The Magic Wire

The American Trail. The Magic Wire. Washington, D.C., the night of March 2nd, 1844.

The shabby figure moves away from the shadows of the Senate Building. It doesn't matter much who he is, some crackpot that would be inventor. You see all kinds in Washington. Camp, you want a camp, Mr.?

Thank you, no. Well, what? What about the professor? You're not sociable, Professor. Say, is it right you want the Congress to give you $30,000 to approve your invention works? Don't tell me they're not going to give you the money.

Take care of the hope. A man to be laughed at is a big joke around Washington. Morse. Professor Samuel Finley-Breece Morse invented something he calls the telegraph, and nobody seems to care. The Senators, congressmen 12 years of talking to them.

They know my telegraph works. They've seen it work from one room to another. Why won't they believe it'll work over a long distance? Why won't they let me have the money to prove it? It's for the country's benefit.

Well, if he didn't get the money appropriated tonight, he may as well give up. Congress adjourns tonight, so the man's come home. Or what he's called home for several months. A big white colonial type house belongs to a government official who went to school with Mort.

Commissioner of Patents, Elsworth. Mortis has been a house getter for several months. A big square for you. The winding staircase. Rich carpet. Good painting. The professor walks upstairs. His room is on the second floor.

Well, it's a room. Four walls. Wash them. Writing desks. Everything in very good taste. Besides, a man has to live somewhere. A cheap lodging house. A park bench. Or the hospitality of a friend. Call it charity.