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29 2 Hope San Francisco had seen many prospectors in its history, from missionaries seeking souls to eager pursuers of land, fortune, and gold. Now, as diplomats from around the world arrived for the United Nations Conference on International Organization, a new wave of prospectors followed. Like the Gold Rush pioneers of 1849, they struck out for the West without waiting for an invitation. Instead of picks, pans, and shovels, they came with the tools of modern public relations—handshakes, press agents, brochures , and persistence. The new prospectors came from Philadelphia and from another gold region, the Black Hills of South Dakota, with no qualms whatsoever about encroaching on the host city, which also coveted the chance to become the Capital of the World. Throughout March and April 1945, hope for the future of the world poured into San Francisco. Delegates from the Allied nations came to draft the charter for the new United Nations organization, and dignitaries arrived to bestow official blessings on the project. Hotels filled with men and women who worked for the State Department. People who envisioned a postwar world without discrimination, oppression, or imperialism came to raise their voices. In a city bursting with anticipation, it was perhaps fitting that the arrivals included a man named Hope—the comedian Bob Hope, who entertained servicemen and women at the Alameda Naval Air Station and produced a flourish of jokes about the United Nations for his syndicated humor column.1 For San Francisco, it felt like destiny. The city had long prided itself on being “cosmopolitan” and promoted itself as such—a place of many histories and cultures, dating from its earliest years under the flags of Spain, Mexico, and the United States. This did not mean that San Francisco always welcomed newcomers, as its residents of Chinese and Japanese ancestry surely could attest. But with a history of tourism that dated from the nineteenth century, the city had come to appreciate the marketability of an exotic Chinatown, Russian Hill, and the Italian-village flavor of 30 From War to Peace Fisherman’s Wharf. Although international trade had been interrupted during the war, the waterfront had long been a port for sailors and stevedores from around the world. Now, it seemed, San Francisco was being recognized as the world city it had always been.2 The question of where the United Nations might find a permanent home was not on the agenda as the Allied nations gathered in San Francisco , but this did not stop newspapers from speculating that the UN might settle in one of the capital cities in Europe, in Washington, D.C., or perhaps somewhere in Canada. Those familiar with the League of Nations knew that diplomats had selected Geneva at the same meetings that produced the League Covenant, so it was not beyond reason that the new United Nations organization might take a similar step. Boosters began to mobilize. Quebec City, where Franklin Roosevelt and Winston Churchill held two wartime conferences, issued a formal invitation. Philadelphia had scored enough publicity to secure a place in many press accounts, and sometimes the Black Hills idea surfaced as well. Attention turned foremost to San Francisco, which became the temporary Capital of the World in the sense of earlier international conferences that accorded the honor to Geneva , The Hague, and Washington, D.C.3 Even long-time San Francisco residents, accustomed to living at the crossroads of many cultures and seasoned by the experiences of hosting two world’s fairs, marveled at the growing spectacle of the United Nations Conference on International Organization (UNCIO). State Department staff arrived early in March to do the advance work of finding a meeting hall, notifying hotels, arranging for security, and cutting through the red tape of wartime food restrictions so that the great assembly could be fed. In April, a Library of Congress specialist arrived to set up a collection of two thousand volumes in five languages. When San Franciscans clamored to help, Mayor Roger Lapham channeled their enthusiasm into an array of committees for finance, entertainment, press, and decorations. Socialites planned parties, and merchants filled their windows with luxury goods and specially designed United Nations neckties. Twelve military bands began to practice forty-six national anthems.4 And then, the world stopped. On April 12, 1945, at 3:35 in the afternoon, Franklin Delano Roosevelt died from a cerebral hemorrhage while vacationing in Warm Springs, Georgia. The president’s health had been failing visibly for months, even when...

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