Evening Republican, Volume 17, Number 239, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 7 October 1913 — HAPPENINGS IN THE CITIES [ARTICLE+ILLUSTRATION]

HAPPENINGS IN THE CITIES

Chicago “Owls” Blink at First Broadway Car

CHICAGO. —Chicago’s first Broadway car ran through the loop district the other night, through the La Salle street tunnel, up Clark street, and out Broadway. It was the first evidence of the city’s 567 varieties of new street names.

The car, with no sign save the unwonted "Broadway” displayed, swung around the loop at the alcoholic hour of 11:30, just when the most people wanted a car.

"Say, now, where’d ' that come from?” demanded one night owl of another on the curb, as No. 219 trundled by. "Lived here all my life an* didn’t know we had a Broadway, let alone a car line on it." Nobody could tell him. Down Randolph street rumbled the "Broadway” apparition, and drew up In front of the Lambs* case just as two chorus girls emerged. "Ain’t this luck, Lil!” exclaimed one as they peeled their hobbles just high enough to allow them to reach the step. "The way I remembered it we’d have to beat It two blocks to a car, an* here’s one right at the door. Cal)

us at One Hundred and Nineteenth street, conductor.” Serene in their belief that they were headed for home, they settled down for a talk. "W|ll this car take me to Evanston avenue?” inquired a ptecfse individual as he held back his nickel and eyed the conductor suspiciously. "Yes, sir." "But how can a car take mw where I want to go when it runs on a street I never heard of? And I’ve lived on Evanston avenue many years,” All the way out the precise gentleman debated with himself where that car would land him. But there were many voyagers who did not intrust themselves to the pi-ratical-looking craft flying such strange colors. “Say! Where does that thing go?" asked one of these from the curb. “Where do you want to go?" “Evanston avenue.” “Come along—this car’ll'take you.” “Not me. Only got one nickel, an’ no strange car don’t git that” And the cautious one sheered off until he could find a car with a familiar sign. Many, thinking they recognized something familiar about the car or crew or both, came ent into the street, looked doubtfully at the unfamiliar “Broadway," and, looking like victims of misplaced confidence, stepped back to the curb to wait for the genuine blown-in-the-bottle Evanston car. Nothing less would satisfy them.