Frank journeyed East with a party of “Exposition Boosters” after the memorable meeting in the Merchants’ Exchange.  The import of that afternoon’s work had been flashed around the world.  It swung the tide of public sentiment from New Orleans toward the Western Coast.  Congress heard the clink of Power in those millions.  President Taft discerned a spirit of efficiency that would guarantee success.  He did not desire another Jamestown fiasco.  He had an open admiration for the city which in four years could rebuild itself from ashes, suffer staunchly through disrupting ordeals of political upheaval and unite its forces in a mighty plan to entertain the World.

Frank went to the White House for an interview.  He clasped the large, firm hand which had guided so many troubled ships of state for the Roosevelt regime, looked into the twinkling eyes that hid so keen a force behind their kindness.  Stanley soon discovered that in this big, bluff President his city had a friend.

“What shall I say to the people at home for you, Mr. President?  Will you give me a message?”

The Chief Executive was thoughtful for an instant.  Then he said, “Go back, my boy, and tell them this from me, ‘SAN FRANCISCO KNOWS HOW!’”

Frank left the White House, eager and enthusiastic; sought a telegraph office.  On the following day Market street blazed with the slogan.

In New York, where he went from Washington, Frank heard echoes of that speech.  San Francisco’s cause gained new and sudden favor.  Frank found the Eastern press, which hitherto had favored New Orleans, was veering almost imperceptibly toward the Golden Gate.

He met many San Franciscans in New York.  John O’Hara Cosgrave was editing Everybody’s Magazine, “Bob” Davis was at the head of the Munsey publications, Edwin Markham wrote world-poetry on Staten Island, “in a big house filled with books and mosquitoes,” as a friend described it.  “Bill” and Wallace Irwin were there, the former “batching” in a flat on Washington Square.  All of them were glad to talk of San Francisco.

Charley Aiken, editor of Sunset Magazine, was with the boosters.  Stanley met him in New York.  He had a plan for buying the publication from its railroad sponsors; making it an independent organ of the literary West.  Things were looking up for San Francisco.

* * * * *

Frank was glad to get back.  He had enjoyed his visit to the East.  But it was mighty good to ride up Market street again.  It looked quite as it did before the fire.  One would have found it difficult to believe that this new city with its towering, handsome architecture, had lain, a few years back, the shambles of the greatest conflagration history has known.

On Christmas eve Frank and Aleta went down town to hear Tetrazzini sing in the streets.  The famous prima donna faced an audience which numbered upward of a hundred thousand.  They thronged—­a joyous celebrant, dark mass—­on Market, Geary, Third and Kearny streets.  Every window was ablaze, alive with silhouetted figures.  Frank, who had engaged a window in the Monadnock Block, could not get near the entrance.  So he and Aleta stood in the street.