Belasco, though his disagreements with Charles Frohman were, for the time, amicably adjusted, was not acquiescent to remain in a position which, continuously maintained, would have kept him still a carrier of bricks to the theatrical buildings of other men. He was now forty years old. For more than twenty years his lot had been chiefly toil and hardship: experience had taught him that “living is striving”: abundant opportunity had been provided for him to learn the truth so tersely stated by Wendell Phillips that the world is made up of two kinds of persons,—those who do things, and those who stand by to tell others how things should be done. Though not embittered, he was in danger of becoming so, and he felt more than ever resolved to make a place for himself in the managerial field, if he could not find one. “I, too,” he has said, “as well as Charles Frohman, had my dreams of a theatre of my own,—a place where I could do things in my own way,—and I meant to have it!”

Finding it impossible to obtain support such as he desired and a satisfactory opening in New York (notwithstanding Charles Frohman’s offer to furnish theatres for presentation of “The Heart of Maryland”), Belasco now determined to try R. M. Hooley, of Chicago, who had manifested interest and confidence in him, during the engagement in that city of “The Ugly Duckling”; who, perhaps, remembered his early mistake in refusing “Hearts of Oak,” and who certainly, like all other theatrical workers of the time, had been favorably impressed by the success of “The Girl I Left Behind Me.” Belasco at first wrote to Hooley about Mrs. Carter, but, later, he visited Chicago, for the purpose of stating his project in detail. There he found that Mr. “Harry” Powers, Hooley’s agent and business manager of his theatre, was strongly opposed to the idea of bringing out Mrs. Carter in that city. Powers frankly said: “I have advised Mr. Hooley to have nothing whatever to do with your venture. This is the most fashionable theatre in Chicago: Mrs. Carter is not wanted here, and we cannot afford to make enemies.” Hooley, however, was in a more propitious mood, and expressed himself willing to rely on Belasco’s judgment, if he really believed that in Mrs. Carter he had a fine actress and also that he had a suitable new play in which to present her. Belasco fervently extolled the ability of Mrs. Carter, and read to him “The Heart of Maryland.” Hooley was favorably impressed and agreed to produce the play, presenting Mrs. Carter in the central part, provided that Belasco would agree to give him an option on all plays which he might thereafter write. The influences which, later, crystallized in the Theatrical Syndicate, were already beginning to make themselves felt in the theatrical world, and Hooley, like many other managers, perceived a danger and was wary of it. “I purpose to produce my own ’attractions,’” he informed Belasco, “and let the Eastern producers go hang!”

Hooley offered fair terms, the agreement for the presentment of Mrs. Carter as a “star” in “The Heart of Maryland” was formally made, and thus cheered and encouraged Belasco returned to New York, to prepare his play for production and engage a company to act in it. “As I was leaving,” he said, “Hooley delighted me by asking me to send him a large framed portrait of Mrs. Carter, to hang in the lobby of his theatre.” In New York Belasco read his play to Maurice Barrymore (1848-1905) and E. J. Henley (1862-1898) and engaged them for the company, and he was engaging other members thereof when Hooley suddenly died,—September 10, 1893. Mr. Powers was placed in charge of the theatre which had been Hooley’s, and, as he promptly notified Belasco, made a long-term contract with Messrs. Klaw & Erlanger to furnish him with “attractions” for that house, and repudiated the engagement which Hooley had made: “I was politely kicked out,” said Belasco, “and that was the end of that! It was too late in the year to make new arrangements for that season about ’Maryland,’ and, besides, I didn’t know exactly what to do or which way to turn. If ’The Younger Son,’—which came next and on which I worked hard,—had proved successful, things might have turned out differently; but that fizzled, and afterward I seemed to be just as far as ever from being able to strike out for myself.”