Joe Larrabee came out of the post-oak flats of the Middle West
pulsing with a genius for pictorial art. At six he drew a picture
of the town pump with a prominent citizen passing it hastily. This
effort was framed and hung in the drug store window by the side of
the ear of corn with an uneven number of rows. At twenty he left for
New York with a flowing necktie and a capital tied up somewhat
closer.