8	THE CHICAGO BANKER	[Volume XXVII
			
STATE BANK OF CHICAGO			THE FARMERS’ AND MECHANICS’ NATIONAL BANK OF PHILADELPHIA, PA. 427 CHESTNUT STREET Capital - - - $2,000,000.00 Surplus and Profits 1,348,000.00 ORGANIZED JANUARY 17, 1807 Dividends Paid - $12,847,000.00 OFFICERS Howard W. Lewis, President Henry B. Bartow, Cashier John Mason, Transfer Officer Oscar E. Weiss, Assistant Cashier ACCOUNTS OF INDIVIDUALS, FIRMS, AND CORPORATIONS SOLICITED PRESENT NUMBER OF STOCKHOLDERS 930
ESTABLISHED 1879 S. E. Corner La Salle and Washington Streets Capital - - - $1,500,000 Surplus and profits (earned) 1,500,000 Deposits over - - 20,000,000 OFFICERS L. A. GODDARD, President FRANK I. PACKARD, Asst Cashier JOHN R. LINDGREN, Vice-President C. EDWARD CARLSON, Asst. Cashier HENRY A. HAUGAN, Vice-President SAMUEL E. KNECHT, Secretary HENRY s. HENSCHEN, Cashier WILLIAM C. MILLER, Asst. Secretary			
YOUR CHICAGO BUSINESS RESPECTFULLY INVITED			
			
jäk. IN CINCINNATI With Resources of TWENTY-ONE MILLION DOLLARS And every facility for the satisfactory handling of Bank Accounts CORRESPONDENCE INVITED			
national realm of art with neither boundaries nor provincialisms. To the east the Cascade mountains, through whose beauties thousands must travel to reach their destination, are just far enough away to display their snow-clad beauty in soft outlines and picturesque contours. To the west the jagged Olympics rock-buttressed against the sea, thrust inaccessible peaks abruptly into a sky that at sunset is as truly glorious as any in the world. Directly before us Tacoma, sublimest of mountains, lifting its eternally snow-clad head 1,500 feet above the sea, and at the close of day, reflects back to earth “the thousand varied hues of the bow of Iris” illumined by the setting sun as it slowly sinks to rest, with its “last longing lingering look.”
When it came to financeering the Alaska-Yu-kon-Pacific Exposition another “difference” developed. The Northwest decided to go it alone. It would not ask the United States Government for a dollar and it did not. True the Government erected a magnificent building and installed a superb exhibit, but not one dollar was contributed to help finance the fair. The millions of money necessary was produced by the citizens of Seattle and the State of Washington. One of the most gratifying features of the work is the fact that practically all of the improvements are of a permanent nature and will become by state enactment the property of the University of Washington at the close of the fair, including miles of asphalted streets, extensive landscaping, underground electric conduits, a complete water system, and adequate fire protection for many years, as well as a dozen or so magnificent permanent structures, which with but slight alterations can be adapted to the uses of the university.
I shall not attempt to describe the Exposition itself, but extend to you a most hearty invitation to come and see. As its three-part title indicates, its purpose is to exploit the Northland and the states and countries bordering on the great ocean which seems destined to replace the Atlantic as the theatre of events which make up the scenario in the drama of world politics. Here where the personification of culture and progress, as represented in the art of the famed Exposition buildings and gardens is strangely set down in an al-
setting that has deservedly won for the fair the title that has been bestowed upon it, the “Exposition Beautiful.”
Round the banks of the plunging Cascades are thousands of full-blown rose bushes. Round the Geyser Basin are 300,000 pansies blooming in one huge bed. At the bases of all the buildings are rhododendrons and cactus dahlias in full flower, and the way to the Pay Streak is through a land of scarlet geraniums. There are 100 acres of formal gardens and green lawns. Clematis and other climbing vines curtain the pergolas and colonnades with gorgeous blooms, and here and there is in all directions a sky line of native fir trees and a background of mountain scenery.
By night the Exposition is a spectacle that has never been surpassed. The grounds and buildings are a blaze of light and the Cascades—pouring down the central court—a plunging rainbow, showing every color of the solar prism. The Geyser Basin, at the foot, is a lake of liquid fire in which trout and bass sport among sunken gardens. Every building on the grounds is thrown into brilliant silhouette by incandescent lights dotting their outlines at six-inch intervals, and the Alaska Shaft, which marks the center of the Exposition grounds, is a tower of brilliancy.
A great artist—Charles Dana Gibson—proclaimed it so; but an infinitely greater Artist, the Draughtsman of Nature, made it so. Nestled in a forest of firs that have rested secure for years, as an unused portion of the Campus of the University of Washington, is the 250 acres of the Exposition ground dotted with the best that is in Greek and Roman and French Renaissance in architecture, with the severity and catholicity of their design, relieved and varied by cosmopolitan combinations that tell the story of the world’s broadening and merging toward one great inter-
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Kauffman’s Ex-tempo
Treasurer P. C. Kauffman of the A. B. A., came to Chicago with a neat little extemporaneous speech pinned in his money-belt. He didn’t get a chance until the secretaries’ section met and presented an opening. He said:
When on June 1st of this year, Seattle flung wide the gates of the Alaska-Yukon-Pacific Exposition to welcome the peoples of the world, the Occident and the Orient met face to face and Alaska from her northern retreat, invested by common fallacy with snow and ice, fared forth to meet them and display to an astonished world, her vast resources, and undreamed of possibilities. The Alaska-Yukon-Pacific Exposition is unique, and has well earned the title of the “Exposition that is different.” Its projectors and managers have made good in the fullest sense of the term. With a dint of unceasing attack the ears of the country were told that here was a “Fair that would be ready.” All other expositions had promised the same thing but none had assumed such a self-satisfied, cock-sure tone in bragging about it, as had been done by these W estern publicity men—old exposition men smiled, they knew it was impossible. It had been demonstrated again and again that it was as absurd to believe that a fair could be complete on its opening day as it was to pull off a regatta at the appointed hour. The joke was old, but like all things else associated with this Seattle fair it was in a new form. And so the nation found it humorous. But now who laughs ? June the first when the gates were thrown open and President Taft touched the electric button that started the machinery in motion, every building was completed and practically every exhibit in place. What two short years before had been a forest primeval, almost choked up with a wilderness of undergrowth, where fern and brake, vine, maple and dogwood ran riot as they only can in the heavily timbered hills of Puget Sound, where vegetation is so dense as to rival the jungles of the tropics—had been transformed into a stage