The manager of a Philadelphia theatre, where I was to open after the engagement at the Fifth Avenue, came over and saw our performance of "Ambition" (to a $90 house) and entered a most violent objection to my appearing at his theatre in that play. I informed him that I had nothing which I could substitute and that it would take me at least two weeks to prepare any of the plays in my repertoire with the exception of "David Garrick." There was no alternative; he must accept "Ambition" or close his theatre. He concluded to take a chance and one of those psychological events which shapes the destinies of players took place.
We opened to nearly twelve hundred dollars—and that was the lightest house of the engagement! We played to capacity business there and everywhere all through that season. It proved to be one of my greatest successes.
I never understood Carlton's failure to furnish the play as he had agreed until a few days after I opened in Philadelphia I read the announcement of the production of a new play of his by a manager who had previously refused to give him a hearing. He forgot (!) I had lifted him from the streets of Boston, clothed him, loaned him money, and taken him to my mother's home. He forgot (!) that when he became suddenly ill it was my mother who nursed him back to health as if he were one of her own children!
The last time that I saw this gifted but ungrateful man was a few years ago at Atlantic City. He was a physical wreck, but mentally a giant still. He had invented some new electric appliance and his mind scintillated as I had never known it to scintillate before. I knew he was doomed and felt grieved. I left his chamber with a heavy heart.
Since writing this poor Carlton has joined the majority.
Ticket Sale for In Mizzoura