America 1929: John F. Kennedy, the Great Writer

On the morning of the 24th, after a quick wash, Arthur put on his faded shirt, slipped on his cheap suit, and hurried out the door.

Today he has a field assignment. Editor-in-Chief Jason arranged an interview for him yesterday, asking him to go to a textile factory in Brooklyn to learn about "the happy life of the working class in a prosperous era".

Arthur thought to himself: How ironic. When the Great Depression comes at the end of the month, these interviews about "happy life" can probably be thrown straight into the trash.

The trolley swayed and rattled across the Brooklyn Bridge. Inside, the passengers were still enthusiastically discussing stocks; some were excitedly saying they had made another two hundred dollars yesterday, while others were planning a vacation to Europe next month.

At 9:00 a.m. sharp, Arthur arrived at the textile factory located in the Brooklyn industrial area.

The factory manager, a portly middle-aged man, led him on a tour of the workshop with a broad smile, constantly boasting about the factory's output and the workers' income.

"Look, Mr. Kennedy, our workers earn twenty-five dollars a week! In this great era, even ordinary workers can live a decent life! I myself have made quite a bit of money in the stock market, and I just bought my second car last month!"

Arthur nodded politely, mechanically jotting down some unimportant information in his notebook.

Time ticked by. The factory manager continued his saga of how he made his fortune, while the workers repeated their mechanical labor amidst the roar of the machines.

Everything seemed so normal, so peaceful.

Just then, around 10:30 a.m., the radio in the factory office suddenly emitted a piercing static sound.

The factory manager frowned and went over to adjust the channel.

Immediately afterwards, the announcer's slightly flustered voice came through the radio:

"Attention listeners, the New York Stock Exchange is experiencing unusual volatility! General Electric's stock price has fallen by more than ten percent in the first half hour after the market opened! Large-scale sell-offs have occurred in several blue-chip stocks, including U.S. Steel and U.S. Radio..."

Arthur's body stiffened abruptly.

In that instant, he felt the whole world fall silent.

The roar of the machines, the factory manager's voice, and the workers' footsteps all became distant background noise.

Only the announcer's voice on the radio was so clear it seemed to explode right next to his ear.

"It's today..." Arthur muttered to himself, "It's actually today..."

The factory manager's face turned deathly pale instantly. The teacup in his hand fell to the ground with a "crash" and shattered into pieces.

"How is that possible? It was still rising yesterday... It must be a temporary pullback, yes, it must be!" He rushed to the office phone, his fingers trembling as he dialed.

Arthur stood there, feeling his mind go completely blank.

He knew this day would come; he wrote articles and issued warnings, but when the moment actually arrived, the shock still left him almost breathless.

"I was right...I was right..."

The thought echoed wildly in his mind.

The feeling is like groping in the dark for a long time, and suddenly someone turns on the light. You find yourself standing on the edge of a cliff, feeling both relieved that you haven't fallen and terrified by the bottomless abyss.

Over the next hour, the radio broadcasts became more frequent and the tone increasingly terrified:

The Dow Jones Industrial Average has plummeted, falling by more than 11 percent!

"Chaos erupted in the exchange floor! Brokers frantically sold off their stocks!"

"All phone lines are down! Countless investors are trying to contact their brokers!"

The factory workers stopped what they were doing and gathered around the radio. Some began to cry, some collapsed to the ground, and others shouted hysterically:

"My savings! My house! It's all gone!"

The factory manager went completely mad, grabbing the phone and frantically dialing, but all he heard was a busy signal. Beads of sweat poured from his forehead, and he looked as if his soul had been drained from his body.

"Impossible...impossible...President Hoover said the fundamentals are healthy...experts say the bull market will continue into next year, damn it..."

Upon hearing this, Arthur suddenly shuddered.

He practically rushed out of the factory and ran into the street.

The outside world has begun to descend into chaos.

People poured out of various buildings, some rushing towards banks, some towards securities companies, and others simply running aimlessly through the streets, their faces filled with panic and despair.

Shock, fear, excitement, guilt... countless emotions intertwined in his heart.

He was shocked that he had actually foreseen all of this, terrified that the scale of the disaster far exceeded his imagination, excited about the opportunities that were about to come, and guilty that he saw his own future in the tragedy of others.

A newsboy ran past him, waving an extra edition in his hand:

"Read the newspaper! Read the newspaper! Wall Street has crashed! The stock market has plummeted! Quick, look at yesterday's prediction in the New York Daily News! That 'honest man of Wall Street' was right!"

Arthur was stunned.

He watched the newsboy disappear around the street corner and suddenly realized that his article, the one ridiculed as "alarmist" titled "Van Dyke's Stock Market Diary," was now becoming the focus of the entire city in a way he had never anticipated.

……

Meanwhile, at the editorial office of The New York Daily.

"Have you found Kennedy?!"

Editor-in-Chief Jensen's roar nearly lifted the ceiling. His face was flushed red, veins bulged on his forehead, and he clutched a stack of voicemail slips tightly in his hand.

"No! He went to Brooklyn for an interview early this morning, and all the phone lines are down now, we can't get in touch with him at all!"

Dorothy, the receptionist, was so anxious she was almost in tears.

"Damn it! Damn it! Damn it!" Jason slammed his fist on the table.

"Do you know how many people are looking for him right now?! The vice president of JPMorgan Chase, representatives of the Rockefeller family, and the mayor's office! They're all asking the same question: Who exactly is this 'honest man on Wall Street'?! What else does he know, and how does he know it?!"

The editorial department was in complete chaos.

Brent, who was mocking Arthur yesterday, is now sitting in a corner with his head in his hands, his face pale.

He just bought more shares of the radio company yesterday, and now those shares are worthless.

"He's a prophet...he really is a prophet..." Brent murmured to himself, "How did he know? How on earth did he know?"

"No, he's not a prophet." Editor-in-Chief Jason suddenly calmed down, a glint of insight flashing in his eyes.

"He's Kennedy. Damn, I should have known! This isn't a coincidence, it's absolutely not a coincidence!"

"You mean..." Dorothy's eyes widened.

"I mean, there might be a real Kennedy family member hiding in our newspaper!"

Jason took a deep breath.

"Find him now, immediately! Send men to Brooklyn, to his apartment, to everywhere he might be! Tell him the column is negotiable, the salary is negotiable, everything is negotiable! As long as he's willing to keep writing!"

The entire editorial department sprang into action.

……

At that moment, Arthur was crammed into a crowded subway, being pushed and shoved by the crowd toward Manhattan.

The carriage was filled with the sounds of crying, cursing, and praying.

Some people were chanting "God bless," some were frantically calculating how much money they had left, and some had completely collapsed, slumping on the ground and sobbing uncontrollably.

Arthur was caught in the middle of this desperate crowd, feeling a suffocating panic.

But in his heart, the excitement following the shock grew stronger and stronger, almost to the point of shouting out loud.

He could almost foresee the reaction from the editorial staff of The New York Daily News: Hearst and Jason must be frantically searching for him.

Now it's Arthur Kennedy's turn to shine!