...because he was. Old fashions to him, were simply "fashions". As sole proprietor to his small-town empire of dry goods and ice transport, Mr. Thistleton was indeed a rakish chap. He preferred high-sleeved jackets and waistcoats. A bit more flattering, and very forward for the time. His club collared shirt was his chosen aesthetic, as the Arrow Collars of the day were by far too popular. "Well-made of course, but it is merely a phase," he would say to his tailor. The pocket watch he inherited from Woodard Thistleton I, his father, reminded him often that although we created the clock, the clock now dictated our very lives. Time is money, and money is power. Power was merely a byproduct of being the busiest entrepreneur in town. It did have its benefits: that of keeping the finest restaurants' fine foods chilled with his ice and all; the best table in the house was left empty had he wanted to stop in. A tragic accident in his warehouse would leave him no heirs, and a mourning sister. Yet the Thistleton name would live on as a trusted name in the Bird Feed and refrigeration industries, ensuring that history would not forget such a devoted worker.
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