The Waynes continued to prosper with the growing Gotham City. They continued to have their share of heroic military officers, among them Captain Forrester Wayne, who fought so bravely in the War of 1812 that he was offered command of the U.S.S. Constitution. He turned it down, having seen enough bloodshed during the war, and retired to civilian life. There he busied himself studying naval battles. He was a brilliant strategic thinker and, at the conclusion of his studies, wrote a small pamphlet entitled simply A Dissertation on Tactics that is still taught at Annapolis today. There was a General Horatio Wayne who fought in the Civil War, but subsequent generations took more pride in Caleb and Annabelle Wayne, a husband and wife whose daring work with the Underground Railroad spirited hundreds of runaway slaves to safety in Canada before the likes of Horatio ever thought about going to war for them. The country was changing, and leadership became more about industry and invention than war. In 1866, wanting to make a gesture after the Civil War and encourage the battered Southern economy, Bruce Andrew Wayne, an architect, purchased enormous quantities of Georgia pine, and put returning soldiers to work on a myriad of projects, including construction of the first Wayne Office Building in downtown Gotham, an observatory which is now the planetarium in Robinson Park, the Knickerbocker Keystone Club, and a renovation of Wayne Manor 3 . Other Waynes distinguished themselves in various ways: there was a cabinet minister, two diplomats, a director of the National Gallery, and a frontier scout –although the family doesn’t put much stock in those Waynes who ventured outside of Gotham to make their mark. Rather, they honored with portraits in the Great Hall ancestors like Lawrence Wayne, a gentleman inventor whose prolific catalog of gadgets and processes rivaled those of Edison’s. Yet he remains unknown because his parents thought fame unseemly, and so forced him to patent his inventions under assumed names. Lawrence was also good friends with another innovator, one Robert Fulton, and saw the potential in Fulton’s steam‐powered inventions while others, including the French British and US Governments, labeled them “Fulton’s folly.” Perfecting a design for a paddle‐wheeled steamboat, Wayne obtained for himself an absolute monopoly to operate as‐yet unheard of vessels called steamships in the waters surrounding Gotham. Wayne’s boat was christened The Flying Fox. She made her maiden voyage out of Gotham Harbor before a great crowd of onlookers. They’d come to gawk at the vessel, amazed that such a contraption with a 16‐foot paddlewheel would even stay upright in the water. They twittered with nervous anticipation once the craft set off, expecting a spectacular mid‐river explosion once it built up a full head of steam. Instead, they saw her slide smoothly out of her dock, move upriver against the tide at a brisk pace, and disappear on the horizon. 32‐hours later word arrived that The Flying Fox safely reached the state capital. Soon the boat was operating on a regular ferry service between the two cities.