America 1929: John F. Kennedy, the Great Writer

At 6:30 a.m., Arthur was awakened by the sound of horses' hooves and the roar of trucks coming from the streets downstairs.

His rented apartment was located in Brooklyn, in a neighborhood that wasn't very nice.

On the morning of October 23, sunlight streamed through the tattered curtains, making Arthur Kennedy's rented room, which was less than ten square meters, look like a dusty steamer.

Arthur rolled over and sat up on the creaky single bed, his first instinct being to reach for his wallet under the pillow.

Just like a few days ago, not many coins grew out of it on their own.

"If that old fox Hearst doesn't take a liking to my manuscript, I'll probably be studying hydrodynamics on the Hudson River tonight."

As Arthur grumbled, he skillfully slipped on the cheap suit with its worn-out collar.

As I walked out of Mrs. Dalton's apartment, the landlady was waiting at the door with a broom in hand.

"Mr. Kennedy, if you come home from get off work without bringing back the rent, I'll have to ask you and your luggage to have a chat with the homeless in Central Park about life."

"Don't worry, Mrs. Dalton, New York will treat me kindly today."

Mrs. Dalton let out a short, sharp snort through her nose.

"That would be best, young man. God help you conjure up some greenbacks today."

She stepped aside, making room for Arthur to pass through.

Arthur flashed a standard social smile, ignored Mrs. Dalton's grumbling, and strode toward the tram next to the apartment.

The tram was packed with all sorts of people in the early morning, and a pungent smell filled the air.

Arthur casually found a handrail to stand on and scanned the carriage with his eyes.

Suddenly, his gaze froze.

A middle-aged, overweight businessman sitting directly in front of him was holding a copy of the day's New York Daily and clicking his tongue in amazement.

Directly opposite the fat man, a young employee who looked like he had just entered the workforce was also peeking out.

"Look at this, buddy."

The portly businessman pointed at the entire financial section, speaking so loudly that the whole carriage could hear him.

"Van Dyke's Stock Market Notes. Author: Honest Man of Wall Street. Hey, what a despicable title, it's practically mockery."

My article was actually selected? And it even took up a whole page?

Arthur followed the other person's finger and saw that, sure enough, every word he had typed last night was now neatly printed on the lead type.

"I just read half of it, and the writing is truly scathing."

The young employee adjusted his glasses:

"That guy named Van Dyke is exactly like my uncle. My uncle was just yesterday yelling that he was going to mortgage the family laundromat and go all in on radio stock."

However, in another corner of the carriage, a man dressed in a well-tailored tweed suit snorted coldly:

"This is alarmist! This 'honest man' is probably some loser who lost everything in the stock market. President Hoover and Harvard professors have both said that the fundamentals are rock solid. This kind of cheap, low-brow literature is only good for fooling cowards like you."

"Hey, you can't say that."

The portly businessman retorted, "I think this author is definitely an expert among experts."

"Expert my foot!" the man in the tweed suit scoffed. "The real experts are drinking champagne in the Fifth Avenue clubs. I bet this author is just trying to create a big story to scam some money. If someone like that could predict the future, I'd eat this whole newspaper on the spot!"

Dude, this kind of "setting a flag" behavior usually doesn't last more than three episodes in movies.

Arthur silently complained in his heart, but put on a curious and slightly surprised expression on his face, and went over like an enthusiastic passerby.

"Excuse me, gentlemen."

Arthur gripped the pull tab, his expression one of shock as if he had just finished reading the newspaper.

"You guys are reading that 'Honest Man' article too? To be honest, I heard a bunch of people arguing about it on the platform just now. This article... it really does send chills down your spine, don't you think?"

The portly businessman, seeing a kindred spirit had appeared, quickly nodded: "Isn't that right? Young man. You also think this author is extraordinary?"

Arthur smoothly took over the conversation, like a passerby seeing the manuscript for the first time:

"I just think the writing style is too sophisticated."

The young employee's eyes lit up:

"Yes, yes, yes! I also think this person must be a reclusive top genius. Maybe he's some billionaire who has seen through the world's illusions, deliberately hiding his identity to warn the world. This kind of sentiment is simply a lone hero in all of New York!"

Arthur was already laughing so hard inside that he had to use the swaying of the tram as it turned a corner to hide his expression.

This generation of readers' imaginations far exceeded his expectations! A billionaire? A lone hero? Arthur himself wouldn't even dare to dream of such a thing.

"How is that possible!"

The man in the tweed suit remained disdainful.

"Genius? Hero? I think he's just a cowardly thief who doesn't even dare to write his real name!"

"You just don't understand."

The fat businessman initiated in-depth analysis mode:

"How could such a big shot use his real name? 'The Honest Man of Wall Street' means he's in the inner circle of Wall Street, maybe even sitting on the board of Morgan or Goldman Sachs! He wrote it sarcastically, but he's actually sending out a distress signal!"

"This gentleman's analysis is extremely insightful."

Arthur, standing nearby, gave a timely look of admiration and earnestly echoed his sentiments.

"After hearing what you said, I also think that this author must have a very deep background. If he is really in a high position and is willing to take the risk to write such a truth, then his character... is something that a nobody like me can only look up to."

"Of course!"

The fat businessman was getting a little carried away by Arthur's "adoration".

"A person who can write something like this is definitely a rare clear-headed individual in this era, a beacon in the fog! If I'm lucky enough to bump into him on the street or in a coffee shop someday, I'll definitely treat him to the most expensive coffee in the best coffee shop in Manhattan! I'll ask him for his advice!"

"Me too! I want to meet him too!" the young employee exclaimed excitedly.

Arthur nodded repeatedly, and said softly in a tone filled with deep emotion:

"Yes, I really want to meet this 'beacon' in person. It's a pity that people of our status can probably only admire his thoughts in the newspapers."

"Well, who can argue with that?" The fat businessman sighed, his eyes filled with longing.

As the tram pulled into the station, Arthur straightened his cheap tie, nodded elegantly to the crowd, and turned to get off the tram.

Behind him, the group of passengers were still engaged in a heated debate about "who the honest man really is," and their voices even carried onto the platform.

Arthur walked down the street leading to the newspaper office, feeling the cool autumn morning breeze, and his mood was more cheerful than ever before.