image:
Rob
Betz Collection
(New York Times, 16 May 1915)
image:
Cleveland Plain Dealer,
Sunday 9 May 1915, Page 10.
Charles Frohman, 54, was born on 17 June 1860 in Sandusky, Ohio, United
States. Charles had an older brother by four years, Daniel,
and another brother Gustave. When Charles was 14, the Frohmans
moved to New York City, and Charles took a job as night clerk for the New
York Graphic. The Graphic sent him to sell the paper
in Philadephia in 1876 at the Centennial Exposition and took charge of
the newsboys. Frohman then moved to the New York Tribune
where he worked by day and sold theater tickets at night. The
next year he joined his brother Daniel in management.
In 1880, Charles went to Boston for the opening of the play Shenandoah.
Even though he only had fifty cents in his pocket, by the end of
the night he had secured the play's road rights. From then on,
Frohman was on his way to fame and fortune.
Frohman took over Proctor's Theater and started the Charles Frohman
Stock Company ten years later. Three years later Charles Frohman
built his own theater, the Empire. With his brothers, Charles
became a leading theatrical impresario. In 1895, Frohman, with Al
Hayman, Mark Klaw, Abe Erlanger, Sam Nixon, and Fred Zimmerman formed
the Theatrical Syndicate, otherwise known as the Trust. The Trust
systemized booking networks throughout the United States, but also
monopolized every aspect of theater production under the end of World
War I. By 1900, Charles Frohman was the leading producer of plays
in New York and London.
Charles Frohman is also credited with overseeing the transition of
Broadway going from a stock system to a star system. Frohman
often chose which actors he would use first, then selected a play that
would showcase his stars' abilities. Among Frohman's principle
American stars were Edna May, John Drew, Ethel Barrymore, and Nat
Goodwin. In England, his stars were George du Maurier, Marie
Tempest, Seymour Hicks, and Ellaline Terris. His
power over his stars was considered "almost hypnotic" (Hickey/Smith,
21).
He spent hours selecting costumes, coached actors in their parts,
advised them as to which hotel to choose, and often sent gifts of
books,
flowers, and candy. In twenty-five years, only one actress dared
to challenge him, Mrs. Patrick Campbell. When she rejected
Charley's
criticisms
of her acting in saying that she was an artiste, Frohman
answered,
"Madam, your secret is safe with me."
Even so, some stars were not too happy with Frohman's preference to
lightweight material over more serious dramas. In 1905, Frohman
bought the rights of a James Matthew Barrie play that others wouldn't
consider because it was "madness." Frohman cast a woman, Maude
Adams, in
the title role and made theater history. Peter Pan made
fortunes for Adams, Barrie, and of course, Frohman. Nevertheless,
Frohman was worried that the future of the American stage. Late
in his career, Frohman realized that the star system made
audiences care only about the star and not the play's content, thereby
belittling the
artist merit of the theater that he had worked so hard to build.
Frohman predicted that the theater of the future would be filled
with "popular drama, bloody, murderous, ousting drawing-room comedy.
Crook plays, shop-girl plays, slangy American farces, nude women
invading the
auditorium as in Paris. Fortunately," he remarked prophetically,
"you and I won't live to see
it."
In 1910, Frohman founded a repertory theater in London at the Duke of
York's. By 1915 Frohman produced more than 700 shows, employed an
average of 700 actors a season, and paid salaries totalling $25 000
a week. At the height of his power, Frohman controlled five
theaters in London,
six in New York City, and over two hundred throughout the rest of the
United States. While some may consider Charles Frohman to have
been a
ruthless businessman, his dedication to the theater consumed a great
deal of his self-made fortune and the stars under his management had an
undying loyalty to him and his company.
Rumors persisted that he had secretly married Maude Adams.
Frohman lived a very private life for his profession and encouraged his
actors to do the same. Despite his sweet tooth, he never dined at
fashionable restaurants, and no one knew when he went to bed. He
was
very shy and would go out of his way to cross the street so that he
would not run into one of his stars in public. He also would
rarely go
to a show on opening night and prefered to stay in a nearby hotel room
or restaurant while runners gave him news as to how the audience was
reacting. After a fall
on his porch in his house in White Plains, New York, in 1912 he
suffered
from arthritis and was so in pain that he needed a cane, which he
called
his "wife," to get around. He practically became an invalid and
actors
came to his apartment at the Knickerbocker Hotel to tend to his needs.
Frohman was also afraid of the dark and pleaded for Paul Potter
to
tell him stories until he fell asleep.
Even though Frohman usually made his visits to Europe in
the autumn to his "London Playmarket" or "Paris Playmarket," at the
invitation of James Barrie, Charles Frohman would make his 1915 trip in
May with
his valet, William Stainton on the Lusitania.
Gaby Deslys would be performing in
Barrie's Rosy Rapture, the Pride of the Beauty Chorus, with
music
by Jerome Kern, at the Duke of York Theater. In production at
that
time were The Shadow, starring Ethel Barrymore, and A
Celebrated
Case, a joint production with David Belasco which Margaret and Alfred
Vanderbilt had seen
the night before the latter's sailing on the Lusitania as well.
As it was wartime and the Lusitania was a British ship,
several of Frohman's friends tried to dissuade him from sailing.
John
Drew telegrammed him, saying, "I'LL NEVER FORGIVE YOU IF YOU GET BLOWN
UP BY A SUBMARINE."
Frohman gave the pretense of dismissing their fears, but he took the
precaution of dictating his entire program for the next season before
sailing, something that was unprecedented for him. As with Alfred
Vanderbilt, Frohman, too, received a mysterious telegram foretelling
doom should he sail on the ocean greyhound. Frohman's friend Al
Hayman pointed out that the American Liner New York was also
sailing
on 1 May, at noon, and would arrive in Liverpool just one day later
than
the Lusitania. Ellen Terry and Isadora Duncan would be on
the slower ship. Frohman answered jokingly, "Well, Al, if you
want
to write to me, just address the letter care of the German Submarine,
U-4."
To another, Frohman said, "When you consider all the stars I have
managed, mere submarines make me smile."
Paul Potter asked, "Aren't you afraid of the U-boats, C. F.?"
"No," Frohman replied, "I am only afraid of the I.O.U.'s."
On board the Lusitania,
Frohman briefly stood with Captain
Turner and Alfred Vanderbilt for the press to have a field
day. Both Turner and Vanderbilt dismissed the warnings issued by
the German Embassy. When asked why Frohman wasn't sailing with
Ellen Terry on the New York,
he answered by saying that actress Rita
Jolivet was sailing with them on the Lusitania. Frohman then
retired to his room, B-75, where
he would read his first batch
of new playscripts and eat candy. Maude Adams had sent a
bon-voyage basket filled with flowers, fruit, and candy in the shape of
a ship. In a thank-you note that the ship's pilot delivered,
Charles Frohman wrote to Maude: "This little ship you sent is more
wonderful than the big one that takes me away from you."
Frohman's onboard entourage included actresses Rita Jolivet and Josephine Brandell, playwrights Charles Klein and Justus Miles Forman, Rita's brother-in-law George Vernon, and Rita's admirer Wallace Phillips. Justus Forman's
first play, The Hyphen,
had misfired, but Frohman reassured the writer, "Charley will introduce
you to the best theater people in London."
For most of the voyage, however, Charles Frohman spent his time in his
cabin, working away, even though Maude Adams had begged him, "Please
rest, C.F." With his portable phonograph playing his favorite
record, Irving Berlin's "Alexander's Ragtime Band," Frohman took a good
number of his meals in his suite. He would refuse many
invitations
from his friends to join them. His right knee bothered him too
much
to do much walking. On Tuesday, 4 May, Frohman asked Stainton to
call for Dr. James McDermott, as Frohman's leg pain had worsened.
The theater impresario said to the doctor, "This is not one of my
good days."
On 6 May, Frohman made a rare apperance at the ship's concert with
his entourage. Afterwards, Frohman entertained his
theatrical friends with a party in
his suite. This was Frohman's chance to make up
for isolating himself for most of the voyage. Even though the Lusitania wouldn't be arriving in
Liverpool until Saturday morning, a party Thursday night was better
than one on Friday night as people would be packing then. Alfred
Vanderbilt made a brief appearance, as did Captain Turner
and Staff Captain Anderson. Frohman even made sure to invite the
ship's barbers, Lott Gadd and Reg Nice. Others were impressed by
Frohman's sense of democracy. George Vernon then reminded Frohman
of his plans to present plays onboard the Lusitania's sister
ship,
Mauretania. Frohman then recalled, "Yes, I did dream of a
mid-Atlantic theater, but my leading lady succumbed to mal de mer."
At lunch the next day, Frohman sat with his theatrical friends
at the dining room's center table. Afterwards, he, George Vernon,
and Captain Alick Scott were on the portside Boat Deck, chatting by the
verandah café, when the torpedo hit. Still puffing on his
cigar, Frohman said, "This is going to be a close call."
"Stay there!" Scott told them, "I'll fetch some lifejackets."
"Why not stay where you are, Captain Scott?" Frohman asked, "We
shall have more chance by staying here than dashing off to the boats."
Scott insisted and he returned with two, one for Frohman and another
for Vernon. A terrified Rita Jolivet soon joined them on deck
and George helped her put on her lifebelt. Frohman accepted
Scott's lifejacket reluctantly. Scott went below a second time
for more
lifebelts, but gave those away. Frohman, Vernon, and Jolivet all
offered Scott their lifejackets, but Scott answered, "If I am going to
die, it's only for once."
Frohman soon gave his lifejacket away to a woman. Holding his
cigar, he
remarked almost conversationally, "I didn't think they would do it."
The four agreed to stay together on the port side near the verandah
café as the ship was sinking. When the ship
lurched, Frohman told Rita to hang on to the railing and save her
strength. To the end Charles Frohman was calm, quoting Barrie's Peter
Pan, "Why fear death? It is the most beautiful adventure in
life."*
Rita recognized the quote, but was then seized by the sudden fear that
Frohman, who needed a cane to support himself, would not be able to
manage in the water. At that moment, a "green cliff of water"
forcibly parted the group (Preston, 237).
The night of the sinking, John Ryland, one of Frohman's office staff
at the Empire Theater in New York, was inspecting the building at
closing time when he saw Charles sitting at his desk in his
fifth-floor office. The light was on, and Frohman was looking
over all of his
pictures and theater memorabilia that he had laid out on top of his
desk. Ryland was
perplexed, as he had seen Charles off on the Lusitania only a few days
prior. The staffer asked why Frohman was back and if there was
anything he could do. Frohman shook his head, saying, "No, you
can't help me, John. Just leave me alone here for a few
minutes. Thanks -- and goodbye."
Ryland left the room and soon returned with the house manager, two box
office boys, a press agent, and Frohman's office boy Peter Mason, all
of them unbelieving. Frohman's office was dark, empty,
and everything was where it was supposed to be. The men laughed
at Ryland, although some were unsettled by his insistence of what he
saw. After hearing of
Frohman's death, Ryland swore off going back to Frohman's office again
despite continuing to work at the theater for the next twenty-some
years.
Charles Frohman's body was recovered, #24. According to Oliver Bernard, who saw him in
Queenstown's impromptu morgue, Frohman's body looked peaceful, as if he
never even put up a struggle against the sea. When Maude Adams,
preparing for a performance of Barrie's Quality Street, heard
of Frohman's death, she collapsed. The management was prepared to
call off the show, but Maude insisted that she would perform.
Frohman's body arrived back in New York City on Monday, 24 May 1915.
Private funeral services were held at Daniel’s home at 145 West
79th Street, New York City. Public services were held at Temple
Emmanu-El on Tuesday, 25 May 1915 at 10 a.m., at 5th Avenue and 43rd
Street, officiated by Rev. Dr. Silverman. John Barrymore was one
of the honorary pallbearers. Simultaneously, memorial services
were held in other places around the United States and in
England. Miss Billie Burke arranged services at a synagogue in
Tacoma, Washington. Maude Adams arranged services at a synagogue
in Los Angeles, California and retired from acting upon his death.
She would make occasional reappearances but never married.
Maude died in 1953 at the age of eighty. Daniel Frohman formed a
company that would manage his brother's theatrical stars and died on 26
December 1940.
* The actual line in Barrie's
play at the end of Act III, spoken by Peter Pan, is "To die would be an
awfully big adventure." This line has gone through several
incarnations, including "Why fear death? It is life's most
beautiful adventure" (Lest We Forget), "Why fear death? It
is the most beautiful adventure in life" (Hoehling/Hoehling, 150), and
"Why fear death? It is the most beautiful adventure life gives
us" (Preston, 237). Only Hickey/Smith, 222, quotes from the play,
saying, "To die would be an awfully big adventure." Contributors: Rob Betz
Michael Poirier
Judith Tavares
References:
Barrie, Sir James M. The Plays of J. M. Barrie in One
Volume. Charles Scribner's Sons, 1928.
