America 1929: John F. Kennedy, the Great Writer

At noon on November 2, the Brooklyn Dockworkers Union office was packed with people.

Frank Scapen, the head of the federation, stood behind a table with a copy of the New York Daily in front of him. His face was flushed, and his fists were clenched tightly.

"Brothers, you've all seen it. These bastards are calling us a gang! They're saying we're colluding with some kind of literary trolls!"

An angry roar erupted in the office.

Scapen and the others quieted down and continued talking.

"Brothers, I've worked at the docks for thirty years. My father worked at the docks his whole life, and my son works there now. Three generations of the Scapen family have been honest dockworkers."

He paused for a moment, his gaze sweeping across the crowd, observing each person's reaction.

"But now, these old men sitting in their offices are using their pens to portray us as gangsters. They say we're 'notorious,' that we're 'drinking and laughing' with Kennedy or something."

"I'm asking you, who among you knows Kennedy?"

Silence fell over the office.

Scapen slammed his hand on the table.

"Nobody knows this! Because it's completely fabricated! This is a lie made up by the New York Daily News!"

"Why would they make up such a lie?" he asked in a low voice, then suddenly raised it.

"Because they want to suppress the person who wrote the article. But they can't find any real evidence, so they're using us dockworkers as scapegoats!"

"They thought we were easy to bully! They thought we wouldn't fight back!"

Scarpen's voice maintained a restrained passion.

"But let me tell you, we're not to be trifled with! We'll show them that dockworkers aren't gangsters; we're the backbone of this city!"

"We want them to know they can't slander us like that! We want them to pay the price!"

Applause and cheers erupted in the office once again.

"Yes! Make them pay the price!"

"We're going to the New York Daily News!"

"Get those bastards out here and explain!"

Scarpen raised his hand, signaling for everyone to be quiet.

"Brothers, we'll show them our anger. Now, all of you who are willing, follow me."

……

At 3 p.m., about two hundred dockworkers gathered in front of the New York Daily News building.

They were wearing work clothes and hats, and holding homemade signs.

The building's security guards tensed up immediately upon seeing so many people. They closed the main gate and stood inside, watching the outside warily.

Scarpen walked to the door and knocked on the glass. "We want to see your editor-in-chief!"

The security guard shook his head and pointed to the sign on the door.

"We're here to demand an explanation!" Scarpen raised his voice.

"Your newspapers called us a gang, that's slander! We demand an apology!"

The security guard shook his head again and picked up the phone.

The workers, witnessing this, began to stir. Some muttered curses, while others pushed forward.

Scapen turned to face the workers. His voice was loud and clear:

"I said, this is a peaceful demonstration! Remember our purpose!"

He didn't directly stop the commotion, but his gaze swept over several burly workers standing in the front row. The men exchanged a glance but didn't back down.

He turned to the security guards and continued, "We're not leaving. We'll stay here until your editor-in-chief comes out and gives us an explanation."

A few minutes later, a middle-aged man in a suit appeared inside. He was the deputy editor-in-chief of the New York Daily News.

He said to Scapen through the glass door:

"This is an illegal assembly. I have already called the police, and they will be here soon."

"An illegal assembly?" Scapen sneered.

"Isn't it illegal for you to slander us?"

"We did not slander anyone. We were simply reporting the facts."

"The facts?" Scapon held up the newspaper.

"You say we 'had drinks and chatted happily' with Kennedy, is that true? Do you have any evidence?"

"We have reliable sources."

"What's your source? Tell me!"

The deputy editor-in-chief remained silent.

Scapen's voice carried a triumphant air: "Can't say, can you? Because there's absolutely no source. You're just making it up!"

He did not give the deputy editor-in-chief another chance to speak.

"We just want an apology. A public apology in tomorrow's newspaper, admitting that you have slandered the dockworkers."

"That's impossible," the deputy editor-in-chief said.

That's exactly what Scapen was waiting for.

He slowly turned around to face the gathered workers and the growing crowd of onlookers. He raised the tin megaphone in his hand, and the sound amplified.

"Brothers! Everyone heard that! They refuse to apologize! They stick to those lies that slander us!"

The workers were noticeably more agitated.

Scapen stood on a makeshift wooden crate and continued his speech.

"We dockworkers have toiled and bled in this city for generations! We load and unload cargo, we build the port! Without us, this city cannot function!"

He pointed to the building:

"But those people, sitting in their clean offices with pens in hand, easily convicted us! They called us 'notorious'! They said we were colluding with thugs!"

A roar erupted from the crowd. Scapen paused at the opportune moment, allowing the anger to fester.

"This is a trampling of our dignity! An insult to our labor! Did they think that just because they closed the door and called the police, we'd be scared? That we'd just disperse?"

"No! We will show them our resolve! We will not back down! We must receive the respect and apology we deserve!"

As soon as he finished speaking, several voices in the crowd immediately shouted.

"Make them come out!" "Apologize!" "Or we won't leave!"

The onlookers began to whisper among themselves; some nodded, while others showed expressions of sympathy.

Seeing that the time was right, Scapon climbed down from the wooden crate and said to the workers:

"We'll wait here. We'll wait peacefully. We'll show them the backbone of the dockworkers."

However, when the workers sat down again, the atmosphere was different. Anger was building in the silence.

Scapen walked to the edge of the crowd and whispered a few words to a few workers who appeared to be leaders.

Time ticked by. Police appeared at the other end of the street, but did not approach immediately. This tense standoff made some workers anxious.

Suddenly, a stone flew out of nowhere and smashed into a glass window on the first floor of the New York Daily News building. The sound of shattering was particularly jarring.

The security guard exclaimed in surprise. The workers also stirred.

Scapen immediately stepped forward and shouted:

"Don't do it! Stay calm!" But his intervention seemed a beat too late.

Then, one or two more objects were thrown. The commotion escalated. Some workers stood up and surged forward, shouting. Security guards tried to stop them, but they were outnumbered.

Scapen stood there, watching the scene spiral out of control.

His face showed anxiety, and he kept shouting "Don't do this!" and "We are at peace!" but he didn't move his feet.

His gaze swept over the broken glass, over the excited crowd, and then quickly shifted to the depths of the building, as if waiting for something.

He picked up the megaphone, his voice filled with sorrow:

"Brothers! Listen to me! This is not what we should be doing! We want justice, not destruction!"

He stood firmly in a prominent position at the front of the crowd, making sure everyone could see the serious expression on his face and hear the correct words from his mouth.

As for the escalating chaos behind him, he seemed powerless to control it and could only feel heartbroken.