The San Francisco Examiner (San Francisco, California) · Wed, Feb 5, 1896
Frank McManus - The Deposed King Say’s Goodbye
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The San Francisco Examiner (San Francisco, California) · Wed, Feb 5, 1896
FEBRUARY 5, 1896.
The King has gone. The Potrero bas asserted its authority, and stands in the godlike attitude of freedom. McManus, Rex, has joined the illustrious procession of kings in exile.
Once upon a time Frank McManus ruled the Potrero with a rod of brass and a fist of tron. The divinity that hedged the King lay in the aspect of those horney, terrible fists, and treason dared but peep, and peeped not loud but deep.
Like other Kings who have discovered themselves superfitous, McManus went without making a fuss. He did not attend the tuneral of his greatness, but just faded away like the baseless fabric of a weather prophecy. His courtiers who were not courtly, and his retinue who were turbulent and beery, have become absorbed or been swept away by the advancing tide of civiliza-tion, for the Potrero is not what it was. It is now a locality noted for handsome and comfortable residences, the dwellings of people with a stake. With them the King could not "do politics.'
Nay, he could not even sell them beer. The brewery syndicate does not like McManus, and interfered with his trade so much that it became unprofitable. The syndicate is not susceptible to the pleading of the monarch's favorite arguments. It has a body that can't be kicked, and such soul as it may be endowed with is not troubled abouta future state. So months ago the King moved, went, escaped, vamoosed. A little later he came back again in search of his former greatness, but it was no use. The environment was no longer hospitable.
Kings come and go, thrones totter, dynasties pass, but the Potrero moves on with majestic tread fulfilling its manifest destiny to be free and intolerant of the yoke of the usurper.
The banquet (free lunch) halls (bar-rooms) where once the courtiers held high (rough and tumble) revelry are deserted, even dismantled, for yesterday the royal bar was loaded on an unpoetic dray and carted away for junk. Not a beery tear was shed. Long ago the schooner had sailed away in ballast.
Only a dusty, blotted sign bearing the name of "Frank McManus" remains. He was the first and last of his line and the popular error that he was McManus V may be attached to a mental confusion between the price of beer and its effects.
NOW A KING EXILE.
Frank McManus Has Ended His Reign as Absolute Ruler of the Potrero.
-
The Bar That Hedged the Monarch Has Been Rudely Carted Away to a Junk Shop.
-
NO COURTIERS BID HIM FAREWELL.
-
Once He Shaped the Destinies of the Southern Part of the City, but He Has Lost His Power.
-
Frank McManus Has Ended His Reign as Absolute Ruler of the Potrero.
-
The Bar That Hedged the Monarch Has Been Rudely Carted Away to a Junk Shop.
-
NO COURTIERS BID HIM FAREWELL.
-
Once He Shaped the Destinies of the Southern Part of the City, but He Has Lost His Power.
-
The King has gone. The Potrero bas asserted its authority, and stands in the godlike attitude of freedom. McManus, Rex, has joined the illustrious procession of kings in exile.
Once upon a time Frank McManus ruled the Potrero with a rod of brass and a fist of tron. The divinity that hedged the King lay in the aspect of those horney, terrible fists, and treason dared but peep, and peeped not loud but deep.
Like other Kings who have discovered themselves superfitous, McManus went without making a fuss. He did not attend the tuneral of his greatness, but just faded away like the baseless fabric of a weather prophecy. His courtiers who were not courtly, and his retinue who were turbulent and beery, have become absorbed or been swept away by the advancing tide of civiliza-tion, for the Potrero is not what it was. It is now a locality noted for handsome and comfortable residences, the dwellings of people with a stake. With them the King could not "do politics.'
Nay, he could not even sell them beer. The brewery syndicate does not like McManus, and interfered with his trade so much that it became unprofitable. The syndicate is not susceptible to the pleading of the monarch's favorite arguments. It has a body that can't be kicked, and such soul as it may be endowed with is not troubled abouta future state. So months ago the King moved, went, escaped, vamoosed. A little later he came back again in search of his former greatness, but it was no use. The environment was no longer hospitable.
Kings come and go, thrones totter, dynasties pass, but the Potrero moves on with majestic tread fulfilling its manifest destiny to be free and intolerant of the yoke of the usurper.
The banquet (free lunch) halls (bar-rooms) where once the courtiers held high (rough and tumble) revelry are deserted, even dismantled, for yesterday the royal bar was loaded on an unpoetic dray and carted away for junk. Not a beery tear was shed. Long ago the schooner had sailed away in ballast.
Only a dusty, blotted sign bearing the name of "Frank McManus" remains. He was the first and last of his line and the popular error that he was McManus V may be attached to a mental confusion between the price of beer and its effects.
