Edward had always been a major disappointment. Despite all his efforts Samuel was never able to connect with his eldest son. He had given him every opportunity to grow into the family businesses. But Edward was content to be a professional student and live off of his father’s generosity. Edward ended up attending USC Berkeley where he fell in with the Socialist crowd of academia elitists. After paying for Edward’s degrees in such nonsense as 18th century French literature Samuel finally pulled the plug on Edward’s education spending. When the money stopped Edward cut ties with his family and began drifting aimlessly in and out of various business ventures. His lack of initiative and total failure to follow through on any level would become his hallmark.It was not surprising therefore, that Edward would renege on his commitment to help the Binghams. Samuel was struck by the contrast between his ne’er-do-well son and this proud Englishman, Harold Bingham, who had sacrificed so much to give his family a fresh start in this foreign land. “I still have time to make this right” Samuel said to himself. His jaw tightened as he began to plan his next moves for his granddaughter and her family.
Time passed quickly as the mighty locomotive churned through the Colorado plains. The conductor came through the passengers to announce that afternoon tea was being served in the dining car. A wonderful array of fresh fruits and finger sandwiches greeted the family as they took their place in line behind numerous other passengers. Linen tablecloths and napkins were neatly placed at each table. This was a far cry from the cold sandwiches eaten at their seats on the train from Chicago. The boys seemed oblivious to all the finery around them, but Harold and Ida knew this was just a hint of things to come.
At about 3:15 P.M. the conductor came through the passenger cars to announce their pending arrival in Denver. All passengers traveling through to San Francisco please remain seated. Harold realized that California was not going to be their destination any time soon, and that seemed to suit him just fine. Fifteen minutes later the shrill steam whistle signaled their entrance to the terminal in Denver. The big locomotive crawled to a stop, lining up perfectly to the marks on the station platform. With a huge sigh the grand old lady let out the last remnants of steam from her boilers. Quietly and majestically she would wait for the next leg of her journey Westward.
