America 1929: John F. Kennedy, the Great Writer

On the other side of New York, in City Hall, Jimmy Walker was reading Lippmann's article. His expression grew increasingly grim.

"Lippman has jumped in too. This is troublesome."

The aide standing to the side asked anxiously, "Mayor, what should we do?"

Walker paused for a moment, then said, "We can't use the same methods as before. George Bernard Shaw and Walter Lippmann are watching us. If we use administrative means to obstruct again, the whole world will laugh at us."

"Then let them perform?"

Walker nodded and said:

"But we need to be prepared. If the play flops, we'll publicize it and say it proves our judgment was correct. If the play succeeds, we'll say he's slandering the government; there's always a way."

Walker's eyes narrowed:

"In short, this battle is not over yet. Kennedy thought he had won because of the support of Shaw and Lippmann. How naive."

After his staff left, Walker sat alone in his office, lit a cigar, and looked out at the City Hall Square.

As night fell, the streetlights in the square lit up one by one, but Walker's mood grew heavier and heavier.

Just then, there was a knock on the office door.

The man who entered was Charles DeLa, Walker's most trusted political advisor. He was one of the core figures of the Tammany Association's reformist faction and a key contributor to Walker's rise to the position of mayor.

Dira closed the door and walked to Walker's desk. He sat down in the chair opposite him, his face grave.

"Jimmy, we need to talk about Kennedy."

Walker exhaled a puff of smoke:

"I know what you're going to say, Charles. But Kennedy isn't so easy to deal with. There are too many people watching him right now, and if we make any big moves, it will only attract more attention."

Dillah shook his head and took a document from his briefcase. It was the internal meeting minutes of the Tammony Society. He turned to the third page, which contained a discussion about Arthur Kennedy.

Walker opened the file, quickly glanced through it, and his expression became even more serious.

Dila continued, "You see, many people in the association are unhappy with how you handled this. Especially the old-school types, they think you were too weak."

Walker threw the file back on the table, somewhat annoyed.

"Weakness? I'm handling the problem in a smarter way. Do they want me to do what I used to do and just send someone to threaten Kennedy? That would only make things worse."

"I know, that's what I told them too, but you have to understand their concerns," Dilla said.

"Jimmy, you know what we've been doing all these years. We've been trying to change the association's image, transforming it from an organization that relies on violence and intimidation into a modern political machine."

"The former president pushed for reforms and brought you to power so that he could show the outside world that the Tammany Association is no longer what it used to be."

Dila turned around and looked at Walker.

"We are politicians now, city administrators, representatives of progress. We need to convince people that New York will be better in our hands. This is our only chance to clean up our act and get back on track."

Walker understood what Dillah meant. The Tammany Society's past practice of maintaining power through violence and corruption was becoming increasingly unsustainable in modern society.

They need a new image, a more respectable and legitimate one.

Walker himself is the embodiment of this new image.

He was young, handsome, and a gifted speaker, always displaying impeccable manners in public. He represented a "new New York," a New York that had broken free from its dark past.

But Kennedy's article is undermining this carefully constructed image.

Dila continued:

"The question is, what is Kennedy doing? He is putting the spotlight on us, making everyone see how the government operates, which will make ordinary citizens start to think and start to question."

"Do you know how dangerous this is? Once they start thinking, start questioning, our power base will crumble."

Walker knew Dila was right.

The power of the Tammany Association rests on a delicate balance.

On the one hand, they need public support, or at least public acquiescence. On the other hand, they don't want the public to pay too much attention to politics or think too much about how power operates.

Ideally, the public would feel that everything is functioning normally, that the government is serving them, that elections are fair, and that democracy is genuine.

As long as the public believes these things, the association can continue to manipulate everything behind the scenes.

But Kennedy's article is disrupting this balance.

"There's another thing. Some people in the association are worried that Kennedy might say something he shouldn't."

Walker's heart tightened.

Smuggling deals at the docks, the shady dealings behind judge appointments, collusion between the police and gangs, and countless bribes and exchanges of favors.

These are ingrained in the very DNA of the Tammany Association.

Although they are trying to clear their name, the consequences would be unimaginable if those past events were exposed.

Worse still, even now, under the banner of "reform," the association continues to do many shady things. They've just become more covert and sophisticated in their methods.

If Kennedy continues to dig deeper, if he really does discover something...

"I understand what you mean, I'll handle it," Walker said.

Dillah nodded, then changed the subject: "There's one more thing, Jimmy. John McCoy is already making moves."

Walker sneered, "McCoey? That piece of trash?"

He had always looked down on John McCoy. McCoy was the nominal president of the Tammany Society, but he was far inferior to his predecessor, Murphy, and had no ability to control the different factions within the society.

"Don't underestimate him," Dila said seriously.

"McCoey may be a puppet, but he has a group of old-school forces behind him. Those people control the docks and the gangs."

"When the dockworkers besieged the New York Daily News last time, did you think it was just a spontaneous act by the workers? There must have been someone behind it. Those people wanted to use this opportunity to put pressure on you."

Walker's expression turned serious. He knew Dira was right.

Dilla continued, "If you can't deal with Kennedy quickly, those old guys will take matters into their own hands. Then things will get worse. They might use some more direct methods."

Walker understood what "more direct means" meant. It meant violence and destruction.

If that were to happen, not only would Kennedy suffer, but all the reformists' efforts would be in vain. The news media would publicize it extensively, and the whole world would know the true nature of the Tammany Association.

In that case, the idea of ​​"laundering one's reputation and going ashore" would become a joke.

Walker took a deep drag on his cigar and said:

"I assure you, Kennedy will not have the opportunity to say things he shouldn't. And I will handle things our way, without giving McCoy and his ilk a chance to interfere."

Dila looked at Walker, remained silent for a moment, and then nodded.

"I believe you, Jimmy. But you have to be quick. Time is running out."

After Dila left, Walker sat back down in his chair and fell into deep thought.

After a long while, Walker picked up the phone and dialed a number.

"It's me. Regarding the Kennedy case you mentioned before, do it our way."

A deep voice came from the other end of the phone: "Yes, Mayor."