Despite the hardships, the utmost good humor and feeling prevailed. Most of the members of the company were young; there was no bickering. They knew that Frohman's struggle was with and for them. They called him "The Governor," and he always referred to them as his "nice little company." All looked forward confidently to better days, and in this belief they were supported and inspired by the cheery philosophy of the manager.
Charles's resource was tested daily. He had booked a near-by town for fair week, which always meant good business. At last he had money in sight. The local manager, however, insisted upon a great display of fancy printing. Charles was in a dilemma because he owed his printer a big bill and he had no more lithographs on hand. A friend who was in advance of William Gillette's play, "The Private Secretary," came along with a lot of his own paper. Charles borrowed a quantity of it and also from the "Whose Baby Are You?" company, covered over these two titles with slips containing the words "Lady Clare," the piece he was going to present. He billed the town with great success and was able to keep going.
During the Portland sojourn Charles sent the company on to Salem, Oregon. While there, six members had their photographs taken with a disconsolate look on their faces and with Buckstone holding a dollar in his hand. They sent the picture to Frohman with the inscription:
"From your nice little company waiting for its salary."
At Portland, Oregon, A. D. Charlton, who was passenger agent of the Northern Pacific Railroad, and who had been of great service to Charles in extricating him from various financial difficulties, said to him one day:
"Frohman, I want you to meet a very promising little actress who is out here with her mother."
Frohman said he would be glad, and, accompanying Charlton to his office, was introduced to Annie Adams, a well-known actress from Salt Lake City, and her wistful-eyed little daughter, Maude. They were both members of the John McGuire Company. This was Charles Frohman's first meeting with Maude Adams.
At Portland Frohman added "Two Orphans" and "Esmeralda" to the company's repertoire. But it barely got them out of town at the really and truly "farewell."
Now began a return journey from Portland that was even more precarious than the trip out. Baggage had to be sacrificed; there was scarcely any scenery. One "back drop" showing the interior of a cathedral was used for every kind of scene, from a gambling-house to a ball-room. To the financial hardship of the homeward trip was added real physical trial. Frohman showed in towns wherever there was the least prospect of any kind of a house. The company therefore played in skating-rinks, school-houses, even barns. In some places the members of the company had to take the oil-lamps that served as footlights back in the makeshift dressing-rooms while they dressed.
At Bozeman, Montana, occurred an incident which showed both the humor and the precariousness of the situation. Frohman assembled the company in the waiting-room of the station and, stepping up to the ticket-office, laid down one hundred and thirty dollars in cash.