y over the coming event.
With that family feeling which has marked the Frohmans throughout their
whole life, Gustave hurried down-town to notify their eldest brother to
be on hand for the grand occasion.

Charles ate no supper, and was at the stage-door long before seven.
Rigged up in a faded costume, he carried a banner during the
performance. His two elder brothers sat in the gallery. All they saw in
the entire brilliant spectacle was the little Charles and his faded
flag.

Charles got twenty-five cents for his evening's work, and brought it
home bubbling with pride. To his great consternation he received a
rebuke from his mother and the strong injunction never to appear on the
stage again.

This was Charles Frohman's first and only appearance on any stage. In
the years to come, although he controlled and directed hundreds of
productions, gave employment to thousands of actors in this country,
England, and France, and ruled the destinies of scores of theaters, he
never appeared in a single performance. Nor had he a desire to appear.

* * *

It will be recalled that in one way or another a great many passes for
the theater found their way into the hands of the elder Frohman, who, in
his great generosity of heart, frequently took many of the neighboring
children along. He was the type of man who loves to bestow pleasure. But
this made no difference with Charles. He was usually able to wring an
extra pass from the bill-poster or some of the actors who frequented the
store. Hence came about his first contract, and in this fashion: At that
time Gustave Frohman was a famous cyclist. He was the first man to keep
a wheel stationary, and he won prizes for doing so. He had purchased his
bicycle with savings out of the theatrical earnings, and his bicycle and
his riding became a source of great envy to Charles, who asked him one
night if he would teach him how to ride.

"Yes," replied Gustave, "I'll teach you if you will make a contract with
me to provide five dollars' worth of passes in return."

"Good!" said Charles, and the deal was closed.

Gustave kept his word, and down in Washington Place, in front of the
residence of old Commodore Vanderbilt, Charles learned to ride. He kept
his part of the contract, too, and delivered five dollars' worth of
passes ahead of schedule time.

One of Gustave's cycling companions was the son of George Vandenhoff,
the famous reader. Through him he met the father, who engaged him to