America 1929: John F. Kennedy, the Great Writer

Isabella stared at the copy of the New York Daily News on the table. She stared at the neatly printed type, over and over again.

"How dare they say that?"

Isabella pushed the statement toward Arthur, her fingertip pointing to the words "gangster connections" and "ambiguous relationship."

Arthur took the newspaper, glanced at it, and said, "I guessed it."

Isabella looked at him: "You guessed it? You guessed they would use this method?"

"I guessed they would retaliate. I just didn't expect it to be so quick and so direct. Hearst doesn't like others stealing his thunder."

Isabella asked somewhat anxiously, "Then what do we do? Can we issue a statement and clarify the facts?"

"How do you clarify this? Publish a statement saying I have no dealings with gangs? Or hold a press conference to show everyone how innocent I am? That will only make more people curious and spread the rumors faster. The more you try to explain, the more they'll think you're guilty."

Isabella fell silent. It wasn't that she didn't understand the principle; it was just that the suffocating feeling in her chest needed an outlet.

She was used to the rigid, methodical communication in legal matters, and this kind of slander left her somewhat bewildered.

"But we can't do nothing."

Arthur comforted him:

"It's alright, we'll continue writing our newspaper and printing our articles. That's what we should be doing. Let the facts speak for themselves, not try to deal with rumors with excuses."

Isabella hesitated for a moment:

"But... I received several calls today. They were all from people wanting to unsubscribe."

"How much was refunded?"

"About two hundred portions."

"Two hundred copies. What were our sales yesterday?"

"Fifteen thousand copies."

Arthur shrugged and said with a smile:

"That leaves 14,800 copies. This shows that most readers still trust us. Or rather, they care more about what we write than what others say about us."

Isabella didn't speak, but looked at Arthur with a somewhat melancholy gaze.

Arthur's voice was even gentler than before:

"Isabella, you have to understand, we can't make everyone believe us. There will always be people who believe the New York Daily, and there will always be people who think we're liars. That's normal."

"But that doesn't matter?"

Arthur nodded. "That's not important. What's important is that we stick to what we believe in."

"I'm scared," Isabella said. She rarely expressed her fear so directly.

"I'm afraid you'll get hurt. These accusations... can ruin a person's reputation. In the future, when people mention Arthur Kennedy, they might not think of your articles first, but these rumors."

"I won't be destroyed; I've been through worse."

Arthur comforted Isabella, thinking to himself what he hadn't said aloud: Compared to the internet, what are attacks in the newspapers?

Arthur continued:

"Moreover, the fact that The New York Daily did this proves that our articles were effective. If no one read or cared about our articles, they wouldn't have bothered with this effort. The more they attack us, the more it shows that we've hit the nail on the head. They're scared."

Isabella thought about it and agreed. She wiped her eyes, which were a little wet at some point.

"So what do we do next?"

"Keep writing. I've already thought of my next piece. It'll be about journalistic ethics. It'll be about how so-called objectivity and fairness become a business. It'll be about how those self-proclaimed highly respected commentators sell their conscience by weight."

As Isabella listened, a smile gradually appeared on her face.

"Are you going to fight back against them?"

Arthur corrected:

"To be precise, it's an exposure. The New York Daily thought they could use this tactic to bring us down. But in fact, every attack they launch provides us with new material. Every smear campaign they launch proves what they're afraid of."

Isabella nodded. She picked up the copy of the New York Daily News from the table, folded it in half, then in half again, and threw it into the wastebasket.

……

In a Brooklyn bar at dusk.

Several dockworkers sat around a wooden table with beer in front of them. The air smelled of smoke, sweat, and the sourness of whiskey.

A young worker said, "Have you heard? That honest man who wrote the article, the newspaper says he's from our dock."

The older workers said, "Bullshit. I've worked at the docks for so long and I've never seen any Kennedy. I know everyone here by name."

His name is Mike, and he worked at the docks for twelve years.

"But the newspapers wrote it in great detail. They said he often came to the docks and met with some gang members."

"O'Reilly?" Mike snorted.

"I saw it. I recognized Patrick O'Reilly in the photo immediately. All he does is work and support five kids. His brother Sean is in the union, but a union is a union, and a gang is a gang. What are the newspapers saying about us dockworkers? That we're all criminals?"

Another worker chimed in. His name was Joe, and he had a small piece missing from one of his ears, which he had gotten from a cargo box slipping and hitting him a few years ago.

"Those big newspapers love to write nonsense. Last time we asked for a pay rise and went on strike, they said we were instigated by gangsters. What's the truth? We just wanted more money so our children could have enough to eat."

The young worker scratched his head.

"So you think that honest guy who wrote the article isn't a member of the gang?"

"Of course not. Think about it. If he were a gangster, would he write those articles? Would he satirize the city hall? Gangsters don't care whether the mayor is doing a good job or not. They'd rather those old men in the city hall be in meetings all the time, ignore them, and not do any real work."

"Why did the New York Daily News say that?"

"Why?" Joe took a big gulp of beer.

"Because that honest man writes well, many people like to read his articles. He wrote a small newspaper that outshone the big newspapers. The big newspapers lost face, so they had to find ways to take him down. If they couldn't bring down his articles, they would try to take down his character. It's an old trick."

Mike nodded.

"None of these big newspapers are any good. They only care about how to make money and how to please those office workers. In their eyes, we laborers are no better than rats on the docks. No one would even give us a second glance if we died."

"That's right," the other workers chimed in.

Mike raised his glass. "If you ask me, whoever Kennedy is, as long as he dares to speak the truth and criticize those who deserve it, we should support him. These days, there aren't many people who speak the truth."

"Yes!" the workers raised their glasses.

"Cheers to honest men!"