“Oh, I don’t think things are as bad as all that,” put in Onias C. Skinner, the president, who had a face which with its very short side-whiskers was as bland as a Chinese god. He was sixty-eight years of age. “They’re not the best cars in the world, but they’re good cars. They need painting and varnishing pretty badly, some of them, but outside of that there’s many a good year’s wear in them yet. I’d be very glad if we could put in new rolling-stock, but the item of expense will be considerable. It’s these extensions that we have to keep building and the long hauls for five cents which eat up the profits.” The so-called “long hauls” were only two or three miles at the outside, but they seemed long to Mr. Skinner.
“Well, look at the South Side,” persisted Kaffrath. “I don’t know what you people are thinking of. Here’s a cable system introduced in Philadelphia. There’s another in San Francisco. Some one has invented a car, as I understand it, that’s going to run by electricity, and here we are running cars—barns, I call them—with straw in them. Good Lord, I should think it was about time that some of us took a tumble to ourselves!”
“Oh, I don’t know,” commented Mr. Skinner. “It seems to me we have done pretty well by the North Side. We have done a good deal.”
Directors Solon Kaempfaert, Albert Thorsen, Isaac White, Anthony Ewer, Arnold C. Benjamin, and Otto Matjes, being solemn gentlemen all, merely sat and stared.
The vigorous Kaffrath was not to be so easily repressed, however. He repeated his complaints on other occasions. The fact that there was also considerable complaint in the newspapers from time to time in regard to this same North Side service pleased him in a way. Perhaps this would be the proverbial fire under the terrapin which would cause it to move along.
By this time, owing to Cowperwood’s understanding with McKenty, all possibility of the North Side company’s securing additional franchises for unoccupied streets, or even the use of the La Salle Street tunnel, had ended. Kaffrath did not know this. Neither did the directors or officers of the company, but it was true. In addition, McKenty, through the aldermen, who were at his beck and call on the North Side, was beginning to stir up additional murmurs and complaints in order to discredit the present management. There was a great to-do in council over a motion on the part of somebody to compel the North Side company to throw out its old cars and lay better and heavier tracks. Curiously, this did not apply so much to the West and South Sides, which were in the same condition. The rank and file of the city, ignorant of the tricks which were constantly being employed in politics to effect one end or another, were greatly cheered by this so-called “public uprising.” They little knew the pawns they were in the game, or how little sincerity constituted the primal impulse.
Quite by accident, apparently, one day Addison, thinking of the different men in the North Side company who might be of service to Cowperwood, and having finally picked young Kaffrath as the ideal agent, introduced himself to the latter at the Union League.
“That’s a pretty heavy load of expense that’s staring you North and West Side street-railway people in the face,” he took occasion to observe.
“How’s that?” asked Kaffrath, curiously, anxious to hear anything which concerned the development of the business.
“Well, unless I’m greatly mistaken, you, all of you, are going to be put to the expense of doing over your lines completely in a very little while—so I hear—introducing this new motor or cable system that they are getting on the South Side.” Addison wanted to convey the impression that the city council or public sentiment or something was going to force the North Chicago company to indulge in this great and expensive series of improvements.