[Below is the last part of a long article about Frank Fuller published in the New York Times on 1 October 1911. You can access the whole article, which includes accounts of Fuller's experiences with Lincoln and Brigham Young, at Barbara Schmidt's archive Mark Twain in the New York Times under the following head:]
"I saw my first of Mark Twain in Nevada, in the little capital town under the mountain where Gov. James W. Nye lived. He was employed at something or other around the Governor's premises. On that trip I was admitted to the bar of Nevada, the motion to admit me being made by William M. Stewart, afterward United States Senator.
"Mark Twain at that time was writing more or less for the Territorial Enterprise of Virginia City, owned and edited by James T. Goodman. A year later I visited California and found Mark Twain there, and we became quite intimate. That was in 1863. He was writing chiefly for the Morning Call.
"Coming back from California we stopped for dinner at Job Taylor's in America Valley. Job kept liquor for sale, and the driver got drunk and drove the stage over a stump. I was thrown out and seriously injured, and I resigned.
"A few years passed, and I was ensconced in a fine suite of offices at 57 Broadway, in this city, as Vice President of the Northern Pacific Railroad Company. My interest in the company was created by good old Josiah Perham. He loved a patient listener, and that he found in me. When in the West I had Perham's glowing plans in view constantly. The 'Colonel Rowland' which the historians connect me with was a useless hanger-on, so far as I could judge, and so he proved.
"I did not seek office. Perham begged me to speak to the Boston Board of Trade, and I consented. Subsequently they put me in as one of the Directors and made me Vice President, and I worked with them as long as I remained.
"I was sitting in my private office at 57 Broadway one day when Mark Twain arrived in New York after is successful lectures in San Francisco, Sacramento, Virginia City, and St. Louis. He walked into my office and drawled out:
"'Frank, I want to preach right here in New York, and it must be in the biggest hall to be found. I find it is the Cooper Union, and that it costs $70 for one evening, and I have got just $7.'
"I told him he should have that big hall, and he 'preached' there to the biggest audience it had ever held. We started right away to interest the public in his lecture on the Sandwich Islands. We put advertisements in the papers calling on all citizens of the Pacific Coast to meet in the evening at the Metropolitan Hotel to take measures for stimulating interest in the lecture and to give him a big send off.
"George Butler, a nephew of Ben Butler of Massachusetts, who held a Consular position in one of the South American countries, presided at the meeting. He made a speech, introduced Mark Twain, who also made a speech, and there was much enthusiasm.
"Mark wanted somebody to go to Washington and get Gov. James W. Nye to promise to come on and sit on the stage, after introducing Mark to the audience. I was selected to go, made the trip to Washington, and was pleasantly received. Gov. Nye instantly consented to introduce Mark, and begged me to sit right down and write a nice promise and he would sign it. This was duly done.
"It was arranged that he should be at the Astor House at 7:30 on the appointed night. I looked in at the old Astor when the night arrived, and found Mark in a perfect fever lest that blank blanked Nye was going to disappoint him. I felt that he would, and instructed Mark to proceed to the hall in a carriage at 7:30. Gov. Nye did not materialize. Mark begged me to take his place, but I refused positively, and he had to introduce himself.
"Twenty-five years later I met Gov. Nye on a steamboat going to Glen Cove. 'Why did you disappoint us that night?' I asked him. 'I never intended to show up,' he replied. 'He's nothing but a damned Secessionist.'
"I sent invitations and two tickets to the lecture to every banker, teacher, professors in the colleges, and such like, and expected a fine audience.
"Mark was never a very fine dresser, and though his ordinary sack suit was good enough. I told him he must wear evening dress, and he said he never had had a claw-hammer coat in his life. I put Linthicum, a first-class tailor, nearly opposite Stewart's uptown store, on the job, and made him procure a suitable collar and necktie. They he fixed himself in my private office and rehearsed.
"He gave me his description of the volcanic eruption at Hawaii, when the melted lava made the ocean boil for forty miles.
"When Mark rehearsed he railed at the damned tailor who had sewed up the buttonholes so that he couldn't button his coat. I told him it was not customary to button a dress coat. He pointed to my engraving of Daniel Webster and sarcastically wondered who knew best. Webster or a scrub of a tailor. He then wished to know if I knew of any other man who wore evening dress when engaged in his ordinary vocation. I told him I had heard that there was one such in the City of Philadelphia, a popular and able lawyer.
"Mark walked on the stage that night and peered down as if hunting for a missing penny, and then remarked:
"'I was looking for Gen. Nye, who had promised to introduce me, but I see nothing of him, and as there are no other Generals in town just now we will have to worry along without him. This programme declares that a grand piano will be on hand, but as I don't see it and see no grand pianist anyway, I reckon it will have to dispensed with.
"'The Sandwich Islands are situated 2,700 miles southwest of San Francisco, but why they were placed way out there in the middle of the Pacific Ocean does not become us to inquire.
"And so he went on, and the shouts of laughter and the bursts of applause were far beyond anything I have ever witnessed.
"The expense of the lecture was a little over $600; the receipts were not quite $300.
"Some twenty-five years later I asked Mark if he remembered the time when he only had $7, and wanted to 'preach' in Cooper Union.
"'Seven dollars!' he exclaimed. 'I had $700 in gold in old man Leland's safe at the hotel.'
"'You did not tell me that, Mark,' I responded.
"'Well,' he drawled, 'maybe I didn't bring out the second syllable quite plainly.'"