Ido not always believe in happy endings, particularly in this city. But if all goes as promised, James Karagiannis will get what he wants, and Buffalo will be a better place for it.

By rights, he ought to get a plaque or a proclamation, because Karagiannis’ creative capitalism helped the city—in a small way—to open its arms to change.

Karagiannis is the sort of bright, eager guy that every dad hopes his daughter brings home for dinner. He went to school in Boston, worked at Disney and came home two years ago to be with his dying mother. While here, he got an idea.

“I just saw an opportunity for this,” he told me on a recent bright-sun afternoon. “A lot of smaller cities don’t have ice cream bikes. I thought there was a market here waiting to be taken.”

It is a classic Horatio Alger story of American ingenuity. He was building up his business, until Buffalo beat him down.

“I’ve been playing ‘store’ since I was seven years old,” he said. “I was the kid who went door-to-door selling stuff.”

Karagiannis a couple of years ago paid $3,500 for the custom-made “Worksman”—a bicycle fitted with a boxlike freezer that holds 400 ice cream bars. He rode around city, mostly the West Side to Elmwood to downtown, in search of folks with a craving for $1 Creamsicles and—on the high end—$2 Klondike Krunches.

This year, he expanded his mini-empire to three carts and eight vendors. On a normal work day, Karagiannis rides his ice cream bike—nearly 400 pounds when fully loaded—as much as 20 miles.

Success recently slammed into a pothole, as Karagiannis’ traveling brigade was barred from Delaware Park, turned away at Erie Basin Marina and denied at Thursday at the Square. Karagiannis was sideswiped by Buffalo’s archaic permit system, which requires costly special permits for different parts of the city. Karagiannis was exiled from a horde of popular places—a problem, since his profits depend on catering to a crowd.

It did not matter that folks liked the idea of a traveling ice cream vendor. It did not matter that he added the local color that any half-alive city prays for. It did not matter that he brings to the city more than he takes from it.

Buffalo—often its own worst enemy —was going to beat him down.

“It is not like I set up outside of ice cream stores,” said Karagiannis, a boyish 29. “The ice cream trucks go all over. Why can’t we? Kids love us. Parents love us.”

The city, however, did not love him.

We talked on Hertel Avenue. In 20 minutes, a half-dozen folks stopped to buy a frozen treat. All that was missing was a brass band and the American flag snapping in the breeze.

Given the limited product line and modest scope, I cannot see how Karagiannis is a threat to any brick-and-mortar business.

He brings to Buffalo something it did not have before. Downtown is struggling back to its feet, the waterfront shows signs of life, and some neighborhoods are reviving. The city ought to open the door to bicycle vendors—along with every juggler, Rollerblading guitar player, magician and street performer who adds life to the streets.

Maybe it will.

Mayoral spokesman Peter Cutler told me Wednesday there is a good chance the city will alter its permits to accommodate rolling vendors like Karagiannis.

“We’d rather encourage than discourage this sort of thing,” said Cutler. “It makes sense to show some flexibility, and this could be good for the city.”

All James Karagiannis wants is to sell ice cream. He may end up accomplishing a far greater feat—getting City Hall to chill out.