The Black Foundation and the Red Cross
James Sett, the head of the Sett family, has recently become the talk of the town in Mississippi.
The young man Rockefeller, having been selected by him, was experiencing one surprise after another since arriving in Mississippi.
Although he didn't show it outwardly, he was convinced that slavery was a barbaric and outdated institution. His conclusion was that the planters who clung to such a low-class system were losers who would soon be weeded out by the flow of the times.
Nevertheless, he had decided to watch from James Sett's side, thinking that perhaps he might be different, but the scene he witnessed with his own eyes was beyond his imagination.
Crack!
"Whoaaaa! It's a home run! That's the third home run this season!"
"Hey, you bastard! Don't throw the bat!"
"What? The problem is the guy who got hit for a home run, not me! I want to throw the bat, so what's it to you?"
"Don't you know the spirit of fair play? The spirit of fair play!"
"Then let's ask the Master if this is bad manners or not!"
Every Sunday, the Sett plantation transforms into a sports field for physical training.
Some of the more intense individuals would throw balls and swing bats even on weekdays if their work finished early.
That wasn't all. Performance was measured by teams that changed every month, and they were given incentives, which they used to buy extra scraps of meat or cheap bread to fill their bellies.
But that alone made them noticeably more motivated, and at the end-of-the-month gatherings, they would all eat, drink, and even sing together.
Rockefeller could understand why James was trying to find additional agricultural brokers like Hewitt & Turtle.
At this rate, it was only natural that they would need to secure extra food.
"This is inefficient. No matter how much you improve efficiency, there's more money going out... wait, no there isn't? Why?"
After looking at the ledger, he was even more surprised. Compared to last year and the year before, the yield of clean cotton from the plantations operated by Sett had increased to a degree that couldn't even be compared.
With revenue skyrocketing like this, even if they secured more food and distributed it, it wouldn't affect the profit margin.
"Thorough division of labor... and efficiently controlling desire to convert it into efficiency."
Rockefeller realized for certain that James was different from the other planters scattered all over the South.
"I've made contact with the doctors at the MSMA, and it looks like we'll have a meeting this week. Would you like to come along?"
"No. Isn't it you, Sett, who said that it wouldn't be good for me to be seen with you?"
"That is true. That way, it'll be easier for you to do business, too. Still, they're doctors, so there's no need to worry."
From agricultural products to medical care.
The planters and politicians of the South, unaware of what James was doing behind the scenes, praised James as the most exemplary planter in the South.
However, Rockefeller was convinced.
Others might not know, but seeing him handle agricultural supplies, medical care, and even military supplies through himself, James's aim was clear.
He was moving with the certainty that a war was coming.
"Was there anyone uncomfortable with building a hospital to care for the Black people?"
"If you combine the Sett and Minor families, the number of slaves alone is 1,500. It would be stranger if there hadn't been one until now. Besides, since I said I would provide medical care to the local residents at a low cost, they actually welcomed it."
"I see. Certainly, the political circles will view it favorably, and there's nothing bad about it."
A planter who is touted as the most exemplary in the South is actually moving with the certainty that a war will break out.
Looking at his principles of action, one might wonder if he is leaning toward the idea that slavery will not persist.
No, even if slavery were to persist, the planters of the South trust him, so he would still be able to live while enjoying social fame.
Ultimate worldly wisdom and long-term investment that has no downside regardless of which way things flow.
On top of that, a grand ambition to eventually place all of the South's cotton industry under his feet.
The more he saw, the more it felt like encountering new cultural artifacts from a different era.
No matter how much of a genius one is, if it isn't supported by theory, that brilliance is bound to end as a one-time thing.
But Rockefeller, having seen the advanced techniques here and witnessed their effects at a glance, was unknowingly rewriting his own concept of management.
After seeing the official document sent by Governor Macrae regarding the hospital establishment, I left the room and closed my eyes for a moment, lost in meditation.
As I felt the certainty that I was moving closer and closer to my goal, my mind felt even clearer.
The groundwork is finished.
If I just wanted to live well after the war, I could just transfer all my assets to the North or England under a borrowed name.
But I can't spend this second life, which I obtained like a miracle, like that.
Even after the war ends, even after slavery is abolished, whether the North wins or the South wins, no matter how America flows.
I will not let the external environment dictate my life.
Just as I said before closing my eyes at the end of my previous life, I will become the master of this life and this era.
Even if the North wins as in the original history and the era of the North comes, if I spread this hospital nationwide, those thousands and tens of thousands of people in the North will owe me a debt of life.
If that happens, no one will be able to slander me for being from a planter background, and no one will be able to attack me.
It's only been a few months since I started living as James Sett, but there's something I've felt deeply.
A nouveau riche with only money had limits to how high they could climb.
Right now, no matter how much of a big planter I am in the South, don't I have to bow down unconditionally in front of big-shot politicians?
I wonder if that's the reason why planters admire European aristocrats so much and try to imitate them.
Capital, politics, and fame.
To live without being bound by anyone, one must possess all three of those elements.
I am going to drive that wedge in from now on.
I got up from my seat to start moving in earnest.
The situation of the Mississippi State Medical Association, the MSMA, was not very good.
In fact, it was impossible to explain the medical system of the American South, not just Mississippi, by saying it wasn't very good.
It would be no exaggeration to call it a total mess, a disaster, a hellscape unparalleled in the human world.
About 20 years ago, Andrew Jackson was in office, and a phenomenon called Jacksonian Democracy swept through the United States.
To summarize this ideology simply, it was anti-elitism and thorough laissez-faire.
It wasn't that there were no positive elements at all, but the medical field was hit by a nuclear bomb close to a disaster.
This phenomenon worsened as American medicine at the time wasn't particularly outstanding, and alternative medicine, which was emerging at the time, gained popularity.
"Medical licensing is just a tool for the establishment to suppress competitors!"
Such absurd slogans gained popularity, and public opinion spread that it was an unfair regulation for the state to issue licenses for specific professions.
Eventually, medical licenses became nominal, and in the South now, anyone could see patients if they just called themselves a doctor.
As a result, all sorts of quacks ran rampant, and panaceas, as they were called, were being actively sold in various places even at this very moment.
Just as the side effects had accumulated for about 20 years and the citizens were beginning to realize that this wasn't right, Mississippi was hit by a large-scale yellow fever outbreak, resulting in numerous casualties.
The doctors in Mississippi, judging that if things continued this way, a situation would come where they truly couldn't do anything, gathered to correct this disorderly chaos, and this organization was the MSMA.
But no matter how good the ideal was, 19th-century America was already a capitalist society.
Without money, an association cannot operate.
The MSMA, which ambitiously held an inauguration ceremony in 1856, had not been able to hold a single general meeting until now, and was in a situation where it couldn't even engage in proper activities.
"But it will be fine now. Because we have a reliable sponsor."
"Hahahaha! Finally, we can hold a general meeting."
"But I heard he's still young, so why would he be interested in something like this from the start?"
"He's working his slaves harshly, so there must be many slaves who get sick or injured. I suspect it's a show of generosity to make up for that."
"Well, anyway, can't we just produce results with this? It wouldn't be bad if we could secure operating funds by catering to a young nouveau riche."
Although they had to treat a large number of Black people, the doctors of the association were looking forward to the time when their influence would grow.
In this era when medical licenses had become nominal, they had no doubt that their association would become a ray of light.
And a moment later, the nouveau riche who would become their financial backer arrived.
"Nice to meet you. I am James Sett, who manages the Sett plantation."
"Nice to meet you. I've heard a lot about you, but I didn't know you would be this tall and handsome. Hahaha! I am William Geddes, the association president."
"Come this way and sit. Oh, I am Secretary Craft."
The smiles never left the faces of all the association members who had welcomed their reliable financial backer who would pay for the association's operating expenses from now on.
The fact that he was a young man who had just started to experience the world, rather than a cunning old fox who had been through all sorts of trials, was particularly pleasing.
Where hadn't they met young rich men of this age once or twice?
Most young planters were the type to open their wallets generously if you flattered them appropriately and treated them like aristocrats.
They could bet their entire fortune that this young man, decorated from head to toe in luxury goods, was no different.
As James walked leisurely and took off his coat, the Black slave who followed him took it politely.
"First, I am glad to be able to work with you on such a historic project."
"We are the same."
"This hospital construction is not just for the Sett and Minor families. By providing high-quality medical care to the poor in the region at a reasonable price, we will dramatically boost the medical infrastructure of Mississippi."
"Just hearing that makes me feel reassured. Hahaha! You truly have an aristocratic character, worthy of the next-generation cotton king of the South."
"So, I'm saying, first we will build a hospital to care for our family's slaves, and I will set the next goal as building additional hospitals across Mississippi, beyond Natchez."
He's going to give this much even though we haven't properly flattered him yet?
It's good, but at the same time, a sense of doubt arose.
"That... Mr. Sett? We are grateful, but is there a reason you are investing on such a large scale?"
"The plantation I inherited is not just in Natchez, but also in other places in Mississippi. And I am continuing to expand the plantation even now. And since I, of all people, am investing, shouldn't I make sure it's done well enough to be called the best in the South?"
"Ah, yes. That is... your thought."
He's already dealing with over 700 slaves, and he's continuing to buy slaves and expand his land?
Is this human being really planning to cover Mississippi with his own slaves and cotton plantations?
"Instead, since I am investing, there must be something I take, right? Leo, the documents."
As James gestured, the Black slave quickly placed a thick stack of documents on the table.
The eyes of President William, who quickly scanned the documents, grew wider and wider.
"Cooperation with the association in launching a product that combines quarantine, transit, insurance, and freight... ownership of data obtained while operating the hospital is attributed to James Sett, the association holds the right to view... royalty for certificates and educational pipelines to be negotiated later... what is all this?"
There was something written incredibly long behind it, but there were three major conditions that the association members found difficult to easily accept.
1. The final approval for the appointment of the hospital's medical director rests with James, the investor.
2. All operational methods (hygiene, records, etc.) of the James Clinic to be established this time will become the official standard of the MSMA in the future.
3. The right to view all data of the hospital is the property of James Sett.
"Those are the authorities I must take. As the investor responsible for operations, I think it is only natural that I take this much authority."
"What is that..."
"Because I plan to expand this business on a larger scale."
James interrupted William and continued, and at the same time, Leo placed a document in the middle of the table for everyone to see.
"This is an official document sent directly by Governor Macrae. It states that depending on the results of this project, the validity of the certificates issued by our association will also be guaranteed in Mississippi."
"I, is that really true?"
As soon as they heard the words that the Governor of Mississippi would guarantee it, the expressions of the association members changed completely.
The fundamental purpose of the MSMA.
Because a shortcut was opened too easily to their dream of replacing the license that had become useless by issuing certificates only to proper medical personnel.
"It's good for you because you can easily achieve your goal, and if the project goes even better, I might be able to establish a huge medical organization that can encompass the entire United States, using this hospital as a stepping stone."
President William, who had tried to coax James, realized that they were in a position to be notified whether they would become a part of this huge plan or not.
After that, issues such as the association's operation plan and dispute resolution organization were discussed, and the medical doctors of Mississippi resolved to join James's noble plan as if they were possessed by a ghost.
James, who had effectively acquired the entire association, respectfully expressed his courtesy to the medical staff's decision and stood up from his seat.
"Then, I have an appointment, so I will be going. Leo?"
The young Black slave quickly put the coat on James and walked with disciplined steps to open the door of the conference room.
"If you go back now, the timing will be perfect. Let's go, Master."
James left with a light step just as he had arrived, and only the association members who seemed possessed by something remained in their seats.
"Goodness... it feels like a typhoon just swept through."
"Didn't he say... he was born in 1836? Did you say he was twenty?"
"Is he perhaps planning to run for president in the future?"
"Is he planning to spread his slaves all over the United States?"
"Since he said he would build hospitals even in the North, maybe he's planning to employ Black people in factories in large numbers..."
Sighs, whether they were questions or monologues, rose from everywhere, but naturally, no answer returned.
All they could confirm was their own handwriting signing that they agreed to the contract James left behind.
And only the various cross designs they were reviewing as the symbol of the organization.