he made about this time he gave evidence
of his constant humor.

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

"Where are you going?" asked the man.

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

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

"No, I want to see him personally."

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

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

"Why did you discharge me, Mr. Frohman?"

Frohman smiled and said: "Well, it was the only way that I could get
back to see my actors. If you will promise to be good I will re-engage
you." And he did.

* * *

It was on a trip of this same kind that Charles had one of his many
narrow escapes from death. During the spring of 1883 he went out to Ohio
with Daniel to visit some of the road companies. Daniel left him at
Cleveland to go over and see a performance of "The Professor" at
Newcastle, while Charles went on to join Gustave at Cincinnati.

Charles was accompanied by Frank Guthrie, who was a sort of confidential
secretary to all the Frohmans at the theater. Shortly before the train
reached Galion, Charles, who sat at the aisle, asked his companion to
change places. Ten minutes later the train was wrecked. Guthrie, who sat
on the aisle seat, was hurled through the window and instantly killed,
while Charles escaped unhurt.

Daniel heard of the wreck, rushed to the scene on a relief train,
expecting to find his brother dead, for there had been a report that he
was killed. Instead he found Charles bemoaning the death of his
secretary.

A month afterward Charles and Marc Klaw were riding in the elevator at
the Monongahela House in Pittsburg when the cable broke and the car
dropped four stories. It had just been equipped with an air cushion, and
the men escaped without a scratch.

* * *

Along toward the middle of 1883 there were signs of a break at the
Madison Square Theater. Steele Mackaye had quarreled with the Mallorys
and had left, taking Gustave with him to launch the new Lyceum Theater
on Fourth Avenue and Twenty-third Street. Daniel was becoming ambitious
to strike out for himself, while Charle