Alfonse Schaumburg, armed with only a wagon train, a mustache, and Prussian moxie, headed west in 1883 to seek his fortune. At the plot of land where Roselle and Schaumburg Road now intersect, he tugged the reins of his steeds and spat a mouthful of sauerkraut onto the prairie, declaring, “Someday Italians will swarm upon this place and sully it with tomato, bread, and cheese.” And it was so.
From humble beginnings, the town soon blossomed into a destination for entrepreneurs and adventurers. In 1892, Teddy Roosevelt set up mining operations and struck a large Jamba deposit, dancing a jig as the neon, sugary syrup rained down all around him. Capitalizing on his new venture, he shipped thousands of barrels of Spaniard blood back to the U.S. from Cuba in 1898 and created his patented drink “The Madrid Dandy,” a favorite of Mark Twain. Twain was later arrested in 1909, a year before his death, when he traveled to Catalonia and began biting everyone willy nilly.
In 1919, in the midst of the first Red Scare, city planners decided that “gathering places breed slander tongue” and proposed that the town adopt a policy of “sprawlification.” Created by Edmond Hammerkilt, sprawlification espoused a conviction that “legs are an outmoded vestige of the past…like those monkey tails we have at the business end of our spines.”
In 2003, a local businessman patented an American flag decal inset with yellow ribbons and then everyone died of diabetes and hypertension.