America 1929: John F. Kennedy, the Great Writer

Chapter 166 A Two-Pronged Approach

After the party, Arthur planned to head west immediately, but the sudden blizzard that night disrupted his plans.

The Great Plains of North America are indeed unsuitable for human habitation, as cold air from the north is unimpeded and can bring strong winds and blizzards at any time.

Fortunately, Russell Harrison's fortress was strong enough that neither administrative measures nor blizzards could get in.

At Russell's invitation, Arthur stayed here temporarily.

A suite on the second floor was used as Arthur's living room and studio.

He sat at the large mahogany desk, in front of him was the typing equipment Russell had prepared for him, which was much better than the one he had brought from New York.

However, he placed the two typewriters side by side on the table, seemingly intending to operate them simultaneously.

Russell Harrison walked in carrying two glasses of whiskey and placed one of them next to Arthur.

The Republican bigwig from Indiana raised an eyebrow as he looked at the throng in front of Arthur.

"A two-pronged approach? That's quite unusual."

Arthur picked up his glass, took a sip, and pointed to the machine on his left: "Business is here. Editors-in-chief of over four hundred newspapers across America are waiting like hungry dogs for something like 'The Courage to Face the Morning.'"

Such touching short stories.

"Those middle-class people on the verge of bankruptcy and low-level employees who can't afford their mortgages need me to continue giving them a placebo."

"They want to hear me say that everything will be alright," "They want to hear me say that a smile can change your luck," "They want to hear me say that suffering is a blessing from God in disguise."

"9

Russell chuckled. "It's very profitable. I heard from Isabella that the postal money orders they're receiving over there are piling up. Some media outlets are reporting that your article caused the country's suicide rate to drop by one percentage point this week."

"If we disregard political stances, you're practically a saint. The church should canonize you."

"Forget about canonization, just don't burn me to death." Arthur smiled.

He skillfully used his expertise as a "master of inspirational quotes" and completed a short essay of 1,000 words entitled "Embracing an Imperfect Life" in less than 20 minutes.

The article is full of comforting nonsense, with a perfectly closed logical loop, enough to give any person struggling in despair a temporary sense of peace.

This article will be sent to New York immediately via telegram.

After finishing this placebo, he turned to the Remington typewriter on his right, the machine used to write *The Grapes of Wrath*.

"The money I earn on the left will not only support my journey to the west, but also be used to promote this book on the right. I want to use the money from those who buy inspirational stories to print this poison that will completely awaken them and make them feel excruciating pain."

Arthur rolled a new sheet of paper into the Remington typewriter.

"Chairman Harrison, although you have won the hearing, it is only temporary. Wall Street will not give up. They will keep finding new agents, putting forward new proposals, and may even mislead some uninformed people."

"But what if, at this moment, the entire American public realized that the very interest group trying to impeach you was the very one that had driven them to ruin?"

"My view remains the same: only by awakening the people and getting them to fight can we truly achieve lasting victory and break free from the cyclical pattern of democratic politics."

Russell flipped through the first few chapters of the draft that Arthur had already written.

The title on it read: The Grapes of Wrath, Volume One: Wheat Fields and Mines.

Arthur skillfully stitches together the mining disasters he witnessed in the Alabacia Mountains with the agricultural plunder he witnessed on the Ohio Plains.

The main characters are "the Jod family".

The father, Tom, was changed from a parolee in the original story to a miner dismissed due to pneumoconiosis. He takes his family back to the Midwest to farm, only to be forcibly auctioned off by a bank.

Then they saw a job posting for California, a promised land supposedly overflowing with grapevines and flowing with milk and honey.

The family consists of more than a dozen people, including the resilient mother, the stubborn grandparents, and Tom's pregnant sister Rosaxia.

They crammed their remaining tattered belongings into a dilapidated truck, and with a sense of uncertainty and a sliver of hope for the future, decided to head west along Route 66.

This allows the book to directly impact two of the most affected groups in the United States: industrial workers and bankrupt farmers.

Arthur did not use any fancy rhetoric.

He wrote about how banks packaged and sold off debts, how land companies used legal provisions to drive illiterate old farmers to their deaths, and how uniformed agents, under the cover of the law, robbed a family more efficiently than bandits.

A bank is not just about people and tellers; it's a monster that needs profits to breathe.

In order to survive, it must devour your land, even if it doesn't want to.

The man on the tractor who demolished your house wasn't doing it because he hated you, but because the bank told him he'd get three dollars if he did.

This passage strips "evil" away from specific individuals and points it to the behemoth called "the system".

Russell looked at the manuscript, his expression gradually becoming serious.

"You're going to send this out? It doesn't name names, but every word is a slap in the face to Wall Street. Those bankers will be even more furious when they see this than when they see Jimmy Walker's resignation letter. You're declaring war on capital."

Without turning his head, Arthur said, "No, I'm just taking notes. Please don't let anyone bother me these next few days. Also, please give me enough coffee; this volume has 40,000 words. I hope to finish it within three days."

For the next three days, the sound of typewriters never stopped in the guest rooms of Harrison Estate.

Arthur was in a state of extremely excited calm.

He doesn't need rest or entertainment.

He poured all of Scranton's despair and the tears of the man in Dayton who was about to kick away the wooden crate at his feet into the printed words.

He used the most realistic depiction of life to construct tragedy.

He wrote about the tortoise crawling on the road, slowly and persistently moving towards the distance.

Write about the old grandmother who was tricked out of her last gold tooth by a denture dealer.

Four o'clock in the morning on the third day.

Arthur typed the last period of the first volume.

He finished his umpteenth cup of coffee and looked at the thick stack of manuscript paper.

The Jord family in the book has just lost their ranch in Oklahoma. They load all their belongings onto a dilapidated Hudson truck and prepare to migrate westward. Behind them, however, is a cloud of dust and their flattened home.

"This volume is merely a declaration of war."

Arthur exhaled a smoke ring, neatly arranged the manuscript paper, put it into a waterproof kraft paper bag, and sealed it with sealing wax.

Russell Harrison pushed open the door, holding a newly delivered morning paper. Seeing Arthur assembling the manuscript, he asked, "You're finally done? I'm looking forward to seeing if this bombshell you dropped will be even bigger than the one you caused in the state legislature."

"Of course. I'm sure I won't let you down."