"Then I took to imitating the actors for the benefit of my comrades on the usher staff—and sometimes to the enjoyment of those higher up in the government of the theater. I remember that once while Mansfield was playing in the house I was doing a travesty on him for the edification of the Slocum brothers, his managers at the time, when the mighty Richard himself walked into the room and discovered me. What he said I don't remember now, but it went home at the time all right, and it's a wonder I didn't go there too.
"After Mansfield, 'Rob Roy,' the comic opera, held the boards at the Herald Square for quite a time. Joe Herbert, one of the comedians, left the cast, and Dave Warfield was picked to succeed him. But he couldn't seem to remember the lines and business of the part. I was pat on it from seeing the show every night from the front, so I remember one time after the performance Warfield got me to coach him in a sort of parlor off to the left of the auditorium.
A Series of Discouragements.
"Naturally, my imitations of other people suggested to some of the boys that I might be able to act myself, and one fellow I had met got up a performance in a town on Long Island. Well, I went on, and when I came off they shipped me back to New York as the worst actor they had ever seen—and it was a sort of amateur show at that. This touched my pride and fired my determination, so when I lost my job as usher by 'grafting' on seats, I made up my mind that I would be a regular actor and show my critics that they had been mistaken.
"But how to get a chance? That was the mighty question. In this emergency I turned to Ben Roeder, manager for David Belasco, whom I had met when 'The Heart of Maryland' was at the Herald Square. I went up to the offices, which were then in Carnegie Hall, told Mr. Roeder that I was out of a job and must get something as quickly as possible.
"After thinking a bit, he said that the only company not wholly filled, of which he knew, was that being gathered for William Gillette in 'Secret Service.' He gave me a card of introduction to the stage manager, and I hustled down to the Garrick Theater.
"'Nothing doing,' I was told. Everything was filled, even to the extra men.
How Selwyn Held Up Gillette.
"Then what do you think I did? I was desperate, you see. The fifty cents a performance I had been getting at the Herald Square as usher did not enable me to pile up a very big sum against a rainy day such as had now overtaken me. I determined to see Mr. Gillette himself. I found out that he was staying at the Plaza Hotel. I went up there, wrote on a card, 'Edgar Selwyn. Important,' and sent it up to him.
"Pretty soon the message came down that he would see me.