Once there was a little E-Flat Town that needed a Direct Communication with a Trunk Line.
A Promoter wearing Sunday Clothes and smoking 40-cent Cigars came out from the City to see about it.
The Daily Paper put him on the Front Page. Five Dollars was the Set- Back for each Plate at the Banquet tendered him by the Mercantile Association. A Bonus was offered, together with a Site for the Repair Shops and the Round House.
When the College Graduates in Khaki Suits began to drag Chains across Lots, a wave of Joy engulfed Main Street from the Grain Elevator clear out to the Creamery.
Then came 10,000 Carusos, temporarily residing in Box Cars, to disarrange the Face of Nature and put a Culvert over the Crick. Real Estate Dealers emerged from their Holes and local Rip Van Winkles began to sit up and rub their Eyes.
One morning a Train zipped through the Cut and pulled up at the New Station.
The Road was an Assured Fact. The Rails were spiked down; the Rolling Stock was in Commission; Trains were running according to Schedule.
There was no longer any Reason for Waiting, so the Citizens hiked over to the Court House and began to file Damage Suits. The Town Council started in to pass Ordinances and the Board of Equalization whooped the Taxes.
Horny-handed Jurors hung around the Circuit Court-Room waiting for a Chance to take a Wallop at the soulless Corporation.
When the Promoter came along on a Tour of Inspection, the only Person down to meet him was the Sheriff.
Children in the Public School practised the new Oval Penmanship by filling their Copy-Books with the following popular Catch-Line: “When you have a Chance to Soak the Railroad, go to it.”
And the Trains never ran to suit Everybody.
MORAL: Go easy with Capital until you get it Roped and Tied.