A great event was impending. Almost within stone's-throw of the little cigar-store where he sold stogies to Tony Pastor was the Old New York Theater, which, after the fashion of that time, had undergone the evolution of many names, beginning with the Athenaeum, and continuing until it had come under the control of the three famous Worrell sisters, who tacked their name to it. Shortly after the New Year of 1869 they produced the extravaganza "The Field of the Cloth of Gold," in which two of them, Sophie and Jane, together with Pauline Markham, one of the classic beauties of the time, appeared. Charles had witnessed part of this extravaganza one afternoon. It kindled his memories of "The Black Crook," for it was full of sparkle and color. Charles and Gustave had made the acquaintance of Owen, the doorkeeper. One afternoon they walked over to the theater and stood in the lobby listening to a rehearsal. Owen, who knew the boys' intense love of the theater, spoke up, saying: "We need an extra page to-night. How would you like to go on?" Both youngsters stood expectant. They loved each other dearly, yet here was one moment where self-interest must prevail. Charles fixed the doorkeeper with his hypnotic smile, and he was chosen. Almost without hearing the injunction to report at seven o'clock, Charles ran back to the store, well-nigh breathless with expectancy over the coming event. With that family feeling which has marked the Frohmans throughout their whole life, Gustave hurried down-town to notify their eldest brother to be on hand for the grand occasion. Charles ate no supper, and was at the stage-door long before seven. Rigged up in a faded costume, he carried a banner during the performance. His two elder brothers sat in the gallery. All they saw in the entire brilliant spectacle was the little Charles and his faded flag. Charles got twenty-five cents for his evening's work, and brought it home bubbling with pride. To his great consternation he received a rebuke from his mother and the strong injunction never to appear on the stage again. This was Charles Frohman's first and only appearance on any stage. In the years to come, although he controlled and directed hundreds of productions, gave employment to thousands of actors in this country, England, and France, and ruled the destinies of scores of theaters, he never appeared in a single performance. Nor had he a desire to appear. * * *