"I know a print shop we can buy
for a song; it's on Merchant street near Montgomery. Small but
comfortable, and just the thing. $500 down would start us."
Sinton pulled at his chin a moment. "Go ahead then," he urged. "I'll
loan you the money."
King's hand shot out to grasp the auctioneer's. "There ought to be
10,000 decent citizens in San Francisco who'll give us their support.
Let's go and see the owner of that print-shop now."
* * * * *
On the afternoon of October 5th, 1885, a tiny four-page paper made its
first appearance on the streets of San Francisco.
The first page, with its queer jumble of news and advertisements, had a
novel and attractive appearance quite apart from the usual standards of
typographical make-up. People laughed at King's naive editorial apology
for entering an overcrowded and none-too-prosperous field; they nodded
approvingly over his promise to tell the truth with fearless
impartiality.
William Coleman was among the first day's visitors.
"Good luck to you, James King of William," he held forth a friendly
hand. The editor, turning, rose and grasped it with sincere cordiality.
They stood regarding each other silently.
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