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The Log of the Empire Stateby Geneve L. A. Shaffer
Dedicated to My Mother and Your Mother
To My Mother
Your little hands are folded,
Your tired breast is still.
But your valiant heart beats on and on,
And so forever will.
In the lives of those who knew you,
Each gentle beat will bring
An echo sweet and tender,
To linger there and sing.
By C. T. S.
The Log of the Empire State
Introduction
As Miss Shaffer was appointed the special representative of the SanFrancisco Examiner on the San Francisco Chamber of Commerce, CommercialRelationship Tour of the Orient, as well as being a member of the SanFrancisco Chamber of Commerce, she was requested to write this littlebook covering the three months' trip, and she wishes to thank all themembers of the party for their kindly interest and cooperation inhelping her secure much of the information contained herein.
Before we had reached the Golden Gate we acted like some great happyfamily, eager to enjoy every minute. After we stopped waving our tiredarms to the crowds of friends on the docks and the last bouquet aimed atthe Mayor's tug had landed in the bay, small groups, with radiant faces,discussed what do you suppose? No, not the crossing of the Bar, but theopening of the ship's bar. As you know, Uncle Sam seems to consider thedry law impossible on the water.
We were all saying that San Francisco's farewell made us proud to belongto such a city, when M. A. Gale told us that he wanted to add a word ofpraise for one of San Francisco's traffic officers, who let him by whenhe made a speedy trip for some valuables left behind, which had justbeen missed at the last moment. But, do you remember who was the lastpassenger? She was nervous and fidgety ever since she came on board,too. None other than Bulah, the handsome mare bound for Yokohama. It wasworth going through the steerage to watch her enjoy one of our "eleveno'clock" apples.
When the lunch gong sounded, we all went below (doesn't that sound realnautical?) to try and get settled in our home for the next three months.Apparently there was no place left for even our hats, thoughtful gifts,fruits, candy and flowers, filled every inch of ordinary space.Christmas time was tame by comparison.
Many were down to lunch, fortified by a highball, but at dinner, mal demer had claimed its victims, and there were only a few brave spirits ondeck to indulge in dancing the first night.
The second day out everybody was trying to remember everyone else byname. One positive lady insisted that A. I. Esberg was Dr. Morton, butlittle mistakes were forgotten, and many of the committee were sooncalling each other by their first names.
While most of us were getting comfortably settled in our deck chairs,someone noticed that Louis Glass, George Vranizan, C. W. Hinchcliffe,Carl Westerfeld, C. A. Thayer, C. H. James, William Symon, F. S.Ballinger, P. H. Lyon, S. L. Schwartz and Henry Mattlage had disappearedbelow. And it is said by one who trailed them to their lair, that theFantan and Pie-gow games, going on in the steerage, were the magnet.
There were other discoveries in the steerage. A Servian girl, AlmaKarlin, who speaks ten languages fluently, but could not afford afirst-class pa