America 1929: John F. Kennedy, the Great Writer

Chapter 104 Next, it's your turn (Available for purchase on 9/10)

3 PM.

Arthur Kennedy has finally shown up.

He was wrapped in a thick wool coat and held the new key to the building in his hand.

The key gleamed golden in the sunlight, like some kind of trophy.

He first went to the printing plant in Brooklyn.

That was the heart of the New York Daily News. Inside the enormous factory, a dozen massive black rotary printing presses lay silently, like a group of sleeping steel behemoths.

Previously, these behemoths would spit out dozens of tons of paper every day, and the newspapers they printed were full of lies, incitement, and attacks on Arthur.

And now, they belong to him.

The printing factory workers had not yet been dismissed. They stood nervously beside the machines, watching the legendary young man who had "killed Hearst with a pen."

They were afraid of losing their jobs and afraid of retaliation.

After all, they had printed those articles that attacked Arthur.

Arthur walked up to a machine and reached out to touch the cold rollers. The rollers still smelled of ink—the smell of news, and the smell of power.

He exclaimed, his voice echoing in the empty factory: "Great machine. German-made, the latest model from 1928. It's such a waste to let it go to waste."

He turned around and looked at the tense workers.

Arthur's voice was calm yet firm: "I know what you're worried about. Do you think I'll fire you? Or replace you with my own people?"

The workers looked at each other, none of them daring to speak.

Arthur smiled and said, "No, I won't. The machine is innocent, and so are the people who operate it. As long as your skills remain, and as long as you are willing to print the truth, there will always be a place for you here."

A commotion arose from the crowd, a mixture of barely suppressed joy and a sigh of relief.

An elderly worker with gray hair came out. He had worked at the printing factory for twenty years and was the most senior worker there.

The old worker's voice trembled slightly: "Mr. Kennedy, we—we used to print those articles that criticized you. You really don't blame us?"

Arthur walked up to the old worker and patted him on the shoulder.

Arthur said, "You were just doing your job. The fault doesn't lie with you, it's with the person who gave the order. And that person is now paying the price."

The old worker's eyes reddened.

Arthur added, "And starting tomorrow, this machine will be printing something new. We're going to print additional volumes of *Of Mice and Men*, and a supplement to the *New York Herald*. We're going to turn this place into the biggest truth factory in all of New York."

A young worker mustered up his courage and asked, "What about my wages?"

Arthur said, "Don't worry, it will only be higher than before. Because printing the truth is more tiring than printing lies. The truth requires more paper, more ink, and more courage."

A cheer erupted from inside the factory.

The workers, who had been anxious, now looked at Arthur as if he were their savior.

Arthur clapped his hands. "Get to work, guys! Don't let the machines cool down. We need to let all of New York know that this ship has a new captain!"

At Arthur's command, the massive rotary machine began to roar.

The sound was no longer harsh; instead, it sounded like a victory salute.

Arthur stood on the vibrating floor, feeling the power of the industrial age.

He won.

He not only defeated Hearst in the war of words, but also took control of his arsenal. Now, he has not only a pen in his hands, but also a megaphone capable of amplifying his voice tens of thousands of times.

It was evening.

Arthur finally arrived at the headquarters of the New York Daily News.

This twelve-story building was once a landmark in New York's press. Countless journalists dreamed of working here, and countless politicians feared the voices emanating from it.

But now, it belongs to Arthur.

He walked into the hall. The once arrogant doorman saw him and immediately stood up straight, saying respectfully, "Mr. Kennedy, welcome home."

Come back home.

What an ironic statement.

Arthur smiled and stepped into the elevator.

The elevator slowly ascended, passing through floor after floor. Each floor had once been the office area of ​​a department of the New York Daily News.

Now, these offices are empty, with only some abandoned desks and chairs and scattered documents remaining.

The elevator stopped at the top floor.

That's the floor where the boss's office is located.

Arthur pushed open the heavy mahogany door.

Hearst has been gone for a long time, but his presence still lingers in the office.

The smell of cigar smoke, the smell of whiskey, and a uniquely despairing scent of a loser.

Arthur walked behind the huge mahogany desk and sat down.

This chair is very comfortable; it's made of genuine leather and is said to be imported from Italy.

He spun his chair around and looked out the window at New York.

As the sun set, the entire city was bathed in a golden-red hue. From this angle, the spire of the City Hall was clearly visible. There, Jimmy Walker was still making his final struggle.

Arthur picked up the phone on the table and dialed the number for the New York Herald.

"Isabella, it's me."

Isabella's voice held a hint of amusement: "How is it? How do you feel?"

Arthur looked at the photos of Hearst on the wall and a smile crept onto his lips: "It feels like sitting on the enemy's throne, wielding the enemy's sword, ready to cut off the heads of the enemy's allies."

"That felt really good."

Arthur continued, "By the way, I'm going to write a feature article for tomorrow's front page. The title will be 'A New Beginning.' It will tell everyone that from today onwards, the printing presses of the *New York Daily News* will serve the truth."

Isabella paused. "I'll arrange it. Arthur, you know what? All over New York is saying you're David the one who killed the giant with your pen."

Arthur laughed: "David? No, I am not David. David merely killed Goliath. But I not only killed him, I skinned him and donned his armor."

After hanging up the phone, Arthur stood up and walked to the window.

Downstairs, citizens had already gathered. They had heard the news of the change of ownership of the New York Daily and had come specifically to see it.

When they saw Arthur appear at the window, a cheer erupted from the crowd.

"Janette! Kennedy!"

The sound was deafening, sweeping across the entire street like a tsunami.

Arthur opened the window and waved down.

The cheers grew even louder.

Some held up copies of the New York Daily News with the apology printed on them, some wore white rabbit badges, and others simply held up a sign that read: "Coley is dead, Lenny won!"

As Arthur watched this scene, an indescribable emotion welled up within him.

This is not just the joy of victory, but also a sense of mission.

Arthur looked towards the city hall, his gaze turning cold: "Next, it's your turn, Jimmy."