During those days the Chicago Street Railway Company suffered much through what might be called growing pain. The Randolph Street cars turned at Union Park over onto Lake Street, as far as Robey, and there they stopped during the busy hours of morning and evening, only running to their barns on Western Avenue, when they were not in a hurry.

Their excuse for not running all their cars to Western Avenue was that they could not afford to carry passengers so far for five cents, as hay was $5.00 a ton and oats twenty-seven cents per bushel, besides the public demanded such extravagant service.

The patrons continually murmured about the cars being cold in winter, so the company filled into each car about a foot of loose straw to keep feet warm. This did not work, for the ladies' skirts dragged in the mud and tobacco spittle, and as a result our common council rashly passed an ordinance requiring the company to heat their cars.

The company's first impression was that it could be done with hot water bags, which the wise city fathers rejected, so the company turned to red hot iron. They made receptacles at intervals under the seats, where they carried hot iron, which they exchanged, the cold for the hot, at the return of each trip. This could hardly be considered a success, for if one set over where there was no heat the chills would creep up his spinal column, while if he sat over a fresh hot slab he was in danger of being blistered, but the ordinance had been obeyed, and the company was proud of their West Side horse car line until the cruel hand of competition disturbed their sweet repose.

A wide awake German by the name of Kolbe bought up the old North Shore buss line and furnished it with much better horses than the railroad company were using and started in to carry passengers over the same route for four-cent fare.

At first the railroad company ignored Mr. Kolbe, but soon reduced their fare to four cents, and even at that the busses got all the passengers, for they were driven faster.

Now the fun began. The company ordered their drivers to make the trip as fast as the omnibusses, or they would be discharged, while Kolbe gave orders to his drivers to outdo the company. This gave the passengers, whose destination was State Street, regular joy rides, but those who attempted to get on or off along the route, took their lives in their hands. During the heat of excitement, Kolbe dropped the fare to three cents, which the company followed. Even at this, the more frisky passengers continued to patronize the buss line, leaving only a few grandfathers and gentle dames to ride in the cars. This dropped the fare to two cents, when the company bought Kolbe out, paying him a fabulous price for his old bus line, in railroad stock, which now advanced rapidly, and thus the wide awake German made a handsome fortune.

In 1877 Gordon and I opened up a factory just east of the river, on Lake Street. In 1882 we sold our homes on West Lake Street, and built on Washington Boulevard, he at the southwest corner of Albany Avenue, and I at the southeast corner of Francisco Street.

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We continued partners until 1885, when we dissolved, he remaining at the old stand and I starting in the same line on Lake Street, just west of State Street, where through damage by water from an adjacent fire, I lost heavily and made a bad failure. Soon I picked up again and in 1890 bought the northwest corner of Washington Boulevard and Curtis Street, and erected a six-story factory and began manufacturing on a more extensive scale.