When Phineas T. Barnum was
mayor of Bridgeport, he and
Tom Thumb spawned a few shrewd
real estate transfers. They snapped
up residential land across the river,
vetoed a bridge, then made a killing
in the ferry business. Not the show
he’d hoped for, but still, a splashy toehold.
The aldermen cried foul, threatened
to ruin P.T., his partner, and all their
unborn bastards. The board of the American
Museum rounded up the trustees
who had not yet skipped down.
Pawning the waterway’s Christmas
turkey, in a quandary by the Sound,
Barnum shored up moxie from his
placards by the railed of the New York,
New Haven & Hartford. A magnificent
leonine necessity drove him that night,
as the trivia of His Honor, potholes
and office seekers, did not. Quarry
for a new year, The Lake Shore Limited.