America 1929: John F. Kennedy, the Great Writer

Chapter 167 Theodore Roosevelt's Favor

Arthur Kennedy drove the Ford pickup truck through the empty city streets toward Union Station.

The manuscript is finished, but how to get it out is a big problem.

Arthur knew very well that those behind the financial blockade would be resentful after he used the "chicken soup for the soul" strategy to break through it.

After all, one learns from one's mistakes, and one cannot completely assume that the other party is a fool.

Although he pressured the Department of Justice through the Supreme Court to ensure that he wouldn't be taken down by federal agencies, they were still watching his packages and could easily tamper with them.

Small packages, or even some money orders, may not matter, but large packages sent to the New York Herald will definitely attract their attention.

If it were to go through the official postal channels, this manuscript would most likely be "accidentally damaged" at some sorting center, or end up on some official's desk.

While federal agencies cannot openly seize ordinary mail, they have a hundred ways to make such obviously large shipments disappear.

In this way, these bureaucratic institutions, whose primary standard is to protect the interests of capital and the powerful, can preserve their reputation and their jobs.

But in doing so, Arthur's hard work was ruined.

Arthur cannot take this risk.

He tucked the brown paper bag into his coat pocket, while Alice Roosevelt's little black notebook, which had been given to him in Washington, sat on the passenger seat.

This list is his true passport in this era.

Union Station in Indianapolis is a Midwestern rail hub. Under its massive steel dome, steam locomotives puff out white smoke, and the air is filled with a mixture of soot, engine oil, and animal manure.

Arthur didn't go to the ticket office; instead, he went straight into the depths of the freight platform, avoiding the uniformed railway police.

Beside a heavy freight train bound for New York, several railroad workers in overalls were smoking. Most of them looked tired, their faces greasy, and their eyes showed wariness towards strangers.

"Who is Bill McCoy?" Arthur stepped forward and asked.

The workers immediately stopped talking. One of them, a burly man with a full beard, threw away his cigarette butt and instinctively reached for a large adjustable wrench at his waist.

"I am. Who are you? The company's foreman? Or Pinkerton's lackey?"

Bill McCoy was a key member of the New York State Railroad union and also the train conductor of this train.

Before coming, Arthur specifically checked the train schedule at the train station to confirm that today was the only day in the past week that Bill McCoy's train would be here.

Without a word, Arthur took out the small black notebook from inside his coat, opened the cover, and revealed the unique stamp with a teddy bear pattern.

The Teddy Bear was created to commemorate a bear cub that Theodore Roosevelt released into the wild.

Then he read out the name that Alice had noted on the list.

"Alice Roosevelt told me that President Theodore Roosevelt saved the job of a train conductor named McCoy during the mediation of the anthracite strike in 1902, right?"

As Arthur expected, Bill McCoy's expression changed.

In 1902, capitalists deliberately instigated a major strike by coal miners in an attempt to force the government to compromise. Theodore Roosevelt directly revealed his trump card: threatening to send 12,000 American troops to take over the mines and force the owners to accept an eight-hour workday and a 10% pay increase.

This battle completely subdued American capitalists and enabled the antitrust law to be truly implemented.

Then in 1904, with the support of the people, Theodore Roosevelt used the big stick to break up the railroad trust.

Therefore, manipulating capitalists is a traditional skill of the Roosevelt family.

Railroad workers and miners of that era regarded Theodore Roosevelt as the only saint who spoke up for them. That gratitude was sacred in the hearts of the older generation of union members.

"That's my father." Bill's voice lowered, and the hostility in his eyes subsided.

"What are your orders, sir?"

"It's not an order, it's a request for help."

Arthur handed over the brown paper bag he was carrying.

"Here's a manuscript. Evidence of how Wall Street seized farmers' land, the truth about how miners died underground. There's a group of federal agents watching the post office, and I need it to get to New York safely."

Bill took the paper bag and weighed it in his hand.

He didn't ask what was written inside.

For those who spend their lives on the railway, smuggling goods is as commonplace as breathing.

Not to mention what Arthur said, which he also paid close attention to.

After all, he saw homeless people huddled on the roofs of trains every day, and children beaten bloody by railway police.

He knew the country was sick, but he was powerless to change it.

"I'm happy to transport anything that will cause trouble for those vampires."

Bill stuffed the paper bag inside his heavy wool coat, close to his chest.

"This train goes directly to Grand Central Terminal in New York. I have a nephew who unloads goods at the station; he's a union member. He'll deliver it to where you need it."

"Send it to the New York Herald office in Brooklyn. Give it to Isabella Harrison."

Arthur took out a hundred dollars from his pocket and tried to give it to Bill.

Bill simply refused the money.

"Put your money away, Mr. Kennedy. I may be a rough man, but I do read newspapers. I know who you are."

C

Bill pointed to Arthur's Ford pickup truck.

In the past few days, newspapers in Maryland and Ohio have been publishing news about Arthur, and his pickup truck has begun to become famous in the surrounding area.

"You're the guy who wrote 'Sixteen Tons.' We read that article in the break room. If this book can really expose those bankers' dirty secrets, I'd pay for the coal myself."

Bilton paused, then added, "And it would be even better if you could let those gentlemen in Washington know that we railroad workers have backbone too, and that strikes are no joke."

The whistle sounded, piercing and long.

The train began to move slowly, its huge wheels grinding against the rails with a dull rumble.

Arthur stood on the platform, watching Bill jump onto the guard car, the one at the back of the train specifically for the train crew to rest. Bill stood at the back and waved his signal light at Arthur.

In this country, the powerful and wealthy have telephone lines, private jets, and BOI surveillance networks.

But at the grassroots level, there are railroads, truck drivers, and an ubiquitous network of unions.

Alice Roosevelt gave Arthur more than just a list; she gave him a key—a key that could unlock the nation's underground vascular system.

This is an "underground railway" built on human relationships and morality.

As long as this train doesn't derail, this textual bomb will explode right on time in Wall Street's backyard.