LATER SAN FRANCISCO
In a brief chapter little can be offered that will tell the story of
half a century of life of a great city. No attempt will be made to trace
its progress or to recount its achievement. It is my purpose merely to
record events and occurrences that I remember, for whatever interest
they may have or whatever light they may throw on the life of the city
or on my experience in it.
For many years we greatly enjoyed the exhibits and promenade concerts of
the Mechanics' Institute Fairs. The large pavilion also served a useful
purpose in connection with various entertainments demanding capacity. In
1870 there was held a very successful musical festival; twelve hundred
singers participated and Camilla Urso was the violinist. The attendance
exceeded six thousand.
The Mercantile Library was in 1864 very strong and seemed destined to
eternal life, but it became burdened with debt and sought to extricate
itself by an outrageous expedient. The legislature passed an act
especially permitting a huge lottery, and for three days in 1870 the
town was given over to gambling, unabashed and unashamed. The result
seemed a triumph. Half a million dollars was realized, but it was a
violation of decency that sounded the knell of the institution, and it
was later absorbed by the plodding Mechanics' Institute, which had
always been most judiciously managed. Its investments in real estate
that it used have made it wealthy.
A gala day of 1870 was the spectacular removal of Blossom Rock. The
early-day navigation was imperiled by a small rock northwest of Angel
Island, covered at low tide by but five feet of water. It was called
Blossom, from having caused the loss of an English ship of that name.
The Government closed a bargain with Engineer Von Schmidt, who three
years before had excavated from the solid rock at Hunter's Point a dry
dock that had gained wide renown. Von Schmidt guaranteed twenty-four
feet of water at a cost of seventy-five thousand dollars, no payment to
be made unless he succeeded. He built a cofferdam, sunk a shaft, planted
twenty-three tons of powder in the tunnels he ran, and on May 25th,
after notice duly served, which sent the bulk of the population to
view-commanding hills, he pushed an electric button that fired the mine,
throwing water and debris one hundred and fifty feet in the air. Blossom
Rock was no more, deep water was secured, and Von Schmidt cashed his
check.
On my trip from Humboldt County to San Francisco in 1861 I made the
acquaintance of Andrew S. Hallidie, an English engineer who had
constructed a wire bridge over the Klamath River. In 1872 he came to my
printing office to order a prospectus announcing the formation of a
small company to construct a new type of street-car, to be propelled by
wire cable running in a conduit in the street and reached by a grip
through a slot. It was suggested by the suffering of horses striving to
haul cars up our steep hills and it utilized methods successfully used
in transporting ores from the mines. On August 2, 1873, the first
cable-car made a successful trial trip of seven blocks over Clay Street
hill, from Kearny to Leavenworth. Later it was extended four blocks to
the west. From this beginning the cable-roads spread over most of the
city and around the world. With the development of the electric trolley
they were largely displaced except on steep grades, where they still
perform an important function. Mr. Hallidie was a public-spirited
citizen and an influential regent of the University of California.
In 1874 there was forced upon the citizens of San Francisco the
necessity of taking steps to give better care and opportunity to the
neglected children of the community. A poorly conducted reform school
was encouraging crime instead of effecting reform. On every hand was
heard the question, "What shall we do with our boys?" Encouraged by the
reports of what had been accomplished in New York City by Charles L.
Brace, correspondence was entered into, and finally The Boys and Girls
Aid Society was organized. Difficulty was encountered in finding any one
willing to act as president of the organization, but George C. Hickox, a
well-known banker, was at last persuaded and became much interested in
the work. For some time it was a difficult problem to secure funds to
meet the modest expenses. A lecture by Charles Kingsley was a flat
failure. Much more successful was an entertainment at Platt's Hall at
which well-known citizens took part in an old-time spelling-match. In a
small building in Clementina Street we began with neighborhood boys, who
were at first wild and unruly. Senator George C. Perkins became
interested, and for more than forty years served as president. Through
him Senator Fair gave five thousand dollars and later the two valuable
fifty-vara lots at Grove and Baker streets, still occupied by the Home.
We issued a little paper, _Child and State_, in which we appealed for a
building, and a copy fell into the hands of Miss Helen McDowell,
daughter of the General. She sent it to Miss Hattie Crocker, who passed
it to her father, Charles Crocker, of railroad fame. He became
interested and wrote for particulars, and when the plans were submitted
he told us to go ahead and build, sending the bills to him. These two
substantial gifts made possible the working out of our plans, and the
results have been very encouraging. When the building was erected, on
the advice of the experts of the period, two lockups were installed, one
without light. Experience soon convinced us that they could be dispensed
with, and both were torn out. An honor system was substituted, to
manifest advantage, and failures to return when boys are permitted to
visit parents are negligible in number. The three months of summer
vacation are devoted to berry-picking, with satisfaction to growers and
to the boys, who last year earned eleven thousand dollars, of which
seven thousand dollars was paid to the boys who participated, in
proportion to the amount earned.
William C. Ralston was able, daring, and brilliant. In 1864 he organized
the Bank of California, which, through its Virginia City connection and
the keenness and audacity of William Sharon, practically monopolized the
big business of the Comstock, controlling mines, milling, and
transportation. In San Francisco it was _the_ bank, and its earnings
were huge. Ralston was public-spirited and enterprising. He backed all
kinds of schemes as well as many legitimate undertakings. He seemed the
great power of the Pacific Coast. But in 1875, when the silver output
dropped and the tide that had flowed in for a dozen years turned to ebb,
distrust was speedy. On the afternoon of August 26th, as I chanced to be
passing the bank, I saw with dismay the closing of its doors. The death
of Ralston, the discovery of wild investments, and the long train of
loss were intensely tragic. The final rehabilitation of the bank brought
assurance and rich reward to those who met their loss like men, but the
lesson was a hard one. In retrospect Ralston seems to typify that
extraordinary era of wild speculation and recklessness.
No glance at old San Francisco can be considered complete which does not
at least recognize Emperor Norton, a picturesque figure of its life. A
heavy, elderly man, probably Jewish, who paraded the streets in a dingy
uniform with conspicuous epaulets, a plumed hat, and a knobby cane.
Whether he was a pretender or imagined that he was an emperor no one
knew or seemed to care. He was good-natured, and he was humored.
Everybody bought his scrip in fifty cents denomination. I was his
favored printer, and he assured me that when he came into his estate he
would make me chancellor of the exchequer. He often attended the
services of the Unitarian church, and expressed his feeling that there
were too many churches and that when the empire was established he
should request all to accept the Unitarian church. He once asked me if I
could select from among the ladies of our church a suitable empress. I
told him I thought I might, but that he must be ready to provide for her
handsomely; that no man thought of keeping a bird until he had a cage,
and that a queen must have a palace. He was satisfied, and I never was
called upon.
The most memorable of the Fourth of July celebrations was in 1876, when
the hundredth anniversary called for something special. The best to be
had was prepared for the occasion. The procession was elaborate and
impressive. Dr. Stebbins delivered a fine oration; there was a poem, of
course; but the especial feature was a military and naval spectacle,
elaborate in character.
The fortifications around the harbor and the ships available were
scheduled to unite in an attack on a supposed enemy ship attempting to
enter the harbor. The part of the invading cruiser was taken by a large
scow anchored between Sausalito and Fort Point. At an advertised hour
the bombardment was to begin, and practically the whole population of
the city sought the high hills commanding the view. The hills above the
Presidio were then bare of habitations, but on that day they were black
with eager spectators. When the hour arrived the bombardment began. The
air was full of smoke and the noise was terrific, but alas for
marksmanship, the willing and waiting cruiser rode serenely unharmed and
unhittable. The afternoon wore away and still no chance shot went home.
Finally a Whitehall boat sneaked out and set the enemy ship on fire,
that her continued security might no longer oppress us. It was a most
impressive exhibit of unpreparedness, and gave us much to think of.
On the evening of the same day, Father Neri, at St. Ignatius College,
displayed electric lighting for the first time in San Francisco, using
three French arc lights.
The most significant event of the second decade was the rise and decline
of the Workingmen's Party, following the remarkable episode of the Sand
Lot and Denis Kearney. The winter of 1876-77 had been one of slight
rainfall, there had been a general failure of crops, the yield of gold
and silver had been small, and there was much unemployment. There had
been riots in the East and discontent and much resentment were rife. The
line of least resistance seemed to be the clothes-line. The Chinese,
though in no wise responsible, were attacked. Laundries were destroyed,
but rioting brought speedy organization. A committee of safety, six
thousand strong, took the situation in hand. The state and the national
governments moved resolutely, and order was very soon restored. Kearney
was clever and knew when to stop. He used his qualities of leadership
for his individual advantage and eventually became sleek and prosperous.
In the meantime he was influential in forming a political movement that
played a prominent part in giving us a new constitution. The ultra
conservatives were frightened, but the new instrument did not prove so
harmful as was feared. It had many good features and lent itself
readily to judicial construction.
While we now treat the episode lightly, it was at the time a serious
matter. It was Jack Cade in real life, and threatened existing society
much as the Bolshevists do in Russia. The significant feature of the
experience was that there was a measure of justification for the
protest. Vast fortunes had been suddenly amassed and luxury and
extravagance presented a damaging contrast to the poverty and suffering
of the many. Heartlessness and indifference are the primary danger. The
result of the revolt was on the whole good. The warning was needed, and,
on the other hand, the protestants learned that real reforms are not
brought about by violence or even the summary change of organic law.
In 1877 I had the good fortune to join the Chit-Chat Club, which had
been formed three years before on very simple lines. A few high-minded
young lawyers interested in serious matters, but alive to
good-fellowship, dined together once a month and discussed an essay that
one of them had written. The essayist of one meeting presided at the
next. A secretary-treasurer was the only officer. Originally the papers
alternated between literature and political economy, but as time went on
all restrictions were removed, although by usage politics and religion
are shunned. The membership has always been of high character and
remarkable interest has been maintained. I have esteemed it a great
privilege to be associated with so fine a body of kindly, cultivated
men, and educationally it has been of great advantage. I have missed few
meetings in the forty-four years, and the friendships formed have been
many and close. We formerly celebrated our annual meetings and invited
men of note. Our guests included Generals Howard, Gibbons, and Miles,
the LeContes, Edward Rowland Sill, and Luther Burbank. We enjoyed
meeting celebrities, but our regular meetings, with no formality, proved
on the whole more to our taste and celebrations were given up. When I
think of the delight and benefit that I have derived from this
association of clubbable men I feel moved to urge that similar groups be
developed wherever even a very few will make the attempt.
In 1879 I joined many of my friends and acquaintances in a remarkable
entertainment on a large scale. It was held in the Mechanics' Pavilion
and continued for many successive nights. It was called the "Carnival of
Authors." The immense floor was divided into a series of booths,
occupied by representative characters of all the noted authors,
Shakespeare, Chaucer, Dickens, Irving, Scott, and many others. A grand
march every evening introduced the performances or receptions given at
the various booths, and was very colorful and amusing. My character was
the fortune-teller in the Alhambra, and my experiences were interesting
and impressive. My disguise was complete, and in my zodiacal quarters I
had much fun in telling fortunes for many people I knew quite well, and
I could make revelations that seemed to them very wonderful. In the
grand march I could indulge in the most unmannered swagger. My own
sister asked in indignation: "Who is that old man making eyes at me?" I
held many charming hands as I pretended to study the lines. One evening
Charles Crocker, as he strolled past, inquired if I would like any help.
I assured him that beauty were safer in the hands of age. A young woman
whom I saw weekly at church came with her cousin, a well-known banker. I
told her fortune quite to her satisfaction, and then informed her that
the gentleman with her was a relative, but not a brother. "How
wonderful!" she exclaimed. A very well-known Irish stock operator came
with his daughter, whose fortune I made rosy. She persuaded her father
to sit. Nearly every morning I had met him as he rode a neat pony along
a street running to North Beach, where he took a swim. I told him that
the lines of his hand indicated water, that he had been born across the
water. "Yes," he murmured, "in France." I told him he had been
successful. "Moderately so," he admitted. I said, "Some people think it
has been merely good luck, but you have contributed to good fortune. You
are a man of very regular habits. Among your habits is that of bathing
every morning in the waters of the bay." "Oh, God!" he ejaculated, "he
knows me!"
Some experiences were not so humorous. A very hard-handed, poorly
dressed but patently upright man took it very seriously. I told him he
had had a pretty hard life, but that no man could look him in the face
and say that he had been wronged by him. He said that was so, but he
wanted to ask my advice as to what to do when persecuted because he
could not do more than was possible to pay an old debt for which he was
not to blame. I comforted him all I could, and told him he should not
allow himself to be imposed upon. When he left he asked for my address
down town. He wanted to see me again. The depth of suffering and the
credulity revealed were often embarrassing and made me feel a fraud when
I was aiming merely to amuse. I was glad again to become my undisguised
self.
It was in the late eighties that Julia Ward Howe visited her sister near
the city, and I very gladly was of service in helping her fill some of
her engagements. She gave much pleasure by lectures and talks and
enjoyed visiting some of our attractions. She was charmed with the
Broadway Grammar School, where Jean Parker had achieved such wonderful
results with the foreign girls of the North Beach locality. I remember
meeting a distinguished educator at a dinner, and I asked him if he had
seen the school. He said he had. "What do you think of it?" I asked him.
"I think it is the finest school in the world," he said. I took Mrs.
Howe to a class. She was asked to say a few words, and in her beautiful
voice she gained instant and warm attention. She asked all the little
girls who spoke French in their homes to stand. Many rose. Then she
called for Spanish. Many more stood. She followed with Scandinavian and
Italian. But when she came to those who used English she found few. She
spoke to several in their own tongue and was most enthusiastically
greeted. I also escorted her across the bay to Mills College, with which
she was greatly pleased. She proved herself a good sport. With true
Bohemianism, she joined in luncheon on the ferryboat, eating ripe
strawberries from the original package, using her fingers and enjoying
the informality. She fitted every occasion with dignity or humor. In the
pulpit at our church she preached a remarkably fine sermon.
Mozoomdar, the saintly representative of the Brahmo Somaj, was a highly
attractive man. His voice was most musical, and his bearing and manner
were beautiful. He seemed pure spirit and a type of the deeply religious
nature. Nor was he without humor. In speaking of his visit to England he
said that his hosts generally seemed to think that for food he required
only "an unlimited quantity of milk."
Politics has had a wide range in San Francisco,--rotten at times, petty
at others, with the saving grace of occasional idealism. The
consolidation act and the People's Party touched high-water mark in
reform. With the lopping off of the San Mateo end of the peninsula in
1856, one board of supervisors was substituted for the three that had
spent $2,646,000 the year before. With E.W. Burr at its head, under the
new board expenditures were reduced to $353,000. The People's Party had
a long lease of power, but in 1876 McCoppin was elected mayor. Later
came the reigns of little bosses, the specter of the big corporation
boss behind them all, and then the triumph of decency under McNab, when
good men served as supervisors. Then came the sinister triumph of Ruef
and the days of graft, cut short by the amazing exposure, detection, and
overthrow of entrenched wickedness, and the administration of Dr.
Taylor, a high idealist, too good to last.
Early in 1904 twenty-five gentlemen (five of whom were members of the
Chit-Chat Club) formed an association for the improvement and adornment
of San Francisco. D.H. Burnham was invited to prepare a plan, and a
bungalow was erected on a spur of Twin Peaks from which to study the
problem. A year or more was given to the task, and in September, 1905, a
comprehensive report was made and officially sanctioned, by vote and
publication. To what extent it might have been followed but for the
event of April, 1906, cannot be conjectured, but it is matter of deep
regret that so little resulted from this very valuable study of a
problem upon which the future of the city so vitally depends. It is not
too late to follow its principal features, subject to such modifications
as are necessary in the light of a good deal that we have accomplished
since the report. San Francisco's possibilities for beauty are very
great.
The earthquake and fire of April, 1906, many San Franciscans would
gladly forget; but as they faced the fact, so they need not shrink from
the memory. It was a never to be effaced experience of man's littleness
and helplessness, leaving a changed consciousness and a new attitude.
Being aroused from deep sleep to find the solid earth wrenched and
shaken beneath you, structures displaced, chimneys shorn from their
bases, water shut off, railway tracks distorted, and new shocks
recurring, induces terror that no imagination can compass. After
breakfasting on an egg cooked by the heat from an alcohol lamp, I went
to rescue the little I could from my office, and saw the resistless
approaching fire shortly consume it. Lack of provisions and scarcity of
water drove me the next morning across the bay. Two days afterward,
leaving my motherless children, I returned to bear a hand in relief and
restoration. Every person going up Market Street stopped to throw a few
bricks from the street to make possible a way for vehicles. For miles
desolation reigned. In the unburned districts bread-lines marked the
absolute leveling. Bankers and beggars were one. Very soon the mighty
tide of relief set in, beginning with the near-by counties and extending
to the ends of the earth.
Among our interesting experiences at Red Cross headquarters was the
initiation of Dr. Devine into the habits of the earthquake. He had come
from New York to our assistance. We were in session and J.S. Merrill was
speaking. There came a decidedly sharp shake. An incipient "Oh!" from
one of the ladies was smothered. Mr. Merrill kept steadily on. When he
had concluded and the shock was over he turned to Dr. Devine and
remarked: "Doctor, you look a little pale. I thought a moment ago you
were thinking of going out." Dr. Devine wanly smiled as he replied: "You
must excuse me. Remember that this is my first experience."
I think I never saw a little thing give so much pleasure as when a man
who had been given an old coat that was sent from Mendocino County found
in a pocket a quarter of a dollar that some sympathetic philanthropist
had slipped in as a surprise. It seemed a fortune to one who had
nothing. Perhaps a penniless mother who came in with her little girl was
equally pleased when she found that some kind woman had sent in a doll
that her girl could have. One of our best citizens, Frederick Dohrmann,
was in Germany, his native land, at the time. He had taken his wife in
pursuit of rest and health. They had received kindly entertainment from
many friends, and decided to make some return by a California reception,
at the town hostelry. They ordered a generous dinner. They thought of
the usual wealth of flowers at a California party, and visiting a
florist's display they bought his entire stock. The invited guests came
in large numbers, and the host and hostess made every effort to
emphasize their hospitality. But after they had gone Mr. Dohrmann
remarked to his wife: "I somehow feel that the party has not been a
success. The people did not seem to enjoy themselves as I thought they
would." The next morning as they sought the breakfast-room they were
asked if they had seen the morning papers. Ordering them they found
staring head-lines: "San Francisco destroyed by an earthquake!" Their
guests had seen the billboards on their way to the party, but could not
utterly spoil the evening by mentioning it, yet were incapable of
merriment. Mr. Dohrmann and his wife returned at once, and though far
from well, he threw himself into the work of restoration, in which no
one was more helpful. The dreadful event, however, revealed much good in
human nature. Helpfulness in the presence of such devastation and
suffering might be expected, but honor and integrity after the sharp
call of sympathy was over have a deeper meaning. One of my best
customers, the Bancroft-Whitney Company, law publishers, having accounts
with lawyers and law-booksellers all over the country, lost not only all
their stock and plates but all their books of accounts, and were left
without any evidence of what was owing them. They knew that exclusive of
accounts considered doubtful there was due them by customers other than
those in San Francisco $175,000. Their only means of ascertaining the
particulars was through those who owed it. They decided to make it
wholly a matter of honor, and sent to the thirty-five thousand lawyers
in the United States the following printed circular, which I printed at
a hastily assembled temporary printing office across the bay:
_To Our Friends and Patrons_:
_a_--We have lost all our records of accounts.
_b_--Our net loss will exceed $400,000.
SIMPLY A QUESTION OF HONOR.
_First_--Will each lawyer in the country send us a statement of
what he owes us, whether due or not due, and names of books covered
by said statement on enclosed blank (blue blank).
_Second_--Information for our records (yellow blank).
_Third_--Send us a postal money order for all the money you can now
spare.
PLEASE FILL OUT AND SEND US AS SOON AS POSSIBLE THE FORMS ENCLOSED.
May 15, 1906.
Returns of money and of acknowledgment were prompt and encouraging. Some
of those considered doubtful were the first to acknowledge their
indebtedness. Before long they were able to reproduce their books and
the acknowledged balances nearly equaled their estimated total of good
accounts. Remittances were made until over $170,000 was paid. Of this
amount about $25,000 covered accounts not included in their estimate of
collectible indebtedness. This brought their estimated total to
$200,000, and established the fact that over eighty-five per cent of all
that was owed them was acknowledged promptly under this call on honor.
Four years later they were surprised by the receipt of a check for $250
from a lawyer in Florida for a bill incurred long before, of which they
had no memory. Let those who scoff at ideals and bemoan the dishonesty
of this materialistic age take note that money is not all, and let those
who grudgingly admit that there are a few honest men but no honest
lawyers take notice that even lawyers have some sense of honor.
Some few instances of escape are interesting. I have a friend who was
living on the Taylor Street side of Russian Hill. When the quake came,
his daughter, who had lived in Japan and learned wise measures,
immediately filled the bathtub with water. A doomed grocery-store near
by asked customers to help themselves to goods. My friend chose a dozen
large siphon bottles of soda water. The house was detached and for a
time escaped, but finally the roof caught from flying embers and the
fire was slowly extending. When the time came to leave the house a
large American flag was raised to a conspicuous staff. A company of
soldiers sent from the Presidio for general duty saw the flag several
blocks away, and made for the house to save the colors. Finding the
bathroom water supply, they mixed it with sand and plastered the burning
spots. They arrested the spreading flames, but could not reach the fire
under the cornice. Then they utilized the siphon bottles; one soldier,
held by his legs, hung over the roof and squirted the small stream on
the crucial spot. The danger was soon over and the house was saved with
quite a group of others that would have burned with it.
While many individuals never recovered their property conditions or
their nerve, it is certain that a new spirit was generated. Great
obstacles were overcome and determination was invincible. We were forced
to act broadly, and we reversed the negative policy of doing nothing and
owing nothing. We went into debt with our eyes open, and spent millions
in money for the public good. The city was made safe and also beautiful.
The City Hall, the Public Library, and the Auditorium make our Civic
Center a source of pride. The really great exposition of 1915 was
carried out in a way to increase our courage and our capacity. We have
developed a fine public spirit and efficient co-operation. We need fear
nothing in the future. We have character and we are gaining in
capacity.
Vocation and avocation have about equally divided my time and energy
during my residence in San Francisco. I have done some things because I
was obliged to and many others because I wished to. When one is fitted
and trained for some one thing he is apt to devote himself steadily and
profitably to it, but when he is an amateur and not a master he is sure
to be handicapped. After about a year in the Indian department a change
in administration left me without a job. For about a year I was a
bookkeeper for a stock-broker. Then for another year I was a
money-broker, selling currency, silver, and revenue stamps. When that
petered out I was ready for anything. A friend had loaned money to a
printer and seemed about to lose it. In 1867 I became bookkeeper and
assistant in this printing office to rescue the loan, and finally
succeeded. I liked the business and had the hardihood to buy a small
interest, borrowing the necessary money from a bank at one per cent a
month. I knew absolutely nothing of the art and little of business. It
meant years of wrestling for the weekly pay-roll, often in apprehension
of the sheriff, but for better or for worse I stuck to it and gradually
established a good business. I found satisfaction in production and had
many pleasant experiences. In illustration I reproduce an order I
received in 1884 from Fred Beecher Perkins, librarian of the recently
established free public library. (He was father of Charlotte Perkins
Stetson.)
SAN FRANCISCO FREE PUBLIC LIBRARY
[Handwritten: Dec 19 1884
C.A. Murdock & Co Gent.
We need two hundred (200) more of those blue chex. Please make and
deliver same PDQ and oblige
Yours truly
F.B. Perkins
Librarian.
P.S. The _substance_ of this order is official. The _form_ is slightly
speckled with the spice of unofficiality.
F.B.P.]
[Illustration: THE CLAY STREET OFFICE THE DAY AFTER]
In 1892, as president of the San Francisco Typothetae, I had the great
pleasure of cooperating with the president of the Typographical Union in
giving a reception and dinner to George W. Childs, of Philadelphia. Our
relations were not always so friendly. We once resisted arbitrary
methods and a strike followed. My men went out regretfully, shaking
hands as they left. We won the strike, and then by gradual voluntary
action gave them the pay and hours they asked for. When the earthquake
fire of 1906 came I was unfortunately situated. I had lately bought out
my partner and owed much money. To meet all my obligations I felt
obliged to sell a controlling interest in the business, and that was the
beginning of the end. I was in active connection with the printing
business for forty-seven years.
I am forced to admit that it would have been much to my advantage had I
learned in my early life to say "No" at the proper time. The loss in
scattering one's powers is too great to contemplate with comfort. I had
a witty partner who once remarked, "I have great respect for James
Bunnell, for he has but one hobby at a time." I knew the inference. A
man who has too many hobbies is not respectable. He is not even fair to
the hobbies. I have always been overloaded and so not efficient. It is
also my habit to hold on. It seems almost impossible to drop what I have
taken up, and while there is gain in some ways through standing by
there is gross danger in not resolutely stopping when you have enough.
In addition to the activities I have incidentally mentioned I have
served twenty-five years on the board of the Associated Charities, and
still am treasurer. I have been a trustee of the California School of
Mechanical Arts for at least as long. I have served for years on the
board of the Babies Aid, and also represent the Protestant Charities on
the Home-Finding Agency of the Native Sons and Daughters. It is an
almost shameful admission of dissipation. No man of good discretion
spreads himself too thin.
When I was relieved from further public service, and had disposed of the
printing business, it was a great satisfaction to accept the field
secretaryship of the American Unitarian Association for the Pacific
Coast. I enjoyed the travel and made many delightful acquaintances. It
was an especial pleasure to accompany such a missionary as Dr. William
L. Sullivan. In 1916 we visited most of the churches on the coast, and
it was a constant pleasure to hear him and to see the gladness with
which he was always received, and the fine spirit he inspired. I have
also found congenial occupation in keeping alive _The Pacific
Unitarian_. Thirty years is almost venerable in the life of a religious
journal. I have been favored with excellent health and with unnumbered
blessings of many kinds. I rejoice at the goodness and kindness of my
fellow men. My experience justifies my trustful and hopeful
temperament. I believe "the best is yet to be."
I am thankful that my lot has been cast in this fair city. I love it and
I have faith in its future. There have been times of trial and of fear,
but time has told in favor of courage not to be lost and deep confidence
in final good. It cannot be doubted that the splendid achievement of the
Panama-Pacific Exposition gave strong faith in power to withstand
adverse influences and temporary weakness. When we can look back upon
great things we have accomplished we gain confidence in ability to reach
any end that we are determined upon. It is manifest that a new spirit,
an access of faith, has come to San Francisco since she astonished the
world and surprised herself by creating the magnificent dream on the
shores of the bay.
At its conclusion a few of us determined it should not be utterly lost.
We formed an Exposition Preservation League through which we salvaged
the Palace of Fine Arts, the most beautiful building of the last five
centuries, the incomparable Marina, a connected driveway from Black
Point to the Presidio, the Lagoon, and other features that will
ultimately revert to the city, greatly adding to its attractiveness.
Fifty years of municipal life have seen great advance and promise a rich
future. Materially they have been as prosperous as well-being demands or
as is humanly safe--years of healthy growth, free of fever and delirium,
in which natural resources have been steadily developed and we have
somewhat leisurely prepared for world business on a large scale. In
population we have increased from about 150,000 to about 550,000, which
is an average advance from decade to decade of thirty-three per cent.
Bank clearances are considered the best test of business. Our clearing
house was established in 1876, and the first year the total clearances
were $520,000. We passed the million mark in 1900, and in 1920 they
reached $8,122,000,000. In 1870 our combined exports and imports were
about $13,000,000. In 1920 they were $486,000,000, giving California
fourth rank in the national record.
The remarkable feature in all our records is the great acceleration in
the increase in the years since the disaster of 1906. Savings bank
receipts in 1920 are twice as large as in 1906, postal receipts three
times as large, national bank resources four times as large, national
bank deposits nine times as large.
There can be no reasonable doubt that San Francisco is to be a very
important industrial and commercial city. Every indication leads to this
conclusion. The more important consideration of character and spirit
cannot be forecast by statistics, but much that has been accomplished
and the changed attitude on social welfare and the humanities leave no
doubt on the part of the discerning that we have made great strides and
that the future is full of promise.