Appendix

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At 10 O’clock in the morning a parade led by mayor, “Sunny Jim” Rolph, heads down Scott street followed by a crowd of some 200,000 people. Nearing the entry gates, Rolph becomes so excited he begins to run and the following throng surges forward after him. Those who have already purchased their 50¢ Opening Day badges are quickly passed through. The rest queue up before dozens of turnstiles manned by smartly uniformed attendants. The more impatient head for the entrances located at Fillmore and Baker streets. Once inside the gates, this mass of humanity swarms around the fantastic Fountain of Energy and piles up at the base of the temporary grandstands erected in front of the Tower of Jewels where they brave intermittent showers and occasional hail while patiently listening to the florid hyperbole of various dignitaries.

Their speeches are routinely brought to a halt with appreciative whistles, cheers and applause even though their voices can only be heard by a few in the front ranks. Interludes are filled by selections from Cassasa’s Exposition Band.

Finally, the moment everyone has been waiting for arrives. It’s noon. Charles C. Moore, president of the Exposition, places a trans-continental phone call to President Woodrow Wilson in Washington, D.C. informing him that the Exposition is prepared to open. Wilson presses a telegraph key which sends a signal to an antenna atop the 435foot tall Tower of Jewels.

The signal passes to the power house located behind the gargantuan Machinery Hall, and the Chief Engineer engages the switch which activates the electrical and water pressure systems. Jets of water shoot into the air from fountains located all about the grounds. Doors to all the exhibit halls swing open. A deafening salute roars out from the guns of warships anchored in the bay.

Just as the multitude begins to disperse, a surprise appearance by Lincoln Beachey flying his Little Looper biplane forces them to halt. Everyone gapes skyward as the hometown boy — the countries most famous aviator — guides his plane toward the top of the Tower of Jewels its form dissolved in the shimmering iridescence of the 100,000 “gems” adorning it. Circling the spire, Beachey releases four white doves. A tremendous cheer swells up from the audience as they watch these symbols of peace flutter out of view.

Beachey manages to excite the host still further with a series of loop-the-loops. With the completion of each loop, he looses altitude until it seems as though his frail craft will shatter upon the towers jutting above the blue domed roofs. A quarter of a million people are transfixed by his daring. Finishing his third loop, Beachey waves to the on-lookers who salute him with a thunderous ovation. The sound of the applause drowns out the sound of his tiny engine as he wheels low over the roofs heading for a landing on the lawn of the North Gardens. Behind him, the immense crowd in the South Gardens begins to spread out in every direction anxious to see what long anticipated wonders await them. The “Dream Worth Dreaming” has officially begun and will continue uninterrupted for another nine months.