The owner of the Biltmore Salon Gallery in Los Angeles was one of the guests at the exhibit. He was impressed by the quality and scope of the exhibit and he offered to display the exhibit in his gallery at the elegant Biltmore Hotel in downtown Los Angeles. The Biltmore show opened in October of 1933 with a much-expanded audience. Viewers and critics alike were mesmerized by the drama and beauty of the unusual variety of ships. As a result of the favorable public reception, the Los Angeles Art Association decided to create a traveling exhibit for “Our Glorious Navy.” Organized under the auspices of the American Federation of the Arts, the exhibit traveled for over a year to multiple venues across the nation. The East Coast debut occurred in Washington DC in May of 1934 at the National Gallery of Art, which was administered at the time by the Smithsonian Institution. This exhibit was the first one man show by a living naval artist, ever held at the National Gallery. One Washington art critic noted, "Paint, brush, and canvas are Beaumont's weapons that give him free reign of every ship. And he is the supreme boss when it comes to keeping the aesthetic log of the U.S. Navy."
Before the exhibit returned to California, it would appear in New York City, Newport, Newport, Rhode Island, Philadelphia, and Chicago with similar positive reception wherever it traveled.
While “Our Glorious Navy” was on tour, Beau received his first assignment Navy assignment at sea. He was ordered to board the cruiser USS Louisville in California and record its activities as it passes through the Panama Canal to the Atlantic. In Panama, he was to transfer to the new cruiser Portland for fleet maneuvers in the Caribbean. Secretly, the Navy was manipulating the impression of the time it took warships to transit the canal. The Japanese were monitoring ship movements through the canal, and the Navy wished to deny them accurate information on the elapsed time it took ships to deploy from the Atlantic to the Pacific. Beau was impressed with the Navy's secret orders to slow the transit and even stop and anchor while in the canal. During his first extended voyage, Beau recorded every aspect of the Fleet’s operations. He sketched in pencil and in ink for hours each day, making detailed notes about colors he observed as he went along. On those occasions when he was not painting with his easel in plein aire on site, he would return to his ship with his sketches in hand, and complete his refined watercolors his cabin/studio aboard the cruisers.
After observing Fleet exercises for several weeks in the Caribbean, Beau was ordered to Washington D.C. The Presidential Review of the Fleet was to take place in New York harbor on May 31, 1934. Beau was intrigued. He knew that President Roosevelt was scheduled to review the fleet from his flagship, the USS Indianapolis. Beau desperately wanted to witness and record this historic occasion. In pursuit of that goal, he contacted Admiral Leahy in Washington to ask for orders to attend the event. Unfortunately, the admiral had already received so many requests from congressmen and ranking navy officials that he was forced to deny most of the requests. In that context, Leahy concluded that it was inappropriate to grant Lieutenant Beaumont’s request. Of course, Beau was disappointed. However, at the last possible moment, good luck intervened. At the Army-Navy Club in Washington DC, Beau ran into his old friend Captain Smeallie, the Commanding Officer of the President’s Flagship, the USS Indianapolis. Friendship won the day and within hours, Captain Smeallie issued Beau the requisite orders to attend the Presidential Review.
Two days later Beau boarded the USS Indianapolis in New York harbor. Once on board, he learned that formal uniforms had been ordered to be worn for the presidential event. Beau did not own a formal uniform. All he owned was his Service blue uniform. The thought of being in the wrong uniform for such an important event was disturbing to him. But there was nothing to be done on such short notice. As he observed and sketched the activity on decks below him with his usual precision and insight, he was surprised to hear his name called out over the ship’s intercom, "The President wishes to see Lieutenant Beaumont", repeated twice.
"I nearly dropped dead!" Beau remembered, fearing that Roosevelt might notice he was out of uniform. But he made his way to the admiral’s quarters where the President was seated in his wheelchair. Captain Smeallie introduced Beau to the President. FDR began, “Mr. Beaumont, I enjoyed so much the watercolor which Captain Smeallie has just presented to me.” He was referring to Beau’s painting of the USS Indianapolis, accompanied by the President's schooner, Amberjack in the foreground. The painting had been commissioned by Captain Smeallie and the crew of the flagship, and had been completed several months before. Beau was surprised by the accolade and honored by the President’s compliment. He and the President then had an extended chat about his recent experiences sketching fleet activities at sea. After some time became concerned that their conversation might delay the President’s appearance in public, so he finally excused himself by saying that he should probably be on his way. The President graciously excused him and headed for his distinguished assembled guests.
The widespread exposure of "Our Glorious Navy" brought Beau enhanced national recognition. His ship portraits were in demand for publication in numerous newspapers and periodicals throughout the country. Beaumont images appeared in the Los Angeles Examiner and Evening Herald Express, The Washington Post, the New York Times, and the San Francisco Chronicle. And In October of 1934, the Chicago Sunday Tribune ran a full page color layout of “Heavy Weather” an image of the USS Oklahoma, and “Majesty”, the battleship USS Maryland in their Sunday Supplement. Beau also completed sketches that were accompanied by his comments for a multipage article in the popular Cosmopolitan Magazine.
One of the elements that made his paintings so striking was his ability to render effectively the complicated details of the ships in the technically demanding medium of watercolors. "I've had to be as much historian as a painter," he wrote. "I've got a whole Navy full of critics to contend with...men who are ready to jump down my throat if I miss a detail on a ship they've sailed. Accuracy is very important!"