Chapter 140

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Translator: Ace

Chapter: 140

Chapter Title: The Fall of the Giant (10)

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The 1928 U.S. presidential election ended in Hoover's victory, just as everyone had expected.

Al Smith, the Democratic candidate who faced off against Hoover, had a fatal weakness: he was Catholic. On top of that, he was tied to the notorious Tammany Hall crowd from the Democratic Party, infamous for their corruption.

The already battered Republican Party, torn apart by infighting during the primaries, gritted their teeth and pulled out a negative campaign strategy—and it hit the mark.

"Al Smith as president? Folks, Catholics all bow to the Pope's rule and submit to the Vatican’s authority. Those old-world papists are already holding secret meetings every night, vowing to 'dedicate the United States to His Holiness the Pope'! God save the Union!"

"If the Democrats take power this time, all our current glory and prosperity will go up in smoke, and the wealth that should come to us will be sucked straight into the pockets of those corrupt politicians!"

Of course, the Democrats didn't just sit there and take it.

"Hoover as president? Folks, Hoover—who can't get enough of those darkies—is about to sell this sacred Union off to the blacks! The darkies are already holding secret meetings every night, vowing to 'kill the whites and take over this country'! God save the Union!"

"If the Republicans take power this time, that doggone Prohibition will be extended another four years! Let's drink like men for once! We need to scrap this insane law that's just fattening up the criminals!"

In the end, after this nauseating, mind-numbing brawl, Hoover seized the throne and strode triumphantly into the White House.

Hope for the future that Hoover had promised.

The belief that this boom would continue.

That belief was Hoover's strongest base of support.

On March 4, 1929, President Hoover's reign began.

By this point, there were already quite a few people issuing warnings mixed with talk about the economy and financial markets.

"It's time for a correction."

"We should start taking a more conservative approach to investments."

But astonishingly, under the watch of the great economic president Hoover, the stock market kept climbing its upward graph. Those analysts—or whatever they called themselves—crawling around Manhattan were reduced to mumbling mutes.

The institutions sold, but individuals bought.

As a result, stocks that had temporarily stalled shot straight back up, as if insisting that sideways movement was just catching their breath. The ants did it! The ants pulled it off!

Of course, a cynic might interpret it entirely differently.

The institutions cashed in their profits, and the ants bought up all the bombs.

And so, the stock market charged headlong toward October 1929.

"As the nation's Commander-in-Chief, my heart aches for the plight of our suffering farmers. Therefore, I promise innovative measures for rural reform and relief."

Hoover opposed the rural relief bill led by Curtis, but he wasn't some heartless type like Ford who would just yell, "Failed rural investors can drop dead, haw haw!" No one like that could even get into politics.

But the solutions from Hoover—the high priest of free-market economics and darling of the capitalist class—weren't enough to soothe the furious farmers.

"There's a massive drought hitting the countryside right now. To even start farming, we need seeds, but where the hell are farmers supposed to borrow that money?"

"There are banks out there. If farming is competitive enough, the banks will lend, naturally."

"All those banks that did business in rural areas have gone bust! The countryside is already dead!"

"Government intervention in the market is unconstitutional. Of course, the farmers' suffering pains me, but this is a land of freedom, and government involvement must be minimized. As president, I have authority granted by the Constitution—not the power to violate it."

"You bastard! If some pervert grabs your wife, you gonna say you don't have the authority to fight back?!"

"Good on you, Hoover! Don't give in to those red bastards' whining!"

"It's better to teach a man to fish than to give him a fish. I will pursue long-term improvements in agricultural competitiveness with as little market intervention as possible."

The intentions were good. The intentions were.

But this country always has its irregularities.

Suddenly, things started unfolding in a direction I never could have imagined.

"President Harding established US MILK in the past. He was a man with a warm heart, who believed in human goodness and will more than anyone. That's why he thought US MILK could save both dairy farmers and veterans.

But what’s the reality? Farmers who’ve tasted government intervention are now clinging even harder to welfare. They're wailing, 'Why does milk survive while wheat dies?'

While that policy wasn't without its positive effects, the harm of such charitable promises has taken root like a deadly poison over decades.

The American people chose me because they believed I could lead America to prosperity with firmness and strictness. To honor that, I will thoroughly reform US MILK—the hotbed of entrenched corruption—"

"Wh-what is this?!"

Hoover's first blade was pointed straight at us.

Even I, who had been rolling around in command posts after graduating ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠from the Army War College to manage my career, had no choice but to race full speed to Washington D.C. after seeing the newspaper.

"I knew you'd come."

"Are you alright?"

Congressman Curtis had an incredibly calm expression.

"What had to come, came."

"Not that... You mean US MILK."

"Of course. I saw it coming ever since I turned down the vice presidency."

Instead of sharing a drink, we stepped out into the yard.

"The reason Hoover offered me the VP spot is simple. He wanted to neuter me and stick me in a pretty cage just for show."

"Yeah, that makes sense."

"I saw through that obvious ploy, so I refused. Even though I lost the primaries, I realized I still had plenty of supporters. That's enough stake to speak my mind as the opposition within the party."

As the Republican Senate Majority Leader, a heavyweight presidential candidate, and the absolute champion of rural voters, he had quite the assets.

But hadn't he lost a big chunk of that in the last primaries?

"You think Hoover doesn't know that simple fact? He knows I won't sit pretty in his cage, so now he's trying to clip my wings and beak."

"But is it okay to just upend a whole country's policy like this?"

"He has the justification. Justification."

My father-in-law plopped down roughly on the dirt and stared blankly up at the sky.

"The citizens of the Union hate their taxes going to hicks."

"It's not that black-and-white."

"Hoover even stole traditional Democratic strongholds and planted his flag. A president who achieves that kind of greatness declares he'll 'reform' according to principles. Not abolish—reform. In his first year in office, no less. Of course he can flip it."

Speechless, I sat roughly beside him and looked up at the sky too.

Damn, it's high and clear.

"My era is over."

"You've got a long way to go. You gonna crumble just because you lost an election?"

I'd tried to stop him from the start, and he bulldozed right through. Can't go weak now.

"I'm almost seventy. I feel it every day. I can't accomplish anything anymore, and even the things I did before are crumbling one by one. I'm too... tired to burn with rage and passion watching it happen."

"Sir."

"But I'm fine. I couldn't tear down those lofty walls of D.C., but right here beside me is an excellent successor to carry my banner."

He was looking at me now instead of the sky, but his eyes hadn't changed.

"I won't tell you to become a politician anymore."

"Good, drop it. How about heading inside? It's getting pretty chilly—"

"But remember one thing. Whatever path you choose is your freedom, son-in-law, but you’re the one who can change this country's history, its future. Please... do what I couldn't."

"No thanks. You do it, father-in-law. Be the grown-up who handles it all himself. You've still got your congressional seat, and who knows how long Hoover will stay this cocky?"

If I bit here, he'd ascend to heaven on the spot.

This damn old man. Stop acting like you're ordering your coffin and get back to work. What happens if US MILK blows up? Huh?

"Guess I burdened you too much. Don't mind me. Old age makes me all sentimental."

"No, why swing back to that—? Of course I'll do it! I'm awesome, so I'll smash through walls and whatever and live great! But you need to knock down a wall or two first so I can take it easy, right?"

"Yeah. That's right. Let's head inside. It's just me, a lonely widower, but the new housekeeper's cooking is out of this world. What do you want to eat?"

True to his bold words, dinner was delicious, but oddly, my mouth felt gritty, and the meat stuck in my throat more than it should have.

We parted ways, each having said what we needed to say.

"Isn't US ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠MILK the thing you were involved with?"

"Huh? No, I just said once that it might be a good idea. Nothing directly tying me to it. Don't worry too much."

Hardiiiiing!!

I want to grab dead Harding and chew him out for how he managed his friends. Give me back my card! Give me back my Black Lotus! One of your "friends" went and took a massive dump on US MILK!

Hoover's attacks were vicious.

US MILK, the messiah that saved kids from powdered milk, got the press blowing their trumpets wildly, and suddenly its image was dragged down to Al Capone-level crime cartel status, straight to rock ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠bottom. Even Dorothy, who usually didn't say much about my work, was this worried—how bad was the blaze?

Congressman Curtis was hauled before a hearing and grilled. Of course, given his role and position with US MILK, he couldn't not go, but this was just retaliation. Nah, that was the goal all along.

It wasn't long before a call came from my hoarse-voiced father-in-law.

• Your name came up at the hearing. Figured I should tell you.

"What do you mean?"

• That bastard Doherty spilled everything about us meeting Harding at Woobok. He claimed US MILK was your idea!

Before I could ask anything, he rattled on like a machine gun.

• The testimony wasn't made public. It was just a casual 'it'd be nice if' from you, and no D.C. politician wants the Woobok story out there anyway.

"Then—"

• No big deal. Just letting you know since it's better than ignorance.

If Curtis says so, then it is. Back then, Harding wasn't even a presidential contender—just D.C.'s number one playboy gambler. No real value.

And besides, bigger trouble was brewing over something way beyond milk.

The time had come for the giant to receive its death sentence.