The San Francisco Conference ended. After being warmly welcomed by President Truman at the final session reception on 26 June, Buchman left for Mackinac.

En route, he and his party called on 'Poppa' Globin, the ex-bootlegger who had lent them his casino at Lake Tahoe five years earlier. ' "Poppa" wept when he saw Frank,' recorded one of the party. 'Then he put on a large steak dinner for us all.' 'All complimentary!' Buchman insisted in telling the story.

Further adventures ensued when they boarded their train. Buchman had wired a friend's grandmother to meet them during their stop at Omaha, Nebraska, if she would like to do so. 'Frank and I ventured on to the platform,' notes Martin. 'His policy was to send me to every likely looking lady over seventy - and then just to every lady over seventy. Drawing a number of blanks he reduced the age to sixty and dispatched me to do the rounds again. The expression of some of the attendant husbands, as I ignored them and inquired if their wives were Mrs Thomas Hunter, had to be seen to be believed. Finally, Frank pointed out one more lady, but as I approached I recognised her as someone we had already tried. Only then Frank was satisfied and we retired to the train again.'14

Next day, in Chicago, Martin continues, Buchman went on 'one of his gigantic handkerchief shopping benders'. 'Once every two years or so he buys them in bulk for birthday gifts for the team. He begins by asking for a few handkerchiefs, and goes through the whole stock rejecting until he finds one he likes. Then he says, "How many do you have of this?" The answer invariably is, "How many can you use?" To which he says, "Oh, about ten or twelve dozen." The attendant either faints or does business. The price goes down, the obsequiousness mounts and Frank leaves, generally with two gross of handkerchiefs. "What do you need so many for?" asked the girl today. "Oh, I have a lot of poor people I give them to as presents!" replies Frank blandly - and accurately.'15

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