy play of “A Good Little
Devil,” adapted by Austin Strong from
original by Rosemonde Gerard and Maurice
Rostand,--Ernest Lawford and Mary Pickford
acting the principal parts.
12. First New York production of “Years of
Discretion” occurred at the Belasco Theatre.
1913.
January.
8. The first New York performance of “A
Good Little Devil” was given at the present
(1917) Republic Theatre.
March.
3. Grace B. Hughes’ suit against Belasco,
alleging plagiarism in his “Sweet Kitty Bellairs”
from her play of “Sweet Jasmine,” was
stricken from the Calendar of the Circuit
Court of the United States, Southern District
of New York.
(Same date.) In the suit of A. Goldknopf
against Belasco, as above, final judgment
was entered, dismissing Plaintiff’s complaint
upon the merits.
May.
13-14. Suit by Amelia Bachman and George L.
McKay, against Belasco, alleging plagiarism
by him, in his “The Case of Becky,” from
their play of “Etelle,” was tried before Judge
Julius M. Mayer, in the United States District
Court.
June.
18. Belasco sailed on board SS. Campania,
for Paris, _via_ Fishguard, Great Britain, _re_
purchase of Henri Bernstein’s play of “The
Secret.”
July.
9. Judge Mayer rendered decision in the suit
of Amelia Bachman and George L. McKay
against Belasco, in favor of the Defendant,
holding that there is _no plagiarism_ in the
play of “The Case of Becky,” and dismissing
Plaintiffs’ complaint upon the merits.
15. Final judgment was entered against Amelia
Bachman and George L. McKay, in their suit
as above. This case was appealed: see
April 6, 1914.
August.
28. At the Lyceum Theatre, Rochester,
N. Y., Belasco produced (first time anywhere)
the adaptation made by Leo Ditrichstein
of the comedy “Pour Vivre Heureux,”
by MM. André Rivoire and Yves Mirande,
and entitled “The Temperamental Journey,”--Mr.
Ditrichstein appearing in it as a star.
September.
4. First New York performance of “The
Temperamental Journey” occurred at the
present (1917) Belasco Theatre.
October.
27. Belasco produced (first time anywhere),
at the Euclid Avenue Opera House, Cleveland,
Ohio, a play by Roland B. Molineux,
called “The Man Inside.”
November.
11. At the Criterion Theatre the first performance
was given in New York of “The
Man Inside.”
December.
8. At the Detroit Opera House, Detroit,
Mich., for the first time anywhere, Belasco
produced his English adaptation of Henri
Bernstein’s French play of “The Secret,”
Miss Frances Starr appearing in the principal
part.
28. First New York performance of “The
Secret” at the second Belasco Theatre.
1914.
April.
6. The appeal of Amelia Bachman and George
L. McKay, in suit against Belasco, alleging
plagiarism, was argued before the United
States Circuit Court of Appeals for the
Second Circuit. Decision on this appeal was
in favor of Belasco,--affirming Judge Mayer’s
decision, in dismissing Plaintiffs’ case that
there is _no plagiarism_. Opinion by Lacombe,
J., 224 Fed. Rep., page 817.
N.B. This is the only case against Belasco
which was ever carried to an appeal.
May.
4. Belasco presented Frederick Ballard’s play
of “What’s Wrong” (first time anywhere)
at the New National Theatre, Washington,
D. C.
July.
27. He produced (first time anywhere) “The
Vanishing Bride,” a farce adapted by Sydney
Rosenfeld from a German original by Leo
Kastner and Ralph Tesmar, entitled “Tantalus.”
Mr. Thomas A. Wise and Miss
Janet Beecher played the principal
parts.
September.
28. At Ford’s Opera House, Baltimore, Md.,
he presented (first time anywhere) the English
version by Leo Ditrichstein of “The
Phantom Rival,” by Ferenc Molnar, Mr.
Ditrichstein appearing in it as a star. (This
English version was, originally, called
“Sascha Comes Back.”)
October.
6. First New York presentment of “The
Phantom Rival” was effected at the present
(1917) Belasco Theatre.
1915.
January.
18. For the first time in America, Belasco presented,
at the Belasco Theatre, Washington,
D. C., Edward Knoblauch’s play of “Marie-Odile,”
Frances Starr acting the central part.
26. First New York performance of “Marie-Odile,”
at the Belasco Theatre.
March.
29. Belasco, in association with Charles Frohman,
revived “A Celebrated Case” in
Boston.
April.
5. At the Playhouse Theatre, Wilmington,
Del., Belasco presented (first time anywhere)
the farce of “The Boomerang,” by Winchell
Smith and Victor Mapes.
7. Belasco and Frohman presented “A Celebrated
Case” at the Empire Theatre, New
York.
26. At the Parsons Theatre, Hartford,
Conn., he produced a play by Henry Irving
Dodge, called “The Love Thought,”--Miss
Janet Beecher and Hardee Kirkland playing
the principal parts in it.
June.
28. At the Apollo Theatre, Atlantic City,
N. J., he presented (first time anywhere) a
play called “The Girl,” by George Scarborough.
(This was afterward renamed “Oklahoma,”
and, again, “The Heart of Wetona”:
see January 22 and February 29, 1916.)
Lenore Ulric played _Wetona_, the chief part.
August.
10. First New York performance of “The
Boomerang” was given at the present Belasco
Theatre.
December.
12. At the Playhouse, Wilmington, Delaware,
Belasco first produced his drama of “Van Der
Decken,” with David Warfield in the character
of that name.
1916.
January.
14. Lila Longson began an action at law
against Belasco, Winchell Smith, and Victor
Mapes, in the District Court of the United
States for the Southern District of New
York, alleging that their play of “The Boomerang”
is an infringement of her play of “The
Choice.”
20. Belasco presented “Oklahoma” (first called
“The Girl,” later renamed “The Heart of
Wetona”) at the Stamford Theatre, Stamford,
Conn.
February.
29. In association with “Charles Frohman”
(Company), he presented “The Heart of
Wetona” at the Lyceum Theatre, for the
first time in New York.
April.
17. Belasco produced (first time anywhere) a
farce by Roi Cooper Megrue called “The
Lucky Fellow” (afterward renamed “Seven
Chances”), at the Apollo Theatre, Atlantic
City, N. J.
May.
At the Apollo Theatre, Atlantic City,
he produced (first time anywhere) a play
called “The Treadmill” (later renamed
“Alias”), made by Willard Mack on the
basis of a story by John A. Moroso
entitled “Alias Santa Claus.”
August.
7. “Seven Chances” was produced for the
first time in New York, at the Cohan Theatre.
September.
19-21. Suit of Lila Longson against Belasco
_et al._ was tried before Judge William B.
Sheppard, who held that there was no
infringement and dismissed the complaint.
25. Entry of final judgment against Lila Longson
and dismissal of her complaint, upon the
merits.
October.
16. Belasco produced, for the first time anywhere,
“The Little Lady in Blue,” by Horace
Hodges and T. Wigney Percyval, at the
Belasco Theatre, Washington, D. C.
28. Belasco planted two juniper trees, in the
Shakespeare Garden, Cleveland, Ohio, with
public ceremonies.
December.
22. First New York performance was given
of “The Little Lady in Blue,” at the Belasco
Theatre.
1917.
February.
5. Belasco presented “Alias” (formerly “The
Treadmill”) at the Belasco Theatre, Washington,
D. C.
March.
31. --th and last New York performance of
“The Little Lady in Blue” occurred at the
Belasco Theatre.
April.
5. Belasco presented (first time anywhere) a
play by John Meehan, called “The Very
Minute,” at the Playhouse, Wilmington,
Del., Mr. Arnold Daly then first appearing
under his management as a star.
9. “The Very Minute” was acted for the first
time in New York, at the Belasco Theatre.
Failure.
May.
ADDED BY J. W.
7. Last performance of “The Very Minute,”
and close of the Belasco Theatre, for the
1916-’17 season.
July.
3. Belasco officiated as one of the pallbearers
at the funeral of William Winter.
August.
25. Belasco produced a play entitled “Polly
With a Past,” written by George Middleton
and Guy Bolton and revised by himself, at the
Stamford Theatre, Stamford, Conn.,--presenting
Miss Ina Claire in the central part.--A
trial performance of this play was given
at Atlantic City, N. J., June 11.
September.
6. The first New York performance of “Polly
With a Past” occurred at the Belasco Theatr
October.
3. Belasco produced the melodrama called
“Tiger Rose,” by Willard Mack, at the
Lyceum Theatre, New York: trial performance
of this play was given at the Shubert
Theatre, Wilmington, Delaware, April 30,
1917. Preliminary tour began, September
21, at
[Illustration]
INDEX TO VOLUME TWO
_B. = David Belasco._
A
“About Town” (extravaganza): 9.
“About Town” (play): 9.
Actors: eminent, of the Past, singled out for detraction, 310, _et seq._
“Adam in Paradise” (play--Italian): 317.
“ADREA” (tragedy): 68; 69; 121; 126; 129;
writing of, 134;
character of--and story of, epitomized, 138, _et seq._;
truthfulness of, to nature and to fact, 146;
purpose accomplished in, 147;
an honor to its authors, 148;
first performed--first performed in N. Y.--and original cast of, 150; 151;
B.’s determination to present, in Washington, 180;
reception of, in Washington--and B.’s reminiscence of, 181;
B.’s speech at first performance of, 182;
loss on one week’s performance of--and B.’s speech at first
N. Y. performance of, 185;
last new play acted in by Mrs. Carter under B., 186; 247; 336; 423;
sp. performance of, for S. Bernhardt, 451.
Ainsworth, William Harrison (Eng. novelist: 1805-1882): 335.
Alva (or Alba), Fernando Alvarez de Toledo, Duke of (1508-1583): 81.
Anderson, Mary (Mrs. Antonio de Navarro: Am. actress: 1859-19--): 423.
Arliss, George (George Arliss-Andrews: Eng. actor: 1868-19--):
as _Zakkuri_, 81.
Arnold, Matthew (Eng. poet, critic, etc.: 1822-1888): _re_
the Theatre, 160; 161.
Arthur, Lee (Lee Arthur Kahn: Am. playwright: 18-- - 19--): 11; 12; 325.
Assignation,” “The (play): 313.
AUCTIONEER,” “THE (play): written on B.’s plan and to his
order--B.’s designation of--revised by B.--first produced--and
Warfield on original quality of, 11;
first produced in N. Y.--described and critically
considered--Warfield’s performance in, 12, _et seq._;
original cast of, 15;
first N. Y. “run” of--tour--profits from, etc., 16;
abstract of B.’s testimony _re_, in conflict with Theatrical
Trust, 17, _et seq._;
“booking arrangement” _re_, with A. Erlanger, 18; 19; 20; 22; 23;
seasons of--and profits from, 24;
receivership applied for--and granted--Warfield closes
tour in, etc., 25, _et seq._; 27; 49; 124; 172; 386.
Authorship, dramatic: author’s views of, 314.
“Avare” (play): 217.
B
Babcock, Winnifred Eaton (Mrs. Bertrand W. Babcock--Onoto Watanna:
Am. story-writer: 1879-19--):
charges plagiarism against B.--arrested
for libel--retracts, 88, _et seq._
Bachman, Amelia (amateur Am. playwright): 322; 323.
Bahr, Hermann (Aust. play writer and critic: 1863-19--): 290; 291.
Banker’s Daughter,” “The (melodrama): 319.
Barker, H. Granville (Eng. actor, playwright,
th. man., and stage man.: 1877-19--): 247; 248.
Barnes, W. (Am. lawyer): 319; 320.
Barrett, Lawrence P. (Am. th. man. and actor:
1838-1891): 48; 66; 153; 214; 428;
B.’s view of, 449.
Barry, Thomas (Am. th. man. and actor): 153.
BATES, BLANCHE (Mrs. Milton F. Davis--Mrs. George Creel:
Am. actress: 1872-19--):
B. launches as star, 1;
qualities of, 3;
her personation of _Cigarette_, 5; 48; 49; 51;
her personation of _Yo-San_, 79;
quality of, as actress, 80; 86;
refutes charge that B. “stole” her services, 87; 94; 108; 112; 114;
telegrams to, by B., _re_ “The Darling of the Gods,” 188;
telegram to, by B. F. Roeder, _re_ same, 189;
telegram to, by B., _re_ same, 190;
letter to, by B., _re_ “benefits,” etc., 193;
letter to, by B., _re_ “The Girl of the Golden West,” 194;
as _The Girl_, 199;
her performance of _The Girl_ critically considered, 200;
last important performance of--acts in “The Fighting Hope,” 208;
acts in “Nobody’s Widow,” 209;
author’s wish that B. might resume management of, 213; 214;
lays cornerstone of B.’s Stuyvesant Th., 235; 236; 260.
Bates, Mrs. Frank Mark (Frances Marion Hinckley--Mrs. Charles L. Lord: Am.
actress: 1848-1908): letter to, by B., _re_
“The Girl of the Golden West,” 192.
Bath Comedy,” “The (novel): 94; 96--and dramatized,
see “Sweet Kitty Bellairs.”
Beach, Hon. Miles (Judge, N. Y.): 321.
“Becket” (tragedy): 194.
Beckford, William (Eng. novelist: 1760-1844): 74.
Belasco, Augusta (Mrs. William Elliott):
at laying of cornerstone of B.’s Stuyvesant Th., 236;
marriage of, 294;
removed to Asheville--then to Colorado Springs--and death,
funeral, and burial of, 296;
closeness of, and her father--and B.’s recollections of,
and the writing of “Peter Grimm.” 297.
BELASCO, DAVID (American theatrical manager, playwright,
stage manager, actor, dramatist, 1853-19--):
plans to star B. Bates--and selects “Under Two Flags,” 1;
employs P. M. Potter--and produces “U. T. F.,” 2;
beauty of that production, 4;
turns his attention to starring Warfield--negotiation of Warfield
with--same engaged by, and contract between and same--issue
of partnership with, 7;
personal relations of, with Warfield, and early recollection of same, 8;
position of Warfield when B. undertook management of, 10;
plans “The Auctioneer” for Warfield--has it written--rewrites and
first produces same, 11;
Warfield on work of B. on that play, 12;
Warfield’s debt to B.--and probable course of, without his direction, 14;
B.’s profits from “The Auctioneer” reduced--beginning of
his conflict with “The Theatrical Trust,” 16;
abstract of his sworn testimony _re_, A. Erlanger, the Trust, _et al._, 17,
_et
seq._;
compelled to submit to terms of Erlanger--and evidence to
substantiate B.’s statements, 19;
irreconcilable contradiction in the testimony of B. and of
Erlanger--and same commented on--author’s reasons for
accepting testimony of, 20, _et seq._;
B. quoted on threat by Erlanger, 22;
decision against, in favor of J. Brooks--same appealed and
technical grounds of that decision, 23;
Warfield refuses to act except under management of, 25;
Warfield’s second public statement in support of, 27;
early and characteristic trend of his mind, 28, _et seq._;
his selection of du Barry “not surprising,” 29;
seeking a new part for Mrs. Carter--selects _Queen
Elizabeth_--visits England, 30;
meets J. Richepin, through Miss E. Marbury--visits them at Versailles--and
his account of the “Du Barry” contract, etc., 31, _et seq._;
rejects Richepin’s impracticable play--writes “Du Barry”
himself--and his comments on the historic character, 33, _et seq._,
quality of his “Du Barry” and that play described and
critically examined, 34, _et seq._;
B. sued by Richepin--complaint and reply, etc.--and
suit at last discontinued, 42;
his reason for not taking “Du Barry” to London, 44;
comment on reconciliation with Richepin, 45;
loving-cup presented to, by “Du Barry” Co., etc., 46;
extraordinary progress of, 47;
position of, 48;
high ambition of--need of his own th.--and danger from Trust, 49;
business proposal to, by O. Hammerstein, 50;
same accepted--leases the Republic Th.--and stipulations of contract, 51;
comment by, _re_ high rent--dangerously hurt, 52;
rebuilds the Republic Th., 53, _et seq._;
“smites a rock” and taps a perpetual spring, 54;
interview of, and holder of mortgage on the th.--the first
Belasco Th. described, 55, _et seq._;
opening of his first th.--speech of, on that occasion, etc., 60, _et seq._;
souvenir published by, 66;
disparaged by biographer of Mark Twain and defended
by author, 67, _et seq._;
“The D. of G.” created by B.--and letter from, to author,
quoted, 69;
his plans for Mrs. Carter--reasons for opening with
“Du Barry”--and his immense investment in, 70;
“The D. of G.” based on his “The Carbineer”--collaboration
with J. L. Long--and “The D. of G.” first produced by, 71, _et seq._;
his tragedy of “The Darling of the Gods,” described and
critically considered, 73, _et seq._;
dramatic effects originated by B., Irving, Daly, etc., 82;
his interesting recollection of creating scenic effect in
‘The D. of G.,” 83, _et seq._;
immense cost to, of that play--and his small profit from--seeking
an American Gilbert and Sullivan--engages Miss L. Russell, 85;
accused of “stealing” stars, 86;
and vindicated--is accused of plagiarism, 87;
is libelled--his patience exhausted, causes arrest of O.
Watanna--sues for $20,000 damages--and contemporary
statement by, 88, _et seq._;
libel against, withdrawn, 90;
contemptible outrage against, perpetrated by order of A. Hummel, etc., 91;
feeling of, toward C. Frohman--and significant note from same to B., 92;
author’s comment on--and Judge Dittenhoefer’s comment
on the Hummel-Frohman-Blair-Gressit outrage, 93;
his agreement with E. and A. Castle--dramatizes
“The Bath Comedy”--and engages Miss H. Crosman, 94;
produces his “Sweet Kitty Bellairs”--harassed by Brooks
suit--and terse statement by, 95;
his “Sweet Kitty Bellairs” described and critically considered, 96, _et seq._;
sued by Grace B. Hughes, alleging plagiarism--gross
injustices to B.--suit decided in his favor--author’s
comments _re_ same, 104, _et seq._;
letters of, to E. Castle, 106, _et seq._;
his “The D. of G.” produced in London--mean disparagement of, 109;
glowing tribute to, by H. Beerbohm-Tree, 110;
abortive arrangement to produce “Peter Grimm” in London, 111;
strenuous work of--comment by, on his disposition--statement _re_ policy
of, by B. F. Roeder, 112;
“open war” with the “Trust,” 113;
writing of “The Music Master”--B.’s the animating mind
in that work, 114, _et seq._;
his reminiscence of “The M. M.,” 118, _et seq._;
his speech on first night of “The M. M.” in N. Y.,
121; letter of, _re_ “The M. M.,” to C. Klein, 122;
author on B.’s impressions _re_“one-part actors,” etc., 123, _et seq._;
subjected to “a peculiarly impudent and contemptible persecution,” 126;
claim of J. Brooks against, disallowed by Judge Leventritt, 127;
his esteem for Warfield--his views _re_ “The M. M.,” 128;
letters of, to B. Bates, to D. James, Jr., 129;
letter of, to P. Robertson, 130;
letter of Robertson to B., 132;
comment _re_, by author, 133;
his method of collaboration, 134;
letter of J. L. Long to, _re_ “Adrea,” 135;
letter of, to J. L. Long, _re_ “Adrea”--and character
of his “Adrea”--and story of, etc., considered, 136, _et seq._;
purpose of, in same--and fulfilled, 147;
climax of his conflict with the Syndicate--and custom
of B., _re_ first performance of new plays, 151;
and the Theatrical Syndicate, 152, _et seq._;
services of, to Public and Theatre, 152;
imperishable record of--and unique service rendered by, 153;
efforts of, to present plays in Washington, 153;
situation of, under Syndicate domination, 169;
treatment of, by Syndicate, in 1904, 170;
S. Untermyer on Erlanger and Syndicate _re_ Belasco, 178;
feeling of, about Washington--and theatres there closed to, 179;
hires Convention Hall there--and converts into a theatre, 180, _et seq._;
letter of, to “Washington Post,” 182;
his reminiscence of first performance of “Adrea,” 183;
a card to the public--and speech by, on that occasion, 184;
immense loss on Washington engagement of “Adrea”--and
speech by, in N. Y., 185, _et seq._;
professional association of, and Mrs. Carter ended, 187;
characteristic messages from, 188, _et seq._;
goes to England--1905, 190;
letter from, to “London Referee,” 191;
alliance of, with Mme. Schumann-Heink arranged--and
abandoned--his regret _re_--and letter of, to B. Bates, 192;
letter of, to J. L. Long, 193;
letters of, _re_ “The Girl of the Golden West,” to Mrs. Bates and to B. Bates,
194;
letter of, to F. E. Shrader, 195;
tribute of, to memory of H. Irving, 196;
first production of his “The Girl of the Golden West”--and
same critically considered, 197, _et seq._;
reminiscence of, and his father, suggesting central incident
of “The Girl of the Golden West,” 202, _et seq._;
comment on technical merits of his production of that play, 205, _et seq._;
pleasing device used by, in that play, 207;
professional association of, and B. Bates ended, 208, _et seq._;
significant comment of, _re_ unappreciated work he has done for other writers, 210;
letter from G. Puccini to, and writing of opera by same on “The Girl of the Golden West,” 214, _et
seq._;
interest of, in that opera--and reminiscence of, about, 216;
refuses all payment for services to the Metropolitan Opera Company--acknowledgment by same to--and cherished gift by same
to,
217;
his alliance with the Messrs. Shubert--how arranged, etc., 218;
foolish statement _re_, by L. Shubert--and author’s comment on same, 219;
narrow escapes of, from violent death, 220;
sees F. Starr for first time, 221;
informing reminiscences of, about Miss Starr, 222, _et seq._;
stipulation on which he accepted “The Rose of the Rancho,” 224;
that play, as revised and altered by him, a notable success--and
same critically considered, 225, _et seq._;
unerring skill of, in use of “the element of natural accessories,” 233;
significant statement of, _re_ lighting-effects in “The Rose of the Rancho,”
234;
projects the second B. Theatre (the Stuyvesant), 235;
laying of cornerstone of same--ceremonies--address by B. Howard, etc., 236, _et
seq._;
his Stuyvesant Theatre and his studio and collections in same described,
241, _et seq._;
conspicuous part played by, in development of the art of stage lighting,
244, _et seq._;
important statement by, _re_ the same, 247, _et seq._;
opening of his Stuyvesant Theatre--and his play of “A Grand Army Man” critically considered, 249,
_et
seq._;
speech of, at opening of Stuyvesant Theatre, 255;
he accepts “The Passing of the Third Floor Back” for D. Warfield and the
opening of the Stuyvesant Theatre--and is unjustly treated by J. K. Jerome, 257,
_et
seq._;
produces “The Warrens of Virginia,” 260;
recollections of, about M. Pickford--and produces “The Easiest Way,” 267;
his last visit to his father--honors to, in S. F.--and touching reminiscence of, _re_ same, 271,
_et
seq._;
return of, to N. Y.--and practical surrender of Theatrical Syndicate to,
in conflict with, 274, _et seq._;
author’s view _re_ association of, with Syndicate, 276;
early statement to author of purpose, _re_ Syndicate, 277;
statement by L. Shubert _re_, and Syndicate, 278;
unwarranted and silly attack on, by Mrs. Carter, 279;
and dignified repulsion of same by--his proposal for a farewell tour by Lotta
declined,
280;
his productions in the season of 1909-’10, 281, _et seq._;
comment by, on Jane Cowl--“Le Lys” adapted and produced by, 283;
purpose of, in that adaptation, 286;
production of “Just a Wife” made by, 287;
period of his management of first B. Theatre--changes names of same and Stuyvesant Th.--produces “The
Concert,”
289;
letter of, to author, _re_ death of daughter, quoted from, 293;
marriage of daughter--and death of--death and funeral of father, 294;
reasons for early opposition to daughter’s marriage--wedding of same and
his gift to, 295;
fight for life of daughter--removes same to Asheville--to Colorado Springs--death
of,
296;
closeness of, and younger daughter--his recollection of daughter, and of
writing of “The Return of Peter Grimm,” 297;
marriage of his elder daughter, 298;
fragmentary and unrevised critical notes, _re_ “Peter Grimm,” 298;
his “The Return of Peter Grimm” described and critically considered, 299,
_et
seq._;
his authorship of “Peter Grimm” questioned--and quality of detractors of
B., 305;
letter of, repudiating collaboration in “Peter Grimm”--produces “The Woman,”
306;
accused of plagiarism, 309;
the whole subject of accusations of plagiarism against Belasco critically examined and refuted, 310,
_et
seq._;
debt of other playwrights to, 324;
playwrights who have profited by, specified by name, 325;
exceptional letter of thanks to, from G. Scarborough, 326;
THE DRAMATIC WORKS of, catalogued, 327, _et seq._;
a study of his quality and achievement as a dramatist, incompleted, 332,
_et seq._;
quality of, as man--labor of, and opposition to, etc., 334, _et seq._;
constitution of mind of, compared to Ainsworth, 335;
rank of, as dramatist--and not an imitator, 336;
trial of A. Goldknopf’s suit against, and De Mille, 337, _et seq._;
proposes a unique demonstration--and the court acquiesces, 338;
gives comparative performances of “The Woman” and “Tainted Philanthropy”--and court decides in favor of
B.,
341;
his comments on, 342;
produces “The Case of Becky”--same, in N. Y.--and the writing of, 343;
his reminiscence of that play, 345;
delighted by success of--and sued for “plagiarism” in, 346;
vindicated in court--and decision quoted, 347;
produces “A Good Little Devil,” 348;
beautiful accoutrement of same, 349;
reasons for producing “The Secret”--and his estimate of, 351, _et seq._;
produces “Marie-Odile”--his estimate of, 356;
reconciliation of, and C. Frohman, 361, _et seq._;
joint productions with C. Frohman projected--and they revived “A Celebrated
Case,”
363;
his watchfulness of plays and players--estimate of L. Ulric, 365;
his rule as to seeing actors--a rehearsal for Miss Ulric--and impression
on, made by, 368;
produces “The Girl” for Miss Ulric, 369;
rewrites same with G. Scarborough--and presents as “The Heart of Wetona,” with Miss
U.,
370;
produces “What’s Wrong”--“The Vanishing Bride”--“The Love Thought”--“Alias,”
374;
produces “The Governor’s Lady,” 377;
produces “Years of Discretion,” 381;
produces “The Temperamental Journey,” 383;
revives “The Auctioneer,” 386;
his endeavor to assist R. B. Molineux, 387, _et seq._;
his painful experience with Molineux, 390;
compelled to order Molineux out of th., 391;
his visits to Chinatown, 394;
characteristic and illuminative letter by, 395, _et seq._;
his admonition to Stage aspirants--a letter, 398, _et seq._;
produces “The Boomerang,” 407;
and his view of that play, 408, _et seq._;
letter of O. K. Kahn to, _re_ “The B.,” 409;
produces “Seven Chances,” 411;
produces “The Little Lady in Blue,” 413;
letter of W. W. to, _re_ same, 414;
produces “The Very Minute,” 416;
SUMMARY OF HIS CHARACTER AND CAREER, 418, _et seq._;
vitality and influence of, 421;
aspersion of--and defended by author--his devotion to the Th., 422;
works by which he will be remembered, 423;
view of the stage to which he subscribed--and administration of “his great
office,”
427;
place among th. managers, 428;
quality of, as th. man., 430;
how contrasted with C. Frohman--characteristic instance of his placability and
generosity,
433;
reasons for his greatness as stage man., 434;
his understanding of actors--source of weakness in, 435;
attitude of, in his th.--and most conspicuous associate of, in conduct of
same,
437;
personal peculiarities, 439;
variable aspect of--and precious mental advantage possessed by, 440;
great Shakespeare project proposed to, by author, 441;
his favorable attitude toward, 443;
a “Shakespeare Trilogy” outlined to, by author, 445;
project enthusiastically adopted by, 447;
temporarily abandoned, because of death of W. W., see _ante_, 441;
his estimates of old actors--and glowing tribute of, to S. Bernhardt--a letter, 449,
_et
seq._;
brief extracts from his correspondence, 452, _et seq._;
produces “Van Der Decken”--and same considered, 459, _et seq._;
produces “Polly with a Past,” after revising it, 463;
produces “Tiger Rose,” after revising, with L. Ulric in chief part, 465,
_et seq._;
CHRONOLOGY OF THE LIFE OF DAVID BELASCO, 471, _et seq._
Belasco, Frederick (Am. th. man.: 1862-19--): 130.
Belasco, Humphrey Abraham (father of D. B.: 1830-1911):
reminiscence by, the origin of chief passage in “The Girl of the
Golden West,” 200, _et seq._;
B.’s last visit to, 271; 272;
death of--funeral--and burial, 294.
Belasco, Reina Victoria (Mrs. Morris Gest):
at laying of the cornerstone of B.’s Stuyvesant Th., 236;
wedding of, 298.
Belasco Theatre, the first: 52, _et seq._;
described, 55, _et seq._;
opened with revival of “Du B.”--and B.’s speech on opening night, 60, _et
seq._;
first programme at, 62.
Belasco Theatre, the second (originally David Belasco’s Stuyvesant Th.):
projected, 234;
cornerstone laid, 235;
address by B. Howard on laying of same, 236;
B.’s recollections re occasion, 237, _et seq._;
situation of--and described, 238, _et seq._;
cost of, 240;
B.’s studio in, 241, _et seq._;
opened, 249;
spirited speech by B. on opening of, 255.
Belleforest, ----: 317.
“Belle Lamar” (melod.): 265.
Belle of New York,” “The (extravaganza): 9.
Belle Russe,” “La (melod.--B.’s): 312.
“Belphégor; or, The Mountebank” (melod.): 115; 118.
Benrimo, J. Henry (Am. actor): 188; 189.
BERNHARDT, SARAH (Sarah Frances--Mme. Jacques Damala: Fr. actress: 184[4?]-19--):
9;
forced by the Th. Syndicate to act in circus tent, 155;
author on--and views of--disagrees with B. _re_, 448;
B.’s tribute to--a letter, 449, _et seq._;
message to from B.--and reply by, 451; 452.
Berton, Pierre (Fr. journalist and playwright: 1840-1912): 325.
Bickerstaff, Isaac (Eng. dramatist: _cir._ 1735: _cir._ 1812): 313.
Bieber, Sidney (fire marshal and politician: 1874-1914): helps B., 178.
Bigelow, Wallis & Colton (architects): 59.
Bimberg, Meyer R. (died, 1908): 235.
Blair, Eugenie (Am. actress): 92.
Blumenthal, Oscar (Ger. dramatist: 1852-19--): 281.
“Bobby Burnitt” (story): 289.
Bolton, Guy (Am. playwright): 325.
Bond, Frederick (Am. actor and th. man.): 221.
BOOMERANG,” “THE (farcical comedy): 323; 373; 406;
produced--and critically considered, 407, _et seq._;
B.’s view of, 408;
letter to B. from O. H. Kahn, _re_, 409;
cast of, 410.
Booth, Barton (Eng. actor: 1681-1733): unjustly stigmatized, 310.
BOOTH, EDWIN THOMAS (Am. actor and th. man.: 1833-1893): 48; 49;
troublesome experience of, when building Booth’s Th., 54; 153; 161;
unjustly stigmatized, 311.
BOUCICAULT, DION (Dionysius Lardner Boucicault [originally Bourcicault]: Irish-Am. dramatist, actor, and th. man.: 182[2?]-1890): 153; 265; 268;
313;
314.
Bourchier, Arthur (Eng. actor and th. man.: 1863-19--): 128.
Boyesen, Hjalmar Hjorth: 325.
Bradley, Alice (Am. playwright:) 325.
Brady, William A---- (Am. th. man.: 1865-19--): 9; 429.
Bronze Horse,” “The (spectacle): 82.
Brooks, Joseph (Am. th. man. and agent: 1849-1916): 19; 20; 22; 23; 24; 25;
26;
suit of, against B. begun, 95; 126; 127.
Brown, John: 216.
Burnham, Charles (Am. theatre prop.: 18-- -19--): quoted, _re_ commercialism of the
drama,
159.
Burton, William Evans (Eng.-Am. actor, writer, and th. man.: 1804-1860): 151.
Bush Street Th., S. F.: Warfield an usher at, 8.
Byron, George Gordon, sixth Lord (the poet: 1788-1824): 35; 318.
C
Caldwell, James H. (Am. th. man.: 1793-1863): 150.
California Th., S. F.: first attempt in Am. to light stage by electricity made
at,
245.
Campbell, Maurice (Am. th. agent): 321.
“Campdown Races” (song): 206.
Cannon, Hon. Joseph Gurney (Congressman: 1836-19--): helps B., 178.
“Caprice” (play): 320.
Carabiniere,” “Il (play--It.): 71.
Carbineer,” “The (play--B.’s) : 71.
Carpenter, E. C.: 68.
CARTER, MRS. LESLIE (Caroline Louise Dudley--Mrs. William Louis Payne: Am.
actress: 186[4?]-19--): 1; 6; 29; 30; 31;
her performance of _du Barry_, 37;
her method--developed by B., 38;
B.’s reason for not taking her to London in “Du B.,” 44; 45; 48; 50; 51;
B.’s tribute to, 61;
production of “Kassa” by, 68; 69; 70;
end of extraordinary tour of, under B.’s direction, 90; 91; 112; 114; 126;
her impersonation of _Adrea_ critically considered and qualities of specified, 148, _et seq._; 182; 184;
185;
184;
marriage of--professional association of, and B. ended--_Adrea_ her best
performance--and qualities of it, 185; 186; 187; 277.
Caruso, Enrico (It. singer: 1874-19--): 214.
CASE OF BECKY,” “THE (play): 320; 322;
produced--and writing of, 343;
described and considered, 344;
B.’s recollections _re_, 345;
cast of--unexpected success of--plagiarism charged in, 346;
B. vindicated _re_ same--decision quoted, 347.
Castle, Agnes (Mrs. Egerton Castle): 94.
Castle, Egerton (Eng. novelist and newspaper man: 1858-19--): 94;
B.’s letters to, _re_ “Sweet Kitty Bellairs,” 106, _et seq._
“Cataract of the Ganges” (“The Ganges”): 82.
“Catherine” (play): burlesque of, 10.
Catherine the Second, Empress of Russia (1729-1796): 29.
Celebrated Case,” “A: 363;
first produced, 363;
considered, 364;
revived by B. and C. Frohman--cast of, 365.
“Charles I.” (drama): 264.
Children of the Ghetto,” “The (play): 87.
Chimney Corner,” “The (play): 249.
Chester, George Randolph (Am. writer: 1869-19--): 289.
Choice,” “The (play): 323.
Chronicle,” “The S. F. (newspaper): 133.
Cid,” “Le (play--Fr.): 317.
City Directory,” “The (farce): 9.
Civinni, C. (It. librettist): 213.
Claire, Ina (Am. actress and mimic): B.’s attention directed to--and first
appearance under, 464;
quality of, revealed in _Polly Shannon_, 465.
Clarke, John Sleeper (Am.-Eng. actor and th. man.: 1833-1899): 153.
Clemens, Samuel Langhorne (Mark Twain: Am. author: 1835-1910): 67.
“Coal Oil Tommy” (song): 206.
Cohan, George M. (Am. actor, th. man., and playwright: 1878-19--): 430.
Cohan & Harris (Am. th. mang’s.): 289.
Collins, William Wilkie (Eng. novelist and dramatist: 1824-1889): 164; 234;
comment on his “No Name,” 286.
Colman, John (Eng. th. man. and dram.: 1732-1794): 313.
Comedy of Errors,” “The: 317.
CONCERT,” “THE (farcical comedy): adapted by L. Ditrichstein and produced by
B.,
289;
theme of--and critically considered, 290, _et seq._;
cast of, 290.
Congreve, William (Eng. dramatist: 1670-1729): 313.
Conners, “Chuck”: 395; 396; 397; 398.
Convention Hall, Wash., D. C.: converted by B. into a theatre, 178, _et seq._
Cooper, James Fenimore (Am. novelist: 1789-1851): 164.
Cope, John W. (Am. actor: ---- - 19--): 233.
“Coriolanus”: 318.
Corneille, Pierre (Fr. dramatist and poet: 1606-1684): 313; 317.
Couldock, Charles Walter (Eng.-Am. actor: 1815-1896): 249.
Courtleigh, William (Am. actor: 1869-19--): 190.
Cowl, Jane (Mrs. Adolph Klauber: 18-- - 19--): B. comments on, 283.
Crabbe, George (Eng. poet and clergyman: 1754-1832): 318.
Crews, Laura Hope (Am. actress): excellent performance by, 406.
Cricket on the Hearth,” “The (play): 123.
CRITICASTERISM, “eunuchs of”: Goldsmith quoted _re_, 304;
author on, and authorship of “Peter Grimm,” 305.
CROSMAN, HENRIETTA (Mrs. Maurice Campbell: 1865-19--): 35;
engaged by B., 94;
her personation of _Kitty Bellairs_, 100, _et seq._; 103; 108; 321.
Crushed Tragedian,” “The (satirical farce): 123.
D
DALY, AUGUSTIN (Am. journalist, th. man., dramatist, and stage man.: 1838-1899): 48;
49;
61;
opponent of the Th. Syndicate, etc., 154; 161; 244; 269.
Dampier, Captain William (Eng. buccaneer and explorer: 1652-1712): 317; 318.
DARLING OF THE GODS,” “THE (tragedy): 68;
its existence due solely to B., 69;
founded on B.’s early adaptation of “Il Carabiniere,” 71;
first productions of--and original cast of, 72;
described and critically considered, 73, _et seq._;
beauties in production of, 80;
fine acting, 81;
B.’s recollection of creating scenic effects in “The D. of G.”--the River of Souls, etc., 83,
_et
seq._;
Tree’s impression _re_ same, on reading description, 84;
B. accused of plagiarism in connection with, 88, _et seq._;
186th performance of, 90; 91; 94;
produced in London, 108, _et seq._;
B. breaks with Syndicate over--and presents independently in St. Louis, 113; 129; 170; 181; 247;
312;
333.
Davenant, Sir William (Eng. soldier, th. man.: 1605-1668): 419.
Davenport, Edward Loomis (Am. actor and th. man.: 1815-1877): 214.
“David Garrick” (comedy): 123.
Dean, William (gen. st. man. for B.: 1868-1913): 222; 223; 224.
de Belleval, Comte ----: on character and person of du Barry, 34.
de Bergerac, Savinien Cyrano (Fr. novelist, dramatist, duellist, soldier, and poet:
1620-1655):
317.
Defoe, Daniel (Eng. author: 1659 [or 60?]-1731): 318.
“Delicate Ground” (satirical farce): 290.
De Mille, Cecil Blount (Am. actor and playwright: 1881-19--): 306.
DE MILLE, HENRY CHURCHILL (am. Playwright: 1850-1893): 260; 320; 321; 325.
DE MILLE, WILLIAM CHURCHILL (Am. playwright: 1878-19--): 260;
B.’s production of his “The Woman,” 306, _et seq._; 322.
Destinn, Emmy (Aust. singer: 18-- - 19--): 214.
de Valois, Marguerite (1492-1549): 29.
Dewey, George (Admiral of the Navy, U. S.: 1837-1917): at first performance of “Adrea,”
183;
185.
Dickens, Charles, Sr. (the novelist and dramatist: 1812-1870): 162.
Discovery,” “The (play): 313.
DITRICHSTEIN, LEO (Aust.-Am. actor and playwright: 1867-19--):
his adaptation of “Die Thür ins Freie,” 281;
adopts “The Concert,” 289;
his adaptation, “The Concert,” critically considered, 291, _et seq._
Dittenhoefer, Hon. Abram Jesse (Am. lawyer: 1836-19--): 51;
statement by, _re_ outrage at Belasco Th., 93; 320.
“Divorçons” (comedy): 290.
“Dolce” (play): 68.
“Don Juan” (poem): 35.
Dragon-Fly,” “The (play): 68.
DRAMATIC MIRROR,” “THE N. Y. (th. newspaper): H. G. Fiske’s arraignment of
Th. Syndicate in--and Syndicate suit against, 175, _et seq._; 320.
Dryden, John (Eng. poet, dramatist, etc.: 1633-1701): 313.
“Du Barri” (play--Richepin’s): produced in London--and a failure, 44.
DU BARRY, COUNTESS (Marie Jeanne Bécu: Fr. courtesan: 1746-1793): 29;
influence of--slaughtered, 30; 31;
B. on character of--author on same, 33;
Voltaire on--and Comte de Belleval on character and person of, 34; 35;
execution of, 36; 42.
“DU BARRY” (play--B.’s): 32;
quality of--and described and critically considered, 34, _et seq._;
first produced--and same in N. Y., 38;
C. Frohman refuses “a half-interest” in--B., and author, on production of,
39;
splendid setting of--and original cast of, 40;
Richepin’s lawsuit against B. _re_, 42, _et seq._;
that lawsuit discontinued, 44;
ceremonies, and speech after New Year’s performance of, 45, _et seq._; 47;
48;
reason for presenting at Criterion Th., 50; 52;
revived for opening of the first Belasco Theatre, 60;
souvenir programme of, 62;
souvenir book about, 66;
immense investment in, 70; 89; 91; 108; 181; 320; 321.
Dunlap, William (Am. th. man. and historian: 1766-1839): 150.
Dunn, Emma (Am. actress): in “The W. of V.,” 265.
E
EASIEST WAY,” “THE (play): quality of, 267;
critical strictures on, 268;
author’s attitude toward, 269;
perfection of production of, 270; 423.
Edwardes, George (Eng. op. and th. man.: 18-- - 19--): 128.
Effects, dramatic: creation of--and representative, cited, 82;
B. on, in “The M. M.,” 119.
Elliott, William (Am. actor and th. man.: 18-- - 19--): meeting of, and B.’s daughter--their
marriage,
294;
same at first opposed by B., 295.
Elizabeth, Queen of England (1533-1603): 30; 31.
English Gentleman,” “An (play): 123.
ERLANGER, ABRAHAM LINCOLN (Am. speculative th. man. and th. “booking agent”: 1860-19--): abstract of B.’s testimony _re_, and the Theatrical Syndicate, 17,
_et
seq._;
his _flat denial_ of B.’s testimony, 20;
author’s reasons for not believing “the things he swears to,” 21;
B.’s statement _re_ threat of, quoted, 22; 154; 155;
statement by, _re_ early th. man’s., actors, the Th. Syn., etc., quoted,
156;
course of, _re_ B.’s booking of “The D. of the G.” in St. Louis, 168, _et
seq._;
H. G. Fiske’s allegation against, 174;
power of--S. Untermyer’s arraignment of--and author’s opinion of it, 176, _et seq._;
113;
278.
Eudoxia, Roman Empress (---- - 462): 146.
Euripides: 317.
“Etelle” (play): 322.
F
Fanciulla del West,” “La (opera--on “The Girl of the Golden West”): produced,
214;
original cast of, 215.
Farquhar, George (Eng. dram.: 1678-1707): 313.
Fielding, Henry (Eng. novelist and playwright: 1707-1754): 313.
Fields, Charles J.: 274.
FIGHTING HOPE,” “THE (melod.): produced by B., 206;
cast of, 207;
“rectified” by B.--critically considered, 208, _et seq._
Fiske, Harrison Grey (Am. journalist and th. man.: 1867-19--): 49;
conflict of, with Th. Syndicate, 154;
his arraignment of Th. Syndicate--and is sued by, 175;
his answer to suit, 176;
Syndicate suit against, discontinued--and author’s comment thereon, 177,
_et seq._; 275; 320.
Fiske, Minnie Maddern (Mrs. Harrison Grey Fiske: Am. actress: 1865-19--): 49;
154.
Fitzgerald, Hon. James J. (Judge, N. Y.): decision of, against B., quoted--and author on same, 23,
_et
seq._
Flying Dutchman,” “The (play on--by B.): 300.
Flying Scud,” “The (melod.): 221.
Forbes-Robertson, Sir Johnston (kt., cr. 1913: Scotch-Eng. actor, th. man., and playwright:
1853-19--):
260.
Ford, James Lauren (Am. journalist and story writer: 1854-19--): 66.
Ford, John T. (Am. th. man.: 1829-1894): 153.
“Forget-Me-Not” (melod.): 312.
Forrest, Edwin (Am. actor: 1806-1872): 214.
Freedman, Hon. John Joseph (Judge, N. Y. Sup. Ct.: 1835-19--): decision of, for B., against
Richepin,
44.
FROHMAN, CHARLES (Am. spec. th. man.: 1860-1915): 1; 19;
refuses “a half-interest” in B.’s “Du Barry,” 39; 49;
not exempt from B.’s arraignment of Th. Syn., 50;
significant letter of, to B., 92; 93; 156;
statement by, _re_ alleged purpose in formation of the Th. Syn., quoted,
158; 171; 191; 361;
reconciled with B.--and death of, 362;
revives “A. C. C.” with B., 363; 429; 430;
brief sketch of character of, 431;
not a true th. man.--quality of, revealed, 432;
relative rank of, contrasted with B., 433.
Frohman, Daniel (Am. th. man.: 1839-19--): 432.
Fyles, Franklyn (originally, Franklin Files: Am. journalist and playwright:
1847-1911):
325.
G
Gall, Charles F.: 274.
Galland, Bertha (Am. actress: 1876-19--): 103.
Gallinger, Hon. Jacob H---- (U. S. Senator: 1837-1918): helps B., 178.
“Gallops” (play): 221; 224.
Garrick, David (Eng. actor, th. man., and dramatist: 1716-1779): inspiration of dramatists of era
of,
147;
unjustly stigmatized, 310; 419.
Gatti-Casazza, Giulio (It. op. man.: 1869-19--): 214; 215.
Gay Lord Quex,” “The (play): 269.
Gest, Morris (Rus.-Am. th. man.): marriage of, to B.’s daughter, 298.
Gilbert, John Gibbs (Am. actor and st. man.: 1810-1889): 249.
Gilbert, Sir William Schwenck (Eng. dramatist and poet: 1836-1911): 85.
Gilfert, Charles (Ger.-Am. th. man.: 1787-1829): 152.
Gillette, William Hooker (Am. actor and playwright: 1855-19--): 192.
Girl I Left Behind Me,” “The (melod.): 312; 333.
GIRL OF THE GOLDEN WEST,” “THE (melod.): 67; 129;
letter to Mrs. Bates--and another to B. Bates, _re_, 194;
first performance of--and story of, epitomized and critically considered, 197,
_et
seq._;
original cast of, 201;
great dramatic merit of chief passage in--and origin of same, 202, _et seq._;
production of, “a masterpiece of stagecraft”--and wonderful storm in, described, 205,
_et
seq._;
success of, 208;
selected by Puccini as subject for opera--and that opera produced, 214;
cast of Puccini’s opera about, 215;
B.’s reminiscence of operatic production of, 216;
tribute to B. _re_ opera production of, 217; 260; 336.
Gladstone, William Ewart (Eng. statesman: 1809-1898): 163.
Goelet, Robert Walton (Am. capitalist: 1880-19--): 216.
Goethe, Johann Wolfgang von (Ger. poet, th. man., etc.: 1749-1832): 239.
Goldknopf, Abraham: his assertion that “The Woman” was stolen from his “Tainted Philanthropy,”
309;
322.
Goldsmith, Oliver (Eng. poet, dramatist, etc.: 1728-1774): 239;
quoted, _re_ eunuchs of criticasterism, 304.
GOOD LITTLE DEVIL,” “A (extravaganza): 267;
produced--and considered, 348, _et seq._;
cast of, 349.
Gordon, Mackenzie, 274.
GOVERNOR’S LADY,” “THE (play): 373;
produced--described and considered, 377, _et seq._;
cast of, 380.
“Grandfather Whitehead” (play): 249.
GRAND ARMY MAN,” “A (drama): 124;
writing of--first produced--and classification of, 249;
story of, described and critically considered, 250, _et seq._;
Warfield’s impersonation in, 250;
cast of, 256; 259; 423.
Greene, Clay M. (Am. playwright: 1850-19--): 325.
Greenberg, Joseph: 274.
Gressit, Henry (Am. th. man.): 92.
“Guillaume Tell” (opera--It.): 317.
Gunter, Archibald Clavering (Am. novelist and playwright: 1848-1907): 324.
H
Hackett, James Henry (Am. actor and th. man.: 1800-1871): 150.
Hamblin, Thomas Sowerby (Eng. Am. actor and th. man.: 1801-1853): 419.
Hammerstein, Oscar (Ger.-Am. spec. th. and op. man.: 1847-19--): oppressed
by Th. Syndicate--and offers th. to B., 50; 51; 52; 55.
Hare (Fairs), Sir John (kt., cr. 1907: Eng. actor and th. man.): 14.
Harris, Henry B. (Am. sp. th. man.: 18-- - 1912): 429.
Harris, William (Am. th. man.: 1845-1916): 429.
Harte, Francis Bret (Am. poet and journalist: 1839-1902): 66; 203.
Hartman, Louis (el. expert): 245.
HAYMAN, AL. (Am. spec. th. man. and th. proprietor: 18[52?]-1917): 19; 156;
Fiske’s allegation against, 176; 191; 429.
HEART OF MARYLAND,” “THE (melod--B.’s) : 47; 67; 151.
Heart of Mid-Lothian,” “The (play): 253.
HEART OF WETONA,” “THE (melodrama): 368; 369;
produced and critically considered, 372;
cast of, 373.
“Hearts of Oak” (melod.): 312.
Heir-at-Law,” “The (comedy): 123.
Henry the Eighth, King of England (1457-1547): 242.
Herald,” “The N. Y. (newspaper): 158.
Herne, James A[lfred] (James Ahearn: Am. actor, playwright, and stage man.:
1839-1902):
325.
Hoadley, Rev. John (Eng. dramatist: 1711-1776): 313.
Holinshed, Raphael (Eng. historian: 1520-1580): 317; 318.
Holland (Joseph, Jr.) Benefit: 193.
Holmes, Oliver Wendell (Am. poet, author, physician, lawyer: 1809-1894): 36;
62.
Holt, Hon. Henry Winston (Am. judge, 18th Jud. Dist., Va.: 1864-19--): 322.
“Home” (comedy): 123; 221.
Homer: 317.
Hopwood, Avery (Am. playwright: 1884-19--): 207; 325.
Horace: 317.
Howard, Bronson (Am. dramatist: 1843-1908): speech of, at laying cornerstone of B.’s Stuyvesant Th., 236;
319;
325.
Howe & Hummel (attorneys): 42.
Hughes, Grace B. (Mary Montague): suit of, against B.--and decision against her, 104, _et
seq._;
321.
Hummel, Abraham (lawyer): attorney against B.--and imprisonment--disbarment of, 42; 44; 91;
92;
93.
Hurlbut, William J. (Am. playwright): 206; 325.
I
Illington, Margaret (Mrs. Daniel Frohman--Mrs. Edward J. Bowes: Am. actress:
1881-19--):
90.
“In Gay New York” (extravaganza): 9.
Inspector,” “The (play): 9.
Iroquois Theatre, Chicago: destruction of--and lawsuit growing out of comment thereon, 173,
_et
seq._
IRVING, SIR HENRY (kt., cr. 1895: Eng. actor and th. man.: 1838-1905; originally, John Henry Brodribb):
82;
161;
B.’s tribute to memory of, 196, _et seq._; 216;
unjustly stigmatized, 311; 428; 429.
“IS MATRIMONY A FAILURE?” (farcical comedy): produced by B.--and, critically
considered
281;
cast of--and J. Cowl’s performance in, 283.
J
“Jack Sheppard” (novel): 336.
Jackson, Helen Hunt (Helen Maria Fiske, Mrs. Edward Bissell Hunt, Mrs. William S. Jackson: Am. novelist and poet:
1831-1885):
226.
James, David, Jr. (Eng. actor): letter of B. to, 128; 129.
Japanese Nightingale,” “A (story): 88;
dramatization of, produced, 90.
Jefferson, Joseph (the fourth: Am. actor, playwright, and stage manager: 1829-1905):
14;
performances by, 123; 124; 214.
Jerome, Jerome Klapka (Eng. novelist and dramatist: 1859-19--): injustice of, to B., 257;
258;
259.
“Jesse Brown; or, The Relief of Lucknow”: 312.
Jilt,” “The (play): 221.
Journal of a Modern Lady,” “The (satire): 316.
“Just a Wife” (play): 281;
authorship of--and critically considered, 287, _et seq._;
cast of, 289.
Justinian (Roman Emp.: 483-565): 144.
K
Kadelberg, Gustav (Ger. dramatist: 1851-19--): 281.
Kahn, Otto Hermann (Am. banker and th. patron: 1867): 216.
“Kassa” (play): 68.
Kean, Charles John (Eng. actor, th. man., and st. man.: 1811-1868): 420.
Keenan, Frank (Am. actor): 203;
in “The W. of V.,” 265.
Kemble, John Philip (Eng. actor, th. man., and dramatist: 1757-1823): unjustly stigmatized,
310;
419.
Kendal, Madge (Margaret Robertson, Mrs. William Hunter Kendal [Grimston]: Eng. actress and th. man.:
1849-19--):
268.
Kendal, William Hunter ([Grimston] Eng. actor and th. man.: 1843-1917): 268.
“King Henry VIII” (play--S.’s): 318.
KLAW & ERLANGER (Am. speculative th. mang’s. and booking agents): 17; 18; 19; 20; 22;
23;
24;
accusation against, by Warfield, 26; 89;
they produce “A Japanese Nightingale,” 90; 126; 156; 157; 172;
libel suit of, against “Life”--cause of--lost by--and significance of decision against, 174; 175; 176;
191;
275.
Klaw, Marc (Am. spec. th. man.: 1858-19--): 22; 429.
Klein, Charles (Am. dramatist: 1867-1915): engaged by B. to work on “The Auctioneer,”
11;
12;
engaged by B. to work on “The M. M.,” 114;
letter of B. to _re_ “The M. M.,” 122; 325; 341.
Knoblauch, Edward (Am.-Eng. dram.: 1874-18--): B.’s pride in producing his
“Marie-Odile”--and that play considered, 356, _et seq._
L
Lacombe, Hon. Emile Henry (Judge, U. S. Cir. Ct: 1846-19--): decision by, for B., in G. B. Hughes’ “plagiarism” suit, 104; 105;
321;
324.
“Lalla Rookh” (poem): 74.
Lancashire Witches,” “The (novel): 336.
“Lend Me Five Shillings” (farce): 123.
Leroux, Gaston (Fr. dramatist): 283.
Leslie, Henry (Eng. dramatist: 1829-1881): 312.
Leventritt, Hon. David (Judge, N. Y. Sup. Ct.: ---- -19--): grants receivership for “The
Auctioneer,”
25;
refuses mandate against Warfield, 27; 28; 90;
decision of, in favor of B., 127.
Levinsky, Arthur L.: 274.
Liebler & Co. (Am. spec. th. mang’s.): 87.
“Life” (N. Y. weekly): cartoon in, _re_ burning of Iroquois Th.--and lawsuit against, by K. &
E.,
172.
LILY,” “THE (play): 281;
adapted from Fr. by B.--produced--and critically considered, 283, _et seq._;
cast of, 287.
Lincoln Grammar School, S. F.: 271; 272; 273.
LITTLE LADY IN BLUE,” “THE (play): story of--and produced, 413;
letter about, by W. W., 414;
cast of, 416.
Livy: 317.
Locke, Edward (Am. playwright): 325; 343; 347.
Löhr, Marie (Mrs. Anthony Leyland Val Prinsep: Eng. actress: 1890-19--): acts _Yo-San_ in
London,
109.
LONG, JOHN LUTHER (Am. novelist and playwright: 1861-19--): 67;
a collaborator with B.--and plays associated with, 68; 69;
collaboration with, in a Japanese tragedy proposed by B., 71; 89;
writes “Adrea” with B., 134;
letter of, to B., _re_ “Adrea,” 135; 185;
letter to, by B., 193; 325.
Longson, Lila: 323.
“Lord Dundreary” (“Our American Cousin”): 123.
Louis the Fifteenth (King of Fr.: 1710-1774): 29; 30; 35.
Lucretius, 317.
Ludlow, Noah Miller (Am. th. man.: 1795-1886): 152.
“Lycidas” (poem): 314.
Lys,” “Le (play): 283--and see Lily,” “The.
Mc--M
McBride, J. J.: 274.
McCullough, John Edward (Ir.-Am. actor and th. man.: 1832-1885): 48; 153; 420;
428.
McKay, George L.: 322; 323.
“Macbeth”: 162; 318.
Mack, Willard (Am. actor and playwright): 325.
Mackaye, James Steele (Am. actor, th. man., playwright, inventor, etc.: 1842-1894):
244.
“Madame Butterfly” (tragedy--B.’s):
68; 71;
effect in, devised by B., 82.
“Magda” (play): 268.
Maguire, Thomas (Calif. th. man.: died, 1896): 319.
MAN INSIDE,” “THE (play): 387;
reason of B.’s interest in, 389;
critically considered, 392, _et seq._;
produced--and cast of, 393.
Managers, theatrical: accomplishment by early, 152.
Mansfield, Richard (Am. actor: 1854-1907): 48; 82; 268.
Mapes, Victor (Am. journalist and playwright: 1870-19--): 323.
Marbury, Elisabeth (Am. play broker): suggests part for Mrs. Carter--and brings B. and Richepin together,
31;
259.
Margaret, Queen of Scotland: 29.
“MARIE-ODILE” (play): method of lighting used in, by B., 248;
produced--and critically considered, 356, _et seq._
Mariner’s Compass,” “The (melodrama): 312.
Marks, Prof. Bernhard: 272; 274.
Matthews, Fannie Aymar: 320.
Maude, Cyril (Eng. actor and th. man.: 1862-19--): 128.
“May Blossom” (melod.): 67; 320.
Mayer, Hon. Julius M. (Judge U. S. Dist Ct: 1865-19--): 322; 323.
Merry Whirl,” “The (extravaganza): 9.
Middleton, George (Am. playwright): 325.
Miller, Charles A.: 274.
Millionaire’s Daughter,” “The (melod.): 319.
Milton, John (the poet: 1609-1674): 314; 317.
“Mr. Bluebeard” (extravaganza): 172.
Modjeska, Mme. Helena (Helen Opid--Mrs. Gustave S. Modrzejewska--Mrs. Charles [Karol] Bozenta Chlapowska: Polish-Am. actress: 1840-1909):
268;
431;
B.’s view of, 449.
Molière, Jean-Baptiste Poquelin de (Fr. actor, th. man., and dramatist: 1712-1763): 239; 313;
314;
317.
Molineux, Roland Burnham (chemist and playwright: 18-- -1917): charged with
murder,
387;
trials of--and acquitted, 388;
B. appealed to by his parents and agrees to read play by, 389;
revises his play--and distressing experience with, 390;
creates disturbance--and ordered out of th.--death of, 391; 392; 395.
Moore, Eva (Mrs. Henry V. Esmond [Henry V. Jack]: Eng. actress: 1870-19--):
103.
Moore, Thomas (Ir. poet: 1779-1852): 74;
quoted, _re_ “plagiarism,” 311.
Morse, Salmi (Samuel Morse: Ger.-Am. playwright: 1826-1883): 247.
Morton, Paul (Secy. Navy, U. S. A., railroad man): 183.
Murphy, Mark (actor): 9.
Murphy, Thomas (dramatist): 313.
MUSIC MASTER,” “THE (play): 8;
B. employs C. Klein to work on, 114;
first produced--authorship of--and described and critically considered, 115,
_et
seq._;
B.’s recollections _re_ writing and early performances of, etc., 118, _et
seq._;
original cast of, 120;
B.’s speech on first night of, in N. Y., 121;
letter by B. about, 122;
amazing record of, 125; 126;
Brooks’ claim _re_--and decision in favor of B., 127;
B.’s feeling about, and Warfield, 128; 192; 254.
N
New Magdalen,” “The (play): 312.
Newnes, Sir George (bart. cr. 1895: publisher: 1851-19--): 128.
Nicholson, Donald G. (Am. journalist): 160.
Nickinson, John (Can. actor): 249.
Nirdlinger, Samuel Frederick (known as S. F. Nixon: Am. spec. th. man.: 1848-19--): 19;
156;
429.
Nixon & Zimmermann (Am. spec. th. mang’s.): 191.
Nixon, S. F.: see Nirdlinger.
“NOBODY’S WIDOW” (farce): produced--and cast of, 207;
critically considered, 209, _et seq._
“No Name” (novel): 286.
Nutmeg Match,” “A (farce): 9.
O
“Ode on Immortality,” etc. (Wordsworth’s): 314.
“O’Dowd’s Neighbors” (farce): 9.
Olcott, Hon. William Morrow Knox (Am. lawyer: 1862-19--): made
receiver for “The Auctioneer,” 25; 27.
“Old Dog Tray” (song): 206.
“Old Friends”: literary recollections by W. W., 314.
“Olivia” (play): 253.
O’Neil, Nance (Gertrude Lamson: Am. actress: 1874-19--): characterized, as
actress--and her performance in “The Lily,” 286.
Only Levi,” “The (title): 11;
see Auctioneer,” “The.
Opera Singer,” “The (play, unfinished by B.): 192.
P-(Q)
Paine, Albert Bigelow (Am. writer: 1861-19--): disparagement of B. by--and
comment thereon by author, 67, _et seq._
PALMER, ALBERT MARSHALL (Am. th. man.: 1839-1905): 48; 61; 268; 319; 320.
Parisian Romance,” “A (play): 268.
Parsons, Theophilus (Am. lawyer: 17-- -18--): expounds Swedenborgian views
_re_ death, to author, 299.
Passing of the Third Floor Back,” “The (play): B. causes to be written, 257,
_et
seq._
Passion Play,” “The: in S. F., 247.
“Patrie” (melod.): 81.
Payne, William Louis (th. agent): marriage of, and Mrs. Carter, 187.
“Peter Grimm”: see Return of Peter Grimm,” “The.
PHANTOM RIVAL,” “THE (play): 248; 402;
critically considered, 403, _et seq._;
produced--and cast of, 406.
Phelps, Pauline (Am. playwright): 249; 256; 259; 325.
Pickford, Mary (motion picture perf.): 266.
“Pizarro” (tragedy): 82.
Placide, Henry (Am. actor: 1810-1870): 14; 249.
PLAGIARISM: decision _re_, for B., 104;
charges of, against B.--and whole subject thereof examined in detail, 310,
_et
seq._;
C. Reade quoted _re_, 315, _et seq._
Plautus: 317.
Plutarch: 318.
Polk, Willis: 274.
“POLLY WITH A PAST” (farce): 325;
considered, 462;
first produced, 463;
cast of--performances in, 464.
Pompadour, Jeanne Antoinette Poisson Le Normant D’Étioles, Marquise de (Fr. courtesan and political intrigante:
1721-1764):
29.
Poor Gentleman,” “The (comedy): 124.
“Pop Goes the Weasel” (song): 206.
Porter’s Knot,” “The (play): 249.
Post,” “The Washington (newspaper): letter to, by B., 180.
Potter, Mrs. James Brown (Cora Urquhart: Am.-Eng. actress and th. man.: 1859-19--): produces “Du Barri” in London--and fails in
same,
44.
Potter, Paul Meredith (Am. journalist and playwright: 1853-19--): employed
by B. to make ver. of “Under Two Flags,” 2; 325.
Price, Edward D. (Am. th. agent): 130.
Pride of Jennico,” “The (novel): 94.
Puccini, Giacomo (It. composer: 1858-19--): seeking characteristic subject
for “American” opera, 213;
selects B.’s “The Girl of the Golden West”--letter from, to B.--and writes “La Fanciulla del
West,”
212;
the same produced, 214; 216.
R
Rachel, Mlle. (Rachel Félix: Fr. actress: 1820-1858): M. Arnold’s admiration
of,
160.
Racine, Jean (Fr. dramatist and poet: 1639-1699): 239; 314.
“Ramona” (novel): 226; 231.
Reade, Charles (Eng. novelist, dramatist, and th. man.: 1815-1884): quoted
_re_ plagiarism, 315; 316; 318.
Redding, Joseph D.: 274.
Referee,” “The London: letter to, by B., 191.
Regular Fix,” “A (farce): 124.
Reinhardt, Max (Ger. actor, th. man., and stage man.: 1873-19--): 247.
Relph, George (Eng. actor): 109.
“Repka Stroon” (play--B.’s): 187.
Republic Theatre, N. Y.: that name restored to first Belasco Th., 289.
RETURN OF PETER GRIMM,” “THE (play--B.’s): 67;
Tree arranges to produce in London, 111; 124;
stage lighting in, 247;
fragmentary, unrevised notes on, 298;
critically described and considered, 299, _et seq._;
first produced--and first time of, in N. Y.--cast of, 304;
B.’s sole authorship of, questioned, 305;
and letter by B., maintaining his claim, 306; 336.
RICHEPIN, JEAN (Fr. poet, novelist, and dramatic author: 1849-19--): introduced to B.--proposes to write play about du
Barry,
31;
resultant play by, unsatisfactory to B.--and “advance royalties” paid to,
32;
his play rejected by B., 33;
his “Du Barry” lawsuit against B., 42, _et seq._;
decision against, in same suit--and his “Du Barri” produced in London, 44;
321.
Richman, Charles J. (Am. actor: 1870-19--): 233.
Rivals,” “The (comedy): 123.
Robertson, Peter (Am. journalist: 1847-1911): letter of B. to, 130;
letter of, to B., 132; 325.
Robertson, Thomas William (Eng. actor and dramatist: 1829-1871): 221.
“Robinson Crusoe” (romance): 317; 318.
ROEDER, BENJAMIN FRANKLIN (general business manager for David Belasco): 19; 20; 66; 112; 114; 188;
190;
259;
beginning of association with B., 437;
B.’s tribute to, 438;
author’s comment on, 439.
Rogers, ---- (explorer): 317; 318.
Rogers, Samuel (Eng. poet: 1763-1855): 36.
“Rosalie, the Prairie Flower” (song): 206.
ROSE OF THE RANCHO,” “THE (melod.--B.): 212;
origin of--B.’s stipulation _re_, 224;
first produced--quality of--B.’s purpose in, 225;
resemblance of, to “Ramona”--and synopsis of, 226, _et seq._;
critically considered, 229, _et seq._;
cast of, 231;
Miss Starr’s performance in, 232, _et seq._;
B.’s recollections _re_ “lighting effects” in, 234; 235; 260; 273; 294.
Russell, John H. (Am. th. man.): 9.
S
Salvini, Tommaso (It. actor and th. man.: 1829-1916): 9;
B.’s estimate of, 449.
“Sam” (farce): 123.
Sardou, Victorien (Fr. dramatist: 1831-1908): 312.
Savoy Th., London: first th. lighted by electricity, 245.
Scarborough, George (Am. playwright): 325;
letter of, to B., 326.
Schiller, Johann Christoph Friedrich von (Ger. poet, dramatist, and philosopher:
1759-1805):
239.
Schley, Winfield Scott (Admiral, U. S. N.: 1839-1911): 183; 185.
Schrader, Frederick Franklin (Am. journalist: 1857-19--): letter to, from B.,
195.
School for Scandal,” “The (comedy): 105; 311.
Schumann-Heink, Mme. Ernestine (Ger.-Am. opera singer: 1861-19--): proposes that B. undertake her management and introduce her on dramatic stage--play planned for,
etc.,
192.
Scott, Hon. Francis Markoe (Judge, N. Y. Sup. Ct.): 94.
Scott, Sir Walter (the poet and novelist: 1771-1832): 164;
remark of, _re_ originality, 313; 317; 318.
Seaver, William (Am. journalist: died, 1883): 133.
Second Mrs. Tanquerey,” “The (play): 268.
SECRET,” “THE (play): B.’s reasons for producing, 350;
qualities of--and critically considered, 352;
performance of--cast of, 355.
Secret Orchard,” “The (novel): 94.
“SEVEN CHANCES” (farce): 373; 410;
described--produced--considered, 411;
cast of, 412.
Shakespeare, William: 239; 313; 317; 318.
“Shenandoah” (melod.): 92.
Shepherd, Hon. William Bostwick (Judge, N. Dist. Fla.: 1860-19--): 323.
SHERIDAN, RICHARD BRINSLEY BUTLER (Ir.-Eng. dramatist, th. man., orator, etc.: 1751-1816):
105;
239;
defended against charge of plagiarism, 311; 313; 314.
Shiels, John Wilson, M. D.: 273; 274.
Short, Marion (Am. playwright): 249; 256; 258; 325.
Shubert, Lee (Am. spec. th. man.: 1875-19--): statement by, _re_ Syndicate, B., and Fiske,
278;
429.
Shubert, Sam. S. (Am. th. man.: 1873-1905): arranges alliance with B.--and
B.’s recollection and estimate of, 216;
death of, 217.
Shubert, the Messrs. Sam. S. & Lee, Inc. (Am. spec. th. mang’s.): B.’s alliance
with,
218.
Simon, Charles (Fr. journalist and playwright: 1850-1910): 325.
Simpson, Edmund (Am. th. man.): 150.
Singers, operatic: true histrionic impersonation not possible to, 214.
Smith, Mark, Sr. (Am. actor: 1829-1884): 250.
Smith, Winchell (Am. playwright: 1872-19--): 289; 323; 325.
Smyth, William G. (Am. th. agent): 113.
Sothern, Edward Askew (Eng. actor: 1826-1881): performances by, 123.
Sophocles: 314.
Stage aspirants: B.’s admonition to, 398, _et seq._
Stage: characteristics of, in the Present, 290;
view of, author’s--and subscribed to by B., 427.
Stage lighting: in “The Rose of the Rancho,” 234;
pioneer achievements in, 244;
B.’s study of--and influence on, 245;
in “Peter Grimm,” 247.
Star Dreamer,” “The (novel): 94.
STARR, FRANCES GRANT (Am. actress: 1886-19--): 212; 294;
birth--first appearance of, on stage--first seen by B., 221;
B.’s recollection of--and his engagement of, 222, _et seq._;
first appearance of, under B., 224;
performance of, in “The R. of R.,” 232, _et seq._; 235;
presented in “The Case of Becky”--and B.’s recollections _re_, 345;
method used by, in, 346;
B. casts, as _Gabrielle_, in “The Secret,” 352;
her performance of, 355;
as _Marie-Odile_, 360; 416.
Steele, Sir Richard (Eng. dramatist: 1672-1729): 313.
Stevenson, Charles A. (Am. actor): presents loving cup to B., on behalf of
“Du Barry” Co., 46.
Stuart, Mary, Queen o’ Scots (1542-1587): 28.
Stuyvesant Theatre, David Belasco’s: name changed to Belasco (_q.v._), 289.
Sudermann, Hermann (Ger. dramatist and novelist: 1857-19--): 268.
Sullivan, Sir Arthur Seymour (Eng. musical composer: 1842-1900): 85.
“Sweet Jasmine” (play): 331.
“SWEET KITTY BELLAIRS” (comedy--B.’s): first produced--and in N. Y., 95;
described and critically considered, 96, _et seq._;
original cast of, 102;
various productions of, 103;
B. accused of plagiarism in connection with--trial of suit--and B. vindicated, etc., 104,
_et
seq._;
letters _re_, 106, _et seq._; 111; 320; 321.
Swift, Jonathan (Dean of St. Patrick’s, Dublin: satirist: 1667-1745): 316.
SYNDICATE, THE THEATRICAL (or “Trust”): beginning of B.’s conflict with, 16;
abstract of B.’s testimony _re_ A. Erlanger and, in lawsuit by J. Brooks, etc., 17,
_et
seq._;
membership of, 19;
menace of, to B., 49;
same, 50; 112;
B. breaks with, over “The D. of G.,” 113; 128; 129; 130; 133;
climax of B.’s conflict with, reached, 151;
an examination of the whole subject of, 152;
value of B.’s opposition to, 153;
fight against, by Mr. and Mrs. H. G. Fiske--Daly opposed to, 154;
B. opposed by--Mrs. Fiske, Mme. Bernhardt, and--strove to exclude B. from Washington--and general ignorance
concerning,
155;
what it was--composition--methods, 156;
substance of pretensions of, epitomized, 157;
A. L. Erlanger on, _re_ early th. mang’s., actors, etc., quoted, 158;
author begins to be conscious of oppugnant influence of, in “N. Y. Tribune,”
161;
provisions of the covenant binding members of, 167, _et seq._;
specific instance of oppression of B. by, 170;
divergent views of, set forth, 172, _et seq._;
H. G. Fiske’s arraignment of, in “N. Y. Dramatic Mirror”--and sues Fiske
for libel, claiming $100,000 damages, 175;
Fiske’s answer to that suit, 176;
accusations _made_ against not _proved_--and reasons for believing Fiske’s accusations true, 177,
_et
seq._;
Washington closed against B. by, 179;
denounced by B. in speech, 185; 189; 191; 195;
surrenders, 274;
arrangement of, and Fiske and B., 275;
author’s view, _re_, 276; 277.
T
“Tainted Philanthropy” (play): 309; 322.
Taylor, James J.: 274.
Taylor, Howard P. (Am. journalist, playwright, etc.): 320.
TEMPERAMENTAL JOURNEY,” “THE (satirical farce): produced--theme of--and
critically considered, 383, _et seq._;
cast of, 385.
Tennyson, Alfred, first Lord (the poet: 1809-1892): 29; 239.
Thackeray, William Makepeace (Eng. novelist: 1811-1863): 162.
Theatre: first lighted by electricity, 245.
Theodora (Rom. Empress): 144.
Ticket-of-Leave Man,” “The (play): 8.
“TIGER ROSE” (melod.): 325;
how written--first produced, 465;
story of, 466, _et seq._;
L. Ulric in, 469.
Tosca,” “La (melod.): 81; 319.
Toscanini, Arturo (It. musical conductor: 18-- -19--): 213; 214; 215.
TREE (SIR HERBERT BEERBOHM-TREE, kt.: Eng. actor and th. man.: 1853-1917):
produces “The D. of G.” in London--and acts _Zakkuri_, 109;
speech of--and tribute to B., 110;
arranges to produce “The Return of Peter Grimm” in London--sudden death of,
111;
138.
Tribune,” “The N. Y. (newspaper): author begins to be conscious of power of Th. Syndicate
in,
161.
Tully, Richard Walton, (Am. actor, playwright, and th. man.: 18-- - 19--):
224; 325.
“Twelfth Night”: effect in, devised by A. Daly, 82.
Tyler, George Crouse (Am. sp. th. man.: 1867-19--): 429.
U
ULRIC, LENORE (Am. actress: 189- - 19--): 325;
B.’s opinion _re_, 366;
birth--childhood--early appearances of, 367;
impression made by, on B., at rehearsal, 368;
in “The Girl,” 369;
“The Heart of Wetona” produced with, 370;
her performance of _Wetona_, 372;
her performance of _Rose Bocion_, in “Tiger Rose”--and qualities of, 469;
470.
“Under Two Flags” (melod.): B. determines to revive, 1;
quality of--and B.’s production of, 2, _et seq._;
cast of, 6; 204.
Untermyer, Samuel (lawyer: 1858-19--): on contradictory testimony of B. and
Erlanger,
21;
his arraignment of Erlanger and the Th. Syndicate--and author’s opinion thereof, 178, _et
seq._;
179.
V
Valentinian (Rom. Emp.: 321-375): 146.
“Van Der Decken” (drama--B.’s): 67; 124.
Vanishing Bride,” “The (play): 373;
produced--and B.’s reasons for discarding, 374;
cast of, 375.
“Vathek” (“The History of the Caliph Vathek”: romance): 74.
VERY MINUTE,” “THE (play): author’s comments _re_, 416;
first produced--and cast of, 417.
Villiers, Barbara (---- - ----): 29.
Virgil: 317.
Voltaire, Jean François Marie Arouet (Fr. philosopher, dramatist, etc.: 1694-1778): on du Barry,
34;
316.
W
Wallace, Hon. William James (Judge, U. S. Cirt. Ct.: 1837-19--): 174.
Wallack, James William (the Elder: Eng.-Am. actor and th. man.: 1795-1864):
150.
WALLACK, LESTER (John Johnstone Wallack: Am. actor, th. man., and dramatist: 1820-1888): 48; 49; 61; 151; 159;
268;
420.
Walter, Eugene (Am. journalist and playwright: 1876-19--): 267;
writes “Just a Wife”--and preoccupation of mind of, 287; 325;
his “The Easiest Way,” 268.
WARFIELD, DAVID (Am. actor: 1866-19--): 6;
engaged by B.--and stipulations of their contract, 7;
B.’s recollections of, in youth--birth of, and sketch of career of, 8, _et
seq._;
probable standing of, without B.’s direction, 10;
“The Auctioneer” written for--and appearance of, in same, 11;
comment on, by B., 13;
B.’s estimate of, and author’s, as an actor--immense obligation of, to B.--as _Simon Levi_, 14; 16; 17; 18; 19;
22;
24;
refuses to act in “The A.,” except under management of B.--statements by--and judicial cognizance of same taken, 25,
_et
seq._;
mandatory injunction to, denied, 27;
long period of idleness through fidelity to B., 28; 48; 49; 51; 86;
refutes charge that B. “stole” his services, 87; 112;
B. engages C. Klein to work on “The Music Master” for, 114;
wisdom of devising _von Barwig_ for, 117;
his performance of that part, 118; 119; 120;
B. on, as _von Barwig_--not a “one part” actor, 123;
plays acted in by, 124;
amazing record of, in “The M. M.,” 125;
B.’s feeling about, and “The M. M.,” 128; 172; 192; 235;
felicitous vehicle for, 250;
his treatment of situations in “A G. A. M.,” 253;
his impersonation in “A G. A. M.”--and quality of, as actor, 254; 255;
“The Passing of the Third Floor Back” for, 257; 258; 259;
his only approaches to realm of imagination, 300;
his personation of _Peter Grimm_, 302;
quality of that performance, 303; 306.
Warren, William, Jr. (Am. actor: 1812-1888): 14; 249.
Warren, William, Sr. (Eng.-Am. actor and th. man.: 1767-1832): 152.
WARRENS OF VIRGINIA,” “THE (melod.): first produced--story of--and critically
considered,
260;
cast of, 266;
B.’s recollections of, 267.
“Washington Life” (play): 321.
Weber & Fields (Am. vaudeville mang’s.): 7; 10; 87.
Wemyss, Francis Courtney (Eng.-Am. th. man.: 1797-1859): 152.
“What’s Wrong” (play): 373;
produced, 374;
cast of, 375.
Wife,” “The (play--Knowles’): 320.
Wife,” “The (play--B.’s): 321.
Wills, William Gorman (Ir.-Eng. poet, dramatist, and novelist: 1830-1891):
93; 264.
Winthrop, Henry Rogers: 216.
Wood, William B. (Am. actor, th. man., and th. historian: 1779-1861): 152.
“Woodcock’s Little Game” (farce): 124.
Woodes, ---- (explorer): 317; 318.
Woods, Al. H. (Am. spec. th. man.: 18-- -19--): 430.
Wolff, Pierre (Fr. dramatist: 18-- -19--): 283.
WOMAN,” “THE (melod.): B. works on--and produces, 306;
characterized--described--critically considered, 307, _et seq._;
cast of--and A. Goldknopf’s charge of plagiarism in, 309; 320; 322.
Wooing of Wistaria,” “The (story): 88.
Woolsey, Col. Charles W.: 296.
Wordsworth, William (Eng. poet: 1770-1850): 314.
Worthing, Frank (George Francis Pentland: Scotch-Am. actor: 1866-1910): admirable performance
by,
282.
Wycherley, William (Eng. dramatist: _cir._ 1640-1716): 313.
(X)-Y-Z
Yaco (or Yakko), Mme. Sada (Mrs. Otto Kawakani: Japanese actress): 109.
“YEARS OF DISCRETION” (satirical farce): produced--and theme of, 281;
cast of, 282.
“Young April” (novel): 94.
Young, Waldemar: 274.
Young, William (Am. dramatist): 325
Zangarini, G. (It. librettist): 213.
“Zaza” (play--B.’s): 43;
revival of--and outrage on first night of, 91, _et seq._; 92; 269; 270; 423.
ZIMMERMAN, J. FREDERICK, Sr. (Am. spec. th. man.: 18-- -19--): 19; 156;
H. G. Fiske’s allegation against, 176; 429.
FOOTNOTES:
[1] And, preëminently, William Winter, who was not only the friend
but in many instances the guide, adviser, and assistant of all those
managers, as well as of many others: no other single person has ever,
directly and indirectly, exerted a greater or more unselfish influence
for the good of the Theatre than that of Winter.--J. W.
[2] Whence derived I do not know: obviously, it was not written by Mr.
Winter,--but it is accurate.--J. W.
[3] The first recorded instance of a theatre lighted throughout by
electricity is that of the Savoy, in London, 1882,--but I think it
probable that practical stage lighting by electricity had been achieved
in this country at an earlier date. Electric light was used to illumine
a cyclorama in Paris, France, as early as 1857,--but that, of course,
was light from a primitive arc lamp.
[4] At which time Mr. H. Granville Barker was two years old!--J. W.
[5] In the original cast: this character was cut out of the play before
the New York opening.
[6] Several other names could appropriately be added to that
list--notably, those of Willard Mack (whose play of “Tiger Rose” owes
its extraordinary success entirely to the revision and stage management
of Belasco and the remarkably interesting and sympathetic acting of
Miss Lenore Ulric), George Middleton, and Guy Bolton. Messrs. Middleton
and Bolton figure as authors of “Polly with a Past,”--which, though it
is an extremely slender farce, was one of the few substantial successes
of the current (1917-’18) theatrical season: it was entirely reshaped
and made practicable by Belasco.--J. W.
[7] Lester Wallack’s last appearance on the stage occurred May 29,
1886, at the Grand Opera House, New York, and Wallack’s Company was
then disbanded. He was born January 1, 1820, and died September 6,
1888. He surrendered his theatre into the hands of Theodore Moss in
1887, being then sixty-seven years old. Moss had a considerable part in
the management of Wallack’s Theatre for several years before that.
Beerbohm-Tree, referred to above as “Belasco’s only competitor,” died,
July 2, 1917, in his sixty-fourth year. He was five months younger than
Belasco was at that time.
[8] At Wallack’s Theatre, March 19, 1896, by Mr. and Mrs. Robert Taber
(Julia Marlowe): see “Shakespeare on the Stage--Third Series,” page
370.--J. W.
[9] =GRAND OPERA HOUSE, CHICAGO, THURSDAY MATINEE=:--
April 19, 1906. A special performance in honor of Mme. Sarah Bernhardt.
David Belasco presents Mrs. Leslie Carter in “Adrea.”
*** End of this LibraryBlog Digital Book "The Life of David Belasco; vol 2" ***
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