water,--and asked for the Dedication, which I had typewritten. He sat up in bed and revised it, as it now stands, and then added the four lines of verse. Although he had been suffering horribly for days he made but one mistake in writing the Dedication: he wrote “use_less_” instead of “use_ful_“--and was much vexed with himself for doing so. In the last line of the verse he first wrote “boy”; in the evening he changed that word to “son.”_ _Among the manuscript notes left by my father I have found the beginning of a_ PREFACE _to this book, which I think it desirable to print here because it gives in his words some intimation of his purpose and feeling in undertaking the writing of it_: * * * * * David Belasco is the leading theatrical manager in the United States; the manager from whom it is reasonable to expect that the most of achievement can proceed that will be advantageous to the Stage, as an institution, and to the welfare of the Public to which that institution is essential and precious. I have long believed that a truthful, comprehensive, minute narrative of his career,--which has been one of much vicissitude and interest,--ought to be written now, while he is still living and working, when perhaps it may augment his prosperity, cheer his mind, and stimulate his ambition to undertake new tasks and gain new honors. In that belief I have written this book, not as a panegyric, but as a Memoir. [Illustration: IN MEMORIAM “_Earthly Fame_ _Is fortune’s frail dependent; yet there lives_ _A Judge, who, as man claims by merit, gives:_ _To whose all-pondering mind a noble aim,_ _Faithfully kept, is as a noble deed;_ _In whose pure sight all virtue doth succeed._” --Wordsworth photograph by I. Almstaedt, Staten Island. son of Jefferson Winter.] [Illustration: William Winter] _David Belasco and William Winter were friends for thirty-odd years. They did not always agree as to the course which should be followed in theatrical management; but their disagreements on that subject, such as they were, never estranged them nor lessened their mutual sympathetic understanding, respect, and regard. Belasco, undoubtedly, is what my father called him, “the last of the real managers,” the heir of all the theatric ages in America that have been led by Dunlap, Caldwell, Gilfert, Wood, the Wallacks, Booth, McCullough, Ford, Palmer, and Daly, and it is fitting that his_ LIFE _should have been written by the one man in all the world best qualified to perform the task. Belasco’s feeling about the matter, at once modest and appreciative, is shown in a letter from which I quote the following_: (David Belasco to William Winter.) October 18, 1916. MY DEAR WILLIAM WINTER:--