Belasco withdrew from the Baldwin Theatre company immediately after the “run” of “Not Guilty.” He was in danger of becoming exhausted by over-work and he was resentful of mean treatment to which he had been subjected. Lewis Morrison, who had suggested Phillips’ old spectacle for alteration, and Frederick Lyster, who had caused the introduction in it of music selected from the opera of “Carmen,” by connivance with Maguire, charged a “royalty” of twelve per cent. against the gross receipts from representations of that play, although Belasco was paid for his service only about one per cent. This injustice, coming to the knowledge of Baldwin, greatly incensed him, and in order to remedy it he gave to Belasco $1,000. With that sum added to his savings he felt at liberty to desist for a time from the exacting requirements of employment under Maguire, but in about two months he had resumed his old position, going back at the earnest request of Herne. In his “Story” he gives the following account of his experience in the interim:
“J. M. Hill, the pioneer of page advertising, brought Denman Thompson to the Bush Street Theatre in ’Joshua Whitcomb,’ startling San Francisco by a lavish press work, which had never been heard of before. ’Young man,’ Hill said to me, ’I want you to see Thompson, and to study him. If you find him a play, there may be a fortune in it for you.’ When I met Thompson afterwards and he suggested that we collaborate, I told him that such a proposition was quite impossible, but that I had been working on a play not yet finished, [“The Lone Pine”] and that I would send it to him. I told him and Hill the gist of the story, and then and there the latter drew up a contract, giving me a retainer of $1,000 and tempting me with the proposition that were the piece a success I might get eight hundred a week out of it. In due course of time I completed two acts and sent them on to him in New York. Soon I received a message: ’We like your manuscript. Bring acts three and four yourself. Railroad fares arranged.’ When I reached New York I went to the Union Square Hotel and there met Hill and Thompson again. It was like giving a part of myself when I handed over the Third Act of ’The Lone Pine.’ To my dismay, Thompson began to give suggestions, explaining what he intended to do, making of his part a youthful Joshua Whitcomb, with a fine sprinkling of slang and curses, and although I knew that if I could give this man a successful play I could make a fortune—thirty-two hundred a month, perhaps more!—I could not bring myself to do it. I went to my hotel and wrote Hill a letter, explaining the conclusion I had come to, and returning the thousand dollars retaining fee. But Hill would hear none of this and grew very angry trying to make me see Thompson’s point of view and sending back the retainer. To avoid any further discussion, I boarded a train and left New York, having seen very little of the city. Hill’s parting message was: ’If I don’t produce that play, no one shall.’ They never returned my manuscript, and years after, when I was stage-manager at the Madison Square, I thought that it would be a fitting successor to my ’May Blossom,’ which I had just produced. So I went to Dr. Mallory and told him of the Thompson-Hill episode. He had a streak of the fighter in him, and suggested that I sue Hill for the recovery of the manuscript. After some preliminary proceedings we were persuaded that Hill had actually lost the manuscript, even though he still refused to release me from my contract. So the suit was withdrawn, for there was nothing to go upon.
“During the days when Hill was manager of the New York Standard Theatre we met again, and I did some work for him. It was then that he returned me my contract. Then, a miracle of miracles happened, at the time of the razing of the Union Square Hotel. The clerk sent for Mr. Ryan (who afterwards played in ’Naughty Anthony’), and told him that in one of the back rooms he had found a bundle of papers behind some old books. My lost manuscript was at last found! Some day I may finish it for David Warfield.”
“WITHIN AN INCH OF HIS LIFE.”
Belasco was re-employed by Maguire during the first days of February, 1879, and he at once resumed his multiform labor as stage manager, prompter, and playwright. The Baldwin Theatre was profitably occupied by the Wilson, Primrose & West Minstrel Company and his first work was done at the Grand Opera House, which Maguire had leased, and where, February 17, “the legitimate company from Baldwin’s” appeared in Belasco’s dramatization of Gaboriau’s story of “Within an Inch of His Life.” This melodrama, advertised as “the most powerful play ever acted,” was the product of “a week of strenuous days and sleepless nights,” it was produced as a stopgap, and—so Belasco writes—“the makeshift, like so many accidental productions, was an instant success.” That success was, in large part, due to a striking mechanical effect, devised and introduced by Belasco, representative of a conflagration, described in the newspapers of the day as “the terrific fire spectacle,” about which its inventor has given me this information: “The fire was in the First Act. I did away with the lycopodium boxes and made my ’flames’ by a series of red and yellow strips of silk, fanned from beneath by bellows and lit by colored lights. Some complaint was made of danger to the theatre and the authorities came upon the stage to investigate: they were a good deal nonplussed at finding the ’fire’ nothing but pieces of silk!”
“Within an Inch of His Life” was acted at the Grand Opera House until March 1, when it was withdrawn to make way for “The Passion.” This was the cast of its original production:
| Jules de Dardeville | James O’Neill. |
| Dr. Seignebos | J. W. Jennings. |
| Count de Clairnot | James A. Herne. |
| Falpin | A. D. Bradley. |
| Reibolt | William Seymour. |
| Gauchey | John N. Long. |
| Cocolean | Lewis Morrison. |
| Countess de Clairnot | Rose Wood. |
| Dionysia Chandore | Katherine Corcoran. |
SALMI MORSE’S “PASSION PLAY.”
At about the beginning of February, 1879, the popular and distinguished actor James O’Neill, now long famous for his performance of Monte Cristo, became enthusiastically interested in a spectacle drama by Salmi Morse (1826-1884), called “The Passion Play,” the presentment of which that author had long been earnestly but vainly endeavoring to effect, in San Francisco. O’Neill was desirous of impersonating Jesus Christ, a part to which he considered himself peculiarly fitted, and he presently succeeded in persuading Maguire, the manager, to produce Morse’s drama. Baldwin was induced to provide financial support for the enterprise. Belasco was engaged as stage manager, after the preliminary rehearsals had been conducted under direction of Henry Brown, who officiated as prompter. Elaborate and handsome scenery was built and painted. Henry Widmer (1845-1895), in after years long associated with Daly’s Theatre in New York, was employed as leader of the orchestra, and illustrative incidental music for the play was composed by him. Belasco rehearsed the company and superintended the stage. The first representation occurred on March 3, 1879, at the Grand Opera House, and it caused much public interest and controversy. O’Neill’s impersonation of Jesus was fervently admired. Belasco, commenting on it and on its effect on “the poor people” whom he “saw on their knees, praying and sobbing,” wrote that the actor, “with his delicacy, refinement, and grandeur, typified the real Prophet, and, I believe, to himself he was the Prophet.”