the high tide of his extraordinary career. He was in
many respects the amusement dictator of his time. Beginning as owner of
a small variety theater in Toledo, Ohio, he had risen to be the manager
of half a dozen important theaters in New York, Chicago, and
Philadelphia. Not less than ten traveling companies bore his name.

By instinct a plunger, his daring deals became the theatrical talk of
the country. He was a dashing and conspicuous figure; his spacious
shirt-front shone with diamonds, and he wore a large flat-crowned stiff
hat in which he carried all his correspondence and private papers.

Haverly specialized in minstrels, for he was a genius at capitalizing
the enthusiasm of the theater-going public. Just at this time he was
launching the greatest of all his traveling enterprises. To meet the
competition of the newly formed Barlow, Wilson, Primrose and West
minstrels he decided to merge all his white minstrel companies into the
Haverly Mastodons. It was to include forty star performers, more than
had ever before been assembled in a minstrel organization. So proud was
Haverly of this total that the advertising slogan of the company, which
was echoed from coast to coast, and which became a popular theatrical
phrase everywhere, was "Forty--Count 'Em--Forty."

Gustave found Haverly in the throes of Mastodon-making. Always
solicitous of the family interest, he asked him if he had engaged a
treasurer. When Haverly replied that he had not, Gustave immediately
spoke up:

"Why don't you hire my brother Charley? He has had experience on the
road."

"All right, Gus," he replied. "I've got two Frohmans with me now. If
Charley is as good as they are, he is all right."

Thus it came about that for the first time the three Frohman brothers
were associated under the same employer.

Gustave wired the good news and transportation to the eager and
impatient Charles, who had irked under the inactivity of a hot summer in
New York. Gustave added ten dollars and instructed his brother to buy a
new suit, for the Frohman family funds were in a more or less sad way.

Henry Frohman's generosity and his absolute inability to press the
payment of debts due him had brought the father to a state of financial
embarrassment, and the burden of the family support fell upon the sons.

In a few days Charles showed up smiling in Chicago, but he had suffered
disaster on the way. The ten-dollar "hand-me-down" suit had faded
overnight, and whe