Father laughed. “Besides, we have to wait until Emily’s ankle is better. We’ll be doing lots of walking at the fair. It’s as big as a small town.”
“Are Richard and Anna going, too?” Emily asked. It would be more fun with her sixteen-year-old brother and fourteen-year-old sister along. She was glad when Father said they would be going.
While their mothers prepared dinner and their fathers read the evening newspaper, Ted sat on the large velvet-covered footstool beside Emily, and they made plans for their trip. They were so excited about it that they completely forgot about Uncle Enoch and the bank run.
When Uncle Enoch and Aunt Tina arrived for dinner an hour later, Emily and Ted looked at each other. They both remembered the bank run.
Aunt Tina went into the kitchen with the other women. Uncle Enoch hung his stylish black bowler hat on the hat rack beside the other men’s hats. Then he went to speak with Ted and Emily’s fathers.
The men were across the room from Ted and Emily. They spoke in such low voices that the children could only hear a few words. The cousins stopped talking and tried to hear the men.
“We won’t be able to take the trip if our fathers lose all their money,” Emily whispered.
Ted didn’t answer.
Finally, Uncle Charles looked over toward them. “You two may as well hear what your Uncle Enoch has to say, since you already know about the bank run.”
The men moved closer so Emily wouldn’t have to move with her sore ankle.
Uncle Enoch sat on the edge of the small beige and pink flowered chair Mother had sat on while doing her needlework. He looked very big on such a dainty chair, but it was the closest chair to Emily.
He leaned forward with an elbow on his good knee. The jacket of his business suit hung open. “The Farmers’ and Mechanics’ Bank, where I work, has more than enough money to pay all the people who keep their savings there.” He held up his right hand, palm out. “I give you my word: Your parents’ money is safe.”
Emily wanted to believe him, but it was hard after seeing all those people at the bank earlier. She was glad when Ted asked, “Then why was there a run on your bank?”
Uncle Enoch spread his hands and lifted his eyebrows. “We aren’t certain, but we have an idea. We think people mixed us up with another bank. The Farmers’ and Merchants’ Bank sounds a lot like my bank, the Farmers’ and Mechanics’ Bank, doesn’t it?”
The two cousins nodded.
“Well,” Uncle Enoch continued, “the other bank—the Farmers’ and Merchants’ Bank—had a run on it this morning. That bank hadn’t as much money as we do in our vaults. They locked their doors at noon because they didn’t have any more money to pay to the people who kept their savings at that bank.”
“Why doesn’t the bank have the people’s money?” Emily asked.
“Yes, why?” Ted repeated. “When people put money in the bank, isn’t the bank supposed to put their money in the vault to keep it safe until the people want it back?”
“Not exactly.” Uncle Enoch pushed his round, wire-rimmed glasses into place. “When people put their money in the bank, they are called depositors. The bank pays depositors interest for putting their money in the bank.”
Ted and Emily nodded.
“Why do you think the bank pays people for bringing their money to the bank?” Uncle Enoch asked. Emily shook her head. “I don’t know.” Ted frowned. “I don’t know, either.”
Uncle Enoch smiled. “The bank pays people interest for letting the bank use their money.”
Surprise jerked Ted up straight. “You mean the bank doesn’t keep the money in the safe?”
“Not all of it,” Uncle Enoch said. “Much of it is loaned to people and businesses.”
“Like when a man needs a loan to build a house?” Ted asked.
“Yes.” Uncle Enoch smiled. “Or when a businessman needs a loan to add on to his business. When the bank loans someone money, they pay the bank interest.”
“I see now!” Ted threw his hands in the air. “It’s simple. The people with the loans pay the bank interest. Then the bank uses that money to pay interest to the depositors.”
“That’s right,” Uncle Enoch agreed.
“I understand now,” Emily said.
Uncle Enoch leaned forward to explain more. “When there’s a run on a bank, like there was on our bank and the other bank today, it doesn’t cause any trouble if the bank hasn’t loaned out too much money. Understand?”
Ted and Emily nodded.
“What happens to the depositors who wanted to take their money back out of the other bank but couldn’t get it today?” Ted asked.
“That depends,” Uncle Enoch said. “If the people the bank loaned the money to pay it back, the bank can pay the depositors but not right away.”
“What if the people with the loans don’t pay back the bank?” Ted asked slowly.
“Then the depositors might lose their savings,” Uncle Enoch said soberly.
“Are you sure the people your bank loaned money to will pay it back?”
Uncle Enoch nodded. “We believe most of them will. We’re very careful about who we lend our depositors’ money to.”
“I hope so,” Emily said, pointing a finger at Uncle Enoch and wiggling it playfully, “because I want to go to the World’s Fair in Chicago!”
Ted and the men laughed. “Me, too,” her father said, his eyes sparkling with laughter.
Ted and Emily hoped to leave for the fair as soon as school was out for the summer, but that didn’t happen. They grew restless waiting for the end of July, when Father said they would leave.
In the meantime, they read everything they could find on the fair. The Minneapolis Tribune had many articles about it. Emily’s brother and sister, Richard and Anna, and Emily’s parents read the articles as eagerly as Ted and Emily. They spent many evenings in the Allerton parlor planning their trip and deciding which exhibits each most wanted to see.
“Can’t we leave this week?” Emily asked at the end of one such evening. “This waiting is terrible. Why, I’m going to be an old maid before we get there!”
Everyone laughed.
Mother smiled primly. “Planning a trip is half the fun.”
Emily and Ted exchanged exasperated looks.
Emily sighed and flopped down on her stomach in the middle of the flowered parlor rug, her arms folded across the newspaper where she had been reading about Minnesota’s building at the fair.
“Do sit up, Emily,” Mother said, shaking her head. “I wonder if I shall ever make a young lady of you. If you continue to flop around on the floor like a boy, you may be an old maid one day after all.”
Emily sat up, the corners of her lips bent down and her cheeks red.
“At least there’s the Hill parade later this week,” Ted reminded Emily.
“Yes.” Emily smiled at him, grateful that her cousin was trying to ease her embarrassment.
The parade was to celebrate the arrival of James Hill’s Great Northern Railroad at Puget Sound on the Pacific coast. James Hill had started out as a young man in St. Paul, the sister city of Minneapolis. The two cities thought his accomplishment was their accomplishment, too.
“It sounds like the parade is going to be gigantic,” Richard said. “One of the biggest affairs ever held in the Twin Cities.”
“It should be.” Father’s newspaper crackled as he lowered it and looked at them over the top of it. “Mr. Hill is thought by many to be the greatest man in the United States.”
“Not by Uncle Enoch,” Emily reminded him. “Uncle Enoch thinks Mr. Hill takes foolish risks with his money.”
Ted laughed. “He has a lot of money to take risks with. The newspaper says he has twenty-five million dollars.”
“Someone with that much money could never go broke,” Emily said.
Ted nodded, smiling.
Richard rested his elbows on his knees and spread his hands. “Still, hundreds of railroads are going broke this year. T
he panic is causing money trouble everywhere. And it must have cost James Hill a lot of money to build the railroad all the way from Minnesota to Puget Sound.”
“People did call it Hill’s Folly,” Father agreed.
Emily glanced at Ted and noticed a frown on his face. Was he afraid that the Great Northern Railroad could be in trouble? What would happen to Ted if Uncle Charles lost his job?
That Saturday, Ted went to the railroad yard to meet his father and walk home from work with him. As he headed toward the yard, he remembered the conversation at the Allertons’. His stomach tightened. Angrily he pushed the scary thoughts away.
“Hey, there! Ted! Wait up!”
Ted turned at the call, glad to see Erik running toward him across the wooden platform in front of the station house. He dodged through the people who were always streaming from the large station. Erik carried his bicycle hat in one hand, and his straight brown hair flopped as he ran. A grin spread across his friendly face.
Ted grinned back. “What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be working?”
“I’ve sold all my papers. The railroad station is always a good place to sell them. People arriving want the latest news. People leaving want something to read on the train.” He fell into step beside Ted. “What are you doing here?”
“I’m meeting my father.” Ted hesitated. He didn’t want to seem unfriendly, but he remembered his parents’ warnings not to become friendly with newsboys. If they knew Erik, maybe they’d like him, he thought. “Would … would you like to come along and meet him?”
“Sure!”
Ted had been sure Erik would want to meet his father. Most boys he knew wanted to meet him. Engineers had exciting, good-paying jobs. Many men started work on the railroad as brakemen, like Erik’s father. Even though the job was dangerous, the men did it in hopes of one day becoming an important engineer.
The boys stopped to watch a train steaming into the station. Ted held his breath while a brakeman ran across the top of the railroad cars and grabbed the round wheel at the back of a car. The man braced himself and turned the wheel to brake the car. The train slowed. Steam hissed from behind the wheels.
Ted grinned at Erik. “Your father must be brave to have been a brakeman. Running across the top of the cars looks exciting, but I wouldn’t want to do it at night or in a snowstorm or when a train is flying down the track at forty miles an hour.”
Erik didn’t smile back. “I’ll be glad when the trains all have the new air brakes. Then engineers like your father will be able to stop the trains safely from the engine.”
Ted didn’t know what to say.
When they reached Ted’s father’s engine, the train’s fireman was holding a large copper can with a long, skinny spout. Ted knew he was using it to oil the bearings on the drive wheels, which were taller than the fireman.
“Hello, Mr. Thomas,” Ted said, touching his fingers to his baseball hat. “Have a good trip?”
“Yup. Glad to be back, though.”
Mr. Thomas’s face was red and wrinkled. It seemed to Ted that the man’s face was always red. He supposed it was from shoveling coal to make steam for the engine hour after hour during the train trips. It was one of his duties to make sure the train was kept in safe running condition, too. The safety of the passengers depended on Mr. Thomas doing his work well.
Through the engine’s side window, Ted saw his father. “Hello, Father!”
Father turned and waved, smiling. Ted saw his gaze dart to Erik then back. His smile went away. “I’ll be with you in a minute,” he called.
Ted pushed his hands into the pockets of his brown knickers. He didn’t want Erik to see how nervous he was. What if his father was angry at him for being with Erik? Would he tell Erik to go away? He hoped not. Erik was a nice boy. Ted didn’t want his feelings or his pride hurt.
Ted could see his father was talking with another train worker. He turned to Erik. “Did you see the parade Wednesday?”
Erik nodded and laughed. “There wasn’t any reason to be anywhere else. I think all of Minneapolis and St. Paul were there.”
“My family and Emily’s were there, too. Wasn’t it great?”
“Sure was. What was your favorite part of the parade?” Erik asked.
“All the different kinds of transportation: the Indians with their horse-drawn drag, the voyageurs in their canoe, the dogsled, the Red River cart with its two large, solid wooden wheels—”
Erik’s laugh interrupted him. “Did you ever hear anything as awful as those wheels screeching? I bet when those carts crossed the prairie, you could hear them for miles.”
“The wheels could have used Mr. Thomas’s oilcan, that’s certain,” Ted agreed. “Let’s see, what came next? Oh, yes. The model of the first steamboat that came up the Mississippi. Then the prairie schooner with the two cows tied behind and the stovepipe sticking out the back.”
“My father remembers seeing them a lot when he was young,” Erik said. “He called them covered wagons.”
“My father, too. Then came the stagecoach.” Ted shook his head. “Hard to believe there are still parts of the country where people can’t travel on trains, isn’t it?”
“Must be awful slow traveling any other way,” Erik agreed.
Just then, Father came down from the engine to greet the boys.
“This is Erik Moe, Father,” Ted said. He clasped his hands behind his back, hoping they weren’t shaking. Would his father like Erik, or would he be rude to him? “Erik is the newsboy who helped Emily when she tripped on the trolley rails.”
“It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Kerr,” Erik said.
Father hesitated. His gaze seemed to study Erik’s face. Then he held out his large, calloused hand. “A pleasure to meet you, Erik. Your bravery saved my niece’s leg, if not her life.”
Erik shrugged, his shoulders lifting his worn, once-white shirt. “Anyone would have done the same, sir.”
Ted’s breath came out in a whoosh of relief.
Before Father could reply, a booming voice came from behind Ted and Erik. “Why, it’s Mr. Kerr, isn’t it? Charles Kerr.”
Ted turned around and looked at the man with the cheerful voice. The man was stout, with a chest that looked like a barrel covered by a fine, tailored suit jacket. The top of his head was bald, but the hair on the sides of his head was so long that it almost touched the collar of his double-breasted jacket. In one hand he held a stovepipe hat. A full, neatly trimmed beard and moustache covered his chin and lower face.
Ted’s jaw dropped. “James Hill!”
CHAPTER 5
Mr. Hill’s Story
Ted, mind your manners,” Father scolded in a low voice. Gulping, Ted closed his mouth.
Mr. Hill looked Ted in the eye. He held out his hand. “James Hill, it is. I came down to look over my trains. And you are?”
Ted shook his hand. “Ted … that is, Theodore Kerr, sir.” He knew that Mr. Hill lived in a grand house in St. Paul, but he certainly had never expected to meet the great man.
“Ah, then you must be Charles’s son.” Mr. Hill looked at Erik. “And is this another of your boys?”
Father shook his head. “No, sir. This is a friend of my son’s, Erik Moe.”
Mr. Hill shook hands solemnly with Erik then held out his hand to Father. “A pleasure to see you again. Glad to see you are working for my railroad now. You were working for another line years ago when we met.”
Ted swallowed his surprise. His father had never told him he’d met the famous railroad builder!
“I’m surprised you recall our meeting,” Father said. “It was many years ago.”
A smile gleamed in the midst of Mr. Hill’s graying mustache and beard. “Many years ago, but I always remember men who love the railroad as much as I do.”
Ted saw the pleasure in his father’s eyes. “I remember you took over your first railroad in 1879, only three years after I moved here from Cincinnati.”
Mr. Hill nodded. “Wonderful ye
ars, those were. Minneapolis wasn’t much more than a frontier town then. Only about 35,000 people. Now it’s a true city, with 167,000 people.”
Father smiled. “In large part due to the railroads and men of vision, such as yourself.”
“And men like you. Without good engineers and other railroad workers, my dreams could never have been realized.”
“My dad worked for a railroad,” Erik said. Ted glanced at him and saw his chin jut out in an angry, proud manner. “He was a brakeman. He lost his fingers, and now he’s out of work.”
Mr. Hill’s sharp eyes stared at Erik a minute. Then he rested a hand on Erik’s shoulder. “I’m sorry, son. Did he work for the Great Northern?”
“No.”
“Has he found other work?” Mr. Hill asked.
“No.”
Ted watched uneasily. How had Erik dared speak so angrily to such an important man? He watched Mr. Hill study Erik’s face. “Are you helping support the family then, Erik?” Erik crossed his arms over his chest and glared at Mr. Hill. “Yes. I had to quit school and find a job. I’m a newsboy. Some of us aren’t as lucky as you.”
Mr. Hill’s head jerked in surprise. “Lucky, is it? Don’t you know that luck is only another name for hard work? Let me tell you a little about my life. We’re not so different as you think.”
Erik snorted.
Ted swallowed a groan. Father was glaring at Erik. He would never let Ted be friends with Erik after this!
“I was born in Canada,” the great man began. “I went to school from the age of seven until I was fifteen. Then my father died, and I had to leave school.”
Surprise pushed the anger from Erik’s eyes. “I … I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”
Mr. Hill once again put a hand on Erik’s shoulder. “Never stop learning just because you’ve quit school. Over the years, I’ve gathered enough books to have my own library. And I listen to others who are more knowledgeable than I am.”
Erik nodded.
“I always loved travel,” Mr. Hill continued, “so when I was eighteen, I left home and came to St. Paul. There were no railroads crossing Minnesota then, but goods had to be taken between Winnipeg, Canada, on the Red River and St. Paul on the Mississippi River.”
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