He took much pleasure in a dinner club that he helped to form.  The members were University professors, lawyers, newspaper men, and a few business men.  “But,” says one of them, “in spirit they were poets, philosophers and prophets.  They were aware that their solutions of problems vexing to the brains of other men, would be Utopian, but as they were not willing to be classed with ordinary Utopians they named their club Amaurot, after the capital of Utopia, thus signifying that while they dwelt in Utopia, they were not subject to it but were lords of it—­the teachers of its wisdom and the makers of its laws.”

His home life absorbed much of his leisure.  He and his family had moved into a modest house on Gough Street, in San Francisco, with a view of the bay, Alcatraz Island, and the Marin Hills from the upstairs living-room window—­for no house was a home to Lane that had no view—­and in the back-yard, among its red geraniums and cosmos bushes, he played Treasure Island and Wild West with his boy.

In the summer of 1902, Lane was nominated as the Democratic and Non-Partisan candidate for Governor of California.  At the Democratic Convention at Sacramento, an onlooker described the excitement among the delegates before a selection was made, “Throughout the night until late afternoon of the second day, without any clear solution of the problem, came the roll-call of the counties, then a wild stampede for the young City and County Attorney of San Francisco, who was borne to the platform. ...

“It was Franklin K. Lane who stood a goodly and confident figure, waving a palm-leaf fan for quiet.  He said:—­

“’I was in the rear of the hall when Governor Budd made his speech and voiced the call of the party for a winner, and, in response to his call, I have taken this platform.’”

This note of joyous truculence, with the little out-thrust of the underlip, brought, as so often before and since, laughter and applause.

A hot and spirited campaign followed.  California is naturally Republican, and Lane had many times challenged and attacked the great powers of the State.  He made as his chief issues, Irrigation, Prison Reform, and a fairer share in the world’s goods for all the people.  He traveled far and fast, often speaking six times in a day, at different places, and sometimes riding a hundred and fifty miles in twenty-four hours, over the rough roads of remote counties.

While campaigning he outlined his notion of public service in this way, “No man should have a political office because he wants a job.  A public office is not a job, it is an opportunity to do something for the public.  Once in office it remains for him to prove that the opportunity was not wasted. ...”  And again he said,—­“There is nothing that touches me so, in the little that I have seen in political life, as this, that while it is a game in which men can be mean, contemptible and dastardly, it is a game also that brings out the finer, better, and nobler qualities.  I know why some men are in politics to their own financial loss.  Because they find it is a great big man’s game, which calls for men to fight it, and they want to stand beside their fellows and do battle.”