When President Taft pressed a gold telegraph key in the White House on June 1, 1909, the Alaska–Yukon–Pacific Exposition (AYPE) opened its wonders to the public. When it closed on October 16, 1909, after a continuous run of 138 days, attendance had reached 3.7 million, which translates into 26,812 visitors per day. The fair cost around $10 million to put on and almost ran out of money during its construction, but a number of wealthy individuals stepped forward to keep it from closing before it opened.

One of the measurements of success for a world-class exposition is rarely mentioned—the legacy that such an event creates for the surrounding community. In the case of the AYPE, its chief legacy was the beginning development of the University of Washington campus. In general, one of the primary goals of fair management centers on "going out of business" successfully. Therefore, most buildings are temporary in nature and constructed to last little more than six months. Such was the case regarding the AYPE's residual value to the university. The buildings were only used for a short time before they had to be replaced with more permanent and long-lasting structures, but the location and layout of the campus could not be improved upon. It is a magnificent setting for a major university, and as buildings were replaced one by one, it became a major "educational jewel" in Washington's crown.

The opening of the "Klondike Gold Rush" was a featured event. The exposition certainly contributed to a continuing positive relationship with Alaska. Billed as the "Wonder of Wonders," the AYPE took its rightful place in the history of world's fairs and placed Seattle and the state of Washington on the map. At the conclusion of the historic event, even the critics had to agree that it was successful in moving Seattle into the 20th century.

In the mid 1950s a Seattle city councilman named Al Rochester gave voice to a dream of his—that Seattle would host another world's fair. At the age of 14, Rochester had worked in a tearoom at the 1909 event. The tearoom went broke shortly after it opened, but young Rochester kept his employee pass and happily used it to attend the fair every day. The great event left a lasting impression, and almost 50 years later his idea of another world's fair in Seattle began to catch people's attention and gather support. Surely it was time for Seattle to return to its position on the world stage by hosting the 1962 world's fair. Its official banner headlined the event as "The Century 21 Exposition."

Business executive and civic leader Eddie Carlson—referred to in his high school yearbook as a "pint of dynamite"—took on the task of organizing the fair with a full head of steam. The fair development commission, of which he was chairmen, found the best site at the foot of Queen Anne Hill. The 28-acre site, owned by the City of Seattle, contained the Civic Auditorium, a sports complex and the National Guard Armory. All of this ground could be used for the event, and the City cooperated with the purchase of surrounding properties, allowing the fair to place 78 acres within its gates.

Meanwhile, in Germany on a business trip, Carlson and his wife were dining with friends at the top of a 400-foot-high television tower restaurant in Stuttgart. Eddie marveled that people would pay to ride to the top of the tower and, once there, pay a premium price for dinner. He began ­doodling on a napkin and came up with the idea that became the Space Needle. He thought the restaurant should be named the "Flying Saucer." Of course, this became Seattle's icon and rightfully takes it place among famous municipal signatures such as the Eiffel Tower in Paris; the Sydney Opera House in Australia; Toronto Tower in Canada; and the beautiful arch, "Gateway to the West," in St. Louis.

Joe Gandy, prominent Ford dealer and salesman extraordinaire, succeeded Carlson on the world's fair commission. It fell to him to secure official designation for the Seattle event, which required a trip to Paris and a visit to the Bureau of International Expositions (BIE). Gandy was met with a great deal of skepticism as to whether this little city out in the West could successfully host an exposition. When Gandy found out that New York was competing for the same dates, he turned on the salesmanship. In the end, New York was forced to settle for dates in 1964.

The BIE's blessing does not guarantee foreign participation, but it opens up the diplomatic channels. In all, 35 countries participated in the fair. When President Kennedy pushed a button on April 21, 1962, the U.S.A. Pavilion lights came on and the fair was under way. Attendance topped 9,610,000—an average of 51,613 visitors per day. When it closed on October 21 the exposition was decidedly an outstanding success, especially when judged in terms of legacy—the Space Needle, Pacific Science Center, Coliseum, Opera House, and other structures have all served Seattle—and Washington—well. It should be noted that the Seattle Center is fourth in the nation in terms of annual visits. Disney World in Florida is first, Disneyland in California is second, Pier 49 in San Francisco is third. When the fair opened you can bet Al Rochester was pretty proud; it was rumored that he had a free pass and went to the fair nearly every day.

Margaret Leonard, the first female member of the Spokane City Council, was an active opponent of staging a world-class exposition in Spokane. Given enough time, she probably would have killed the whole idea. However, a new player showed up on the Spokane scene. King Cole was Joe Gandy, Eddie Carlson and Al Rochester all rolled into one. What King was selling, Spokane was buying. If Margaret Leonard was leader of the "Spokcan'ts," King Cole was the leader of the "Spokcans." Other community leaders bought into the idea, found the money, met the challenges, and produced Expo '74, a world's fair with "Man and His Environment" as its theme.

The BIE sanctioned the fair and proclaimed that Spokane was the smallest city ever granted a sanction to host a world-class exposition. The New York Times and Wall Street Journal certainly did not help. The word went out on a national scale: "Where is Spokane? When you find it, let us know." Of course, the fair marketing people listened to all the negatives and then made a most important decision relative to promoting and selling the event. The small marketing department, that the big boys said was kind of a joke, came up with the following. "Visit the wonders of the Pacific Northwest. Be sure and visit Mount Rainier and Grand Coulee Dam. By the way, Spokane, the largest city between Seattle and Minneapolis, is hosting a world's fair. Stop by and have a look. You will be impressed." It worked. Everyone in the state of Washington started promoting the fair. The marketing theme became, "Why not have your family reunion in Washington State?" The fair realized 5.4 million visits—way beyond the 4.8 million that were projected. The little city that could, did.

When you have only 900 first class hotel rooms and you are serious about staging a world-class exposition, you have a major problem. The gas shortage in early 1974 added another layer of difficulty. The board of directors and staff came up with two solutions. Winnebago Industries was sitting in Forest City, Iowa, with a huge inventory of recreational vehicles—the market had disappeared due to the gas shortage. The fair organizers struck a deal with Winnebago to have 100 RVs, painted in expo colors, make the trek to Spokane and become the "Winnebago Village." This strategy was an outstanding success. The village was filled with families every night. The national press began printing stories about the "Winnebago Wagon Train To Spokane"—not the most positive publicity, but at least it was publicity.

Since the majority of out-of-town visitors were certain to arrive by car, the gas shortage created a major difficulty. Senator Warren Magnuson managed to arrange for a million gallons of gasoline from Canada. The fair organizers made deals with a number of service station operators up and down Interstate 5 and Highway 97 from California to Washington and Spokane. They were to paint their stations in Expo '74 colors and provide gasoline to travelers who, by the way, had to show an entry ticket to the fair. Fortunately, the gas problem dissolved overnight and this plan was never utilized.

One of the benefits of a well-planned, well-organized exposition is its ability to draw large amounts of funding from outside the area. These funds take the form of government grants, corporate sponsorships, and low interest loans against projected revenues. Federal and state grants allowed Spokane to obtain a first-class opera house, an up-to-date convention and trade show center, as well as a recreation and event complex that utilized the federal pavilion after the fair. A study done by Gonzaga University determined that these residuals from the fair had an approximate value of $100 million. They formed the nucleus of the very successful downtown Riverfront Park, which is considered one of the finest urban parks in the country.

Al Rochester, who would have been 78 at the time, is known to have attended the fair. He may or may not have had a season pass. The three world fairs held in Washington, each so different and spanning 65 years, had one thing in common: they were all very successful and left substantial residuals that served as valuable resources long after the fairs were over—a blessing indeed.

Paul Creighton, president of Creighton Management, Inc., traveled the world as a consultant in 26 countries. He served in the senior management of world's fairs in Seattle; Spokane; Vancouver, B.C.; Knoxville; Vienna, Austria; and Hungary.