played
the leading role in the English production. He surrounded Girardot with
an admirable cast, including W. J. Ferguson, Frank Burbeck, Henry
Woodruff, Nanette Comstock, and Jessie Busley.

Frohman personally rehearsed "Charley's Aunt." He tried it out first at
Bethlehem, Pennsylvania, where the reception was not particularly
cordial. He returned to New York in a great state of apprehension,
although his good spirits were never dampened. On October 2, 1893, he
produced the play at the Standard, and it was an immediate success. As
the curtain went down on the first night's performance he assembled the
company on the stage and made a short speech, thanking them for their
co-operation. It was the first time in his career that he had done this,
and it showed how keenly concerned he was. It was another "Shenandoah,"
because it recouped his purse, depleted from numerous outside ventures,
inspired him with a fresh zeal, and enabled him to proceed with fresh
enterprises. It ran for two hundred nights, and then duplicated its New
York success on the road.

While gunning for "Charley's Aunt," Charles Frohman made his first
London production with "The Lost Paradise." He put it on in partnership
with the Gattis, at the Adelphi Theater in the Strand. It was a failure,
however, and it discouraged him from producing in England for some
little time.

These were the years when Frohman was making the few intimate
friendships that would mean so much to him until the closing hours of
his life. That of Charles Dillingham is an important one.

Dillingham had been a newspaper man in Chicago at a time when George
Ade, Peter Dunne, and Frank Vanderlip (now president of the National
City Bank) were his co-workers. He became secretary to Senator Squire,
and at Washington wrote a play called "Twelve P.M." A manager named
Frank Williams produced it in the old Bijou Theater, New York, just
about the time that Charles Frohman was presenting John Drew across the
street in "The Masked Ball." Dillingham had previously come on to New
York, and his hopes, naturally, were in the play. "Twelve P.M." was a
dismal failure, but it brought two unusual men together who became bosom
friends. It came about in this extraordinary way:

During the second (and last) week of the engagement of "Twelve P.M." at
the Bijou, Dillingham, who came every night to see his play, noticed a
short, stout, but important-looking man pass into the playhouse.

"Who is that m