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Mr. Craven’s Lighted First Night 77
ter. We had to build new stuff for New York anyhow, and it was cheaper to leave the old stuff where it was.” “You are a frugal author!”
“ ‘Too Many Cooks’ made money on its try-out,” he answered, not unproudly; “‘The First Year’ went into New York with money to the good, and so did ‘Spite Corner.’ Well,” he went on shrewdly, “an author shouldn’t demand much till he finds out what he’s written. All plays look great when they’re fresh from the typist. But I’ve always been willing to take any old junk to find out if people like the play. As Johnny Golden says, ‘You can always get scenery!’ ”
“Frank,” I said, “it would be hard to tell from your plays whether you are a sentimentalist or a — No, I can’t say showman; there’s too much human humor in ‘The First Year.’ ”
“I think people love to cry in the theater ; I know I do,” he answered without shame. “I cry when I see a beautifully acted comedy scene — that’s the way it gets me. It’s the interweave of sentiment and comedy that I like, the alternating currents. You can safely say that I’m for sentiment on the stage. Sentiment is not only good business, but we need it in our lives. Do you remember, Ashton, when we used to go to the ball games together?”
“Five times a week, some weeks. Sure!”
And Frank Craven talked and took me back to some of those ball games and some of the men that went along with us — one of them dead now, two of them married. He recalled the day he bought the peanuts and I the cushions, because, he said, my own upholstery was none of the best ; and the day they played fourteen innings to make a score of one to nothing, and we matched for the taxi home. He just talked and brought