... That's nothing: Ben Franklin

… That's nothing compared to the international melee between Philadelphia, Boston, and to a lesser extent; Paris in making claim to Ben Franklin. There were offers of tax abatements and gorgeous books; fantastical developments of screw conveyors and fountains; one city even allowed that he could tinker with local time as suited him.

The disorienting phenomenon called the “Bermuda Triangle” was torn from its moorings at its still-suspected longitude and latitude, and resituated over Cambridge, Massachusetts in misjudged attempt to improve the kite-flying conditions in nearby environs.

I myself reviewed numerous drafts concerning provisions for firehouses, pumper trucks, ladder trucks, excessive carrillons beyond the acoustical acuity of any ear, swim tanks in which he might test various mounts and strappings of fins and webbing and “electrocution salons;” any manner of constructions that might appeal to Mr. Franklin’s tastes. I was quite aware, myself, that the man hated to be bested, and that it was wise to present him with hints, such that he would not be surprised by the blueprints, but believe that he had ordered the drawings himself.

So, it was a delicate balance. All work-for-hire arrangements can be kind of dicey this way: Does the cost of security have to be a grating constant denial of value? I pace myself. An eighth-grade health teacher was explaining it to us once: “There’s VOCATION and there’s AH-VOCATION; one you do for money and the other you do for fun, like a hobby, and you don’t expect to be paid for it.”

“So does that mean you’d rather not be teaching here, and no one can expect to make a worthwhile living at what they enjoy?” comes from nowhere.

The nights in the Northern Liberties were filled with the wheezing of bellows and the clanking of non-stop bottling of ale. Days were filled with delighted, excited chatter about new things coming to be, “An order that shew up after closing time, this contraption that I couldn’t help but make up right away to see if it were even possible,” and “Why had it not existed before.” Certainly haste is required in the rectification of the world’s deficit. In truth, those are the only times I feel alive, when some of the gaps are filled in, and I can see a little progress is being made. The boredom of otherwise is painful.

I devised a cipher of several concentric wheels of paper, every manner of material and endeavor and method and individual I knew about town recorded on the outer perimeter of each that I could continue coming up with inventions to stay ahead of the competing burghs. Thus I could turn the wheels a few clicks until I found an intriguing combination, and tell it to one of the girls, who would whisper it to Franklin. I would rather take my inspiration from watching the work of carpenters or blacksmiths, wandering the hardware stores, seeing power looms and printing presses in motion, but I was less and less able to take time from the city office.

We had a series of spies on horseback along the stage road and working on the docks and custom-house that went through the crates and mail packets, kept me informed of our rival’s correspondence and gifts, and arranged the forgery of return letters.