llow-managers combined. It was the
very instinct of his life to develop talent, and it gave him an
extraordinary satisfaction to see the artist emerge from the background
into fame.

His attitude in the matter of star-making was never better expressed
than in one of his many playful moods with the pencil. Like Caruso, he
was a caricaturist. Few things gave him more delight than to make a
hasty sketch of one of his friends on any scrap of paper that lay near
at hand. He usually made these sketches just as he wrote most of his
personal letters, with a heavy blue pencil.

On one occasion he was talking with Pauline Chase about making stars. A
smile suddenly burst over his face; he seized pencil and paper and made
a sketch of himself walking along at night and pointing to the moon with
his stick. Under the picture he wrote, as if addressing the moon:

_Watch out, or I'll make a star out of you._

Once he said to Billie Burke, in discussing this familiar star
subject:

"A star has a unique value in a play. It concentrates interest. In some
respects a play is like a dinner. To be a success, no matter how
splendidly served, the menu should always have one unique and striking
dish that, despite its elaborate gastronomic surroundings, must long be
remembered. This is one reason why you need a star in a play."

[Illustration: _MARIE TEMPEST_]

[Illustration: _MME. NAZIMOVA_]

Despite the fact, as the case of Ann Murdock shows, that Charles could
literally lift a girl from the ranks almost overnight, he generally
regarded the approach to stardom as a difficult and hard-won path. Just
before the great European war, he made this comment to a well-known
English journalist, who asked him how he made stars:

"Each of my stars has earned his or her position through honest
advancement. If the President of the United States wants to reward a
soldier he says to him, 'I will make you a general.' By the same process
I say to an actor, 'I will make you a star.'

"All the stars under my management owe their eminence to their own
ability and industry, and also to the fact that the American is an
individual-loving public. In America we regard the workman first and the
work second. Our imaginations are fired not nearly so much by great
deeds as by great doers. There are stars in every walk of American life.
It has always been so with democracies. Caesar, Cicero, and the rest were
public stars when Rome was at her best, just as in