The Hero of a Chaotic Age (2)
Andrew Carnegie was an immigrant born in Scotland who, unlike the other children around him, had been diligent from a very young age.
He possessed a keen ability to distinguish between even the smallest financial gains and losses that others would simply overlook, and thanks to this, he was able to land a job at the Pennsylvania Railroad Company as soon as he reached adulthood.
Working as a secretary to the branch manager, Thomas Scott, he proved his competence time and again. He climbed the ladder with lightning speed, eventually reaching the position of supervisor at the Pittsburgh branch, and even in his current role, he was continuing to prove his true worth.
Although the Pennsylvania Railroad Company was faltering in the wake of the panic, unlike other places, this company was the very definition of stability, and he had the conviction that it would normalize again within a few years.
Therefore, he had no intention of wavering, even if recruitment offers came from elsewhere.
However, the more he listened, the more interested he became in the young man named Rockefeller sitting before him.
He heard that Rockefeller was four years his junior, yet he had already built his own business to such a massive scale.
Yes, to be honest, it wasn't just interest—he felt a bit of jealousy, too.
He possessed the pride that his own ability was by no means inferior to his, yet here he was, still holding nothing more than the title of supervisor.
The desire to lead a business proactively, like Rockefeller, had been with him for years, but unfortunately, he still lacked sufficient capital.
“...Then, for now, I will arrange for dedicated freight cars for SS and SM on our railroad’s night trains. Cargo volume has dropped significantly lately anyway, so the higher-ups will surely welcome it.”
“I see. But I heard that you, Mr. Carnegie, have made an immense contribution to improving this company’s profitability...”
“It’s just a matter of improving the sleeping cars a little.”
“Not at all. I heard it’s such an innovative system that competing companies are scrambling to copy it. Yet, despite showing such ability, you remain a supervisor... Honestly, it doesn’t feel like someone else’s story, so it weighs on my mind.”
Rockefeller naturally began to spin a tale about the agricultural brokerage firm he had previously worked for.
He spoke of how he had significantly improved profit margins by eliminating inefficient intermediate processes, only to have his heart broken when his contributions were not recognized during salary negotiations.
When he reached the part about meeting his current financier and fortunately being able to strike out on his own, Carnegie’s eyes sparkled with interest.
“Then, the capital used to start Mr. Rockefeller’s company was provided by someone else?”
“Yes. You could say I am a professional manager. But because I share not just a salary, but the company’s profits as well, I am very satisfied.”
“And that person wants to collaborate with you as well.”
“Of course, they won’t invest immediately. Wouldn’t they want to verify Mr. Carnegie’s ability before drawing up a proper contract?”
This was something he desired as well.
He didn’t know who that financier was, but he couldn’t rule out the possibility that they were just a smooth-talking con artist.
To quit the solid company he was currently working for and take the risk of jumping into business, he had to accurately gauge the size of the vessel that would hold him.
“But wouldn’t someone investing that much capital interfere with management policies here and there?”
“I have no complaints in that regard. They set the big picture from time to time, but they reflect my opinions sufficiently. If you’d like to have a conversation with them, Mr. Carnegie, I will arrange a meeting.”
“Then I would appreciate it. Of course, I will take responsibility and finish this current contract regardless of my scout offer.”
If he could secure enough investment, he might be able to execute the plans he had in mind much faster.
From coal mining to transportation, production, and even the steel industry.
If he could vertically integrate this entire process, he could save an enormous amount on unit costs and render competing companies obsolete.
It was not a dream to monopolize this vast market called the United States.
‘I hope Rockefeller isn’t just blowing hot air.’
A path paved with gold and dollars began to shimmer before his eyes.
While Rockefeller was busy recruiting secret friends in the North, I had to keep my nerves on edge to ensure I wasn’t swept away by the aftermath of the super-typhoon that had landed in the United States.
The situation had now moved beyond the stage of mere debate over who was better.
This was already a grand ideological contest vying for the leadership of the entire United States.
Since the South had invited none other than the President of the Board of Trade, one of the key figures in the British Cabinet, the North would inevitably catch on to the South’s intentions.
The risk of being branded an enemy of the North or a traitor to the South the moment I made a single wrong move was growing ever larger.
Playing the bat was becoming increasingly tricky, but building ties with Lincoln and the Governor of Ohio had indeed been a masterstroke.
I secretly kept the two of them informed of the movements on this side, letting them know that I was by no means a man whose brain was made of cotton.
Fortunately, Lincoln understood my position relatively well.
Seeing him share such subtly helpful information, it was clear that Lincoln also accepted me as a trustworthy person.
If this was the case, it wouldn’t be a major problem even if I performed a few tricks in front of Baron Eldery as the face of the South.
Lincoln would keep my notoriety within the Republican Party from growing beyond a certain level.
However, that was one thing, and I was still annoyed by the behavior of our Southern dickies, who tried to fleece me the moment I treated them well.
If they had a conscience and common sense, shouldn’t they feel the need to repay someone who treated them this well?
How could they be so shameless, acting as if I should treat them even better in the future just because I had done so until now?
Ah, wait—they had no conscience and no common sense, which was why they defended slavery and treated Black people as objects rather than human beings.
That was certainly my miscalculation.
But on the other hand, I also felt grateful.
It was a fact that I was using the planters of the South, even if it was to look after myself and live well.
Whether a war breaks out or not, if the situation flows in this direction, unlike the dickies whose downfall is scheduled, I can continue to soar to the very top of this country.
It wasn’t pleasant to use my neighbors as a stepping stone for that, but since they were showing such shamelessness, I couldn’t help but be grateful.
From now on, I would use them thoroughly without hesitation, squeeze them dry, and then discard them like a used rag.
Even if a situation comes after the war breaks out where all slaves are freed and they have to sell off their farms while buried in debt, it’s not my fault, is it?
In the first place, I am simply being faithful to the role my dicky friends want me to play.
Therefore, I need to make the swamp of delusion that the South is walking into even stickier and thicker.
I sought out Governor McRae and Senator Parr to clearly point out what was lacking in their plans.
“...You say we must use the press?”
“Yes. Hasn’t the power of newspapers already been proven by the recent Boston Advertiser incident?”
“That is true. These days, most people who think for themselves are reading the newspapers.”
Even in the 21st century, there are countless people who accept editorials or articles in newspapers as absolute truth.
How much more so in the 19th century?
It was common for urban public sentiment to sway like waves just by sprinkling a few inflammatory articles, and both the Republican and Democratic parties were increasingly realizing the power of the press to their bones.
So, they would surely nod their heads at my suggestion without suspicion.
“Hmm... how should we use the newspapers to be effective?”
“You just have to go for it. ‘The British Board of Trade was awestruck by the Southern cotton economy.’ ‘Cotton is indeed God.’ ‘Long live the United States, blessed by cotton.’ If you write things like this in succession, people will naturally be influenced, won’t they?”
What does it matter if the content is a bit different from the facts?
The newspapers aren’t Democratic Party organs, so if we just claim they wrote it on their own, we can remain free from responsibility.
“Indeed, as you say, it will be a major promotion. The citizens of the United States will be able to more easily know the fact that our South has triumphed.”
“Yes. Isn’t our proud United States a democracy, meaning the citizens are the masters? No matter how well we are doing, it is useless if the citizens don’t know. We must clearly let the citizens, and the whole world, know that they cannot live without our Southern cotton.”
“Hmm, hmm. In my view, that seems like a very good strategy. What do you think, Senator Parr?”
“Of course we must do it. I will speak with our collaborators so that articles can be published throughout the United States immediately. Sett, as expected, you are a talent we cannot do without! Hahaha!”
Good, good.
As expected of elite politicians, they understand immediately just how effective my strategy will be.
A few days after I visited the two of them, the British Board of Trade, having finished their schedule in Washington D.C., boarded a ship bound for Mississippi.
And in line with that, pro-Democratic newspapers began to pour out articles in unison.
No matter how much Southern politicians try to win the mental game by claiming we are the best, it is meaningless if the public doesn’t accept it.
But if everyone in the South unites and supports the Southern politicians, it ceases to be a mere slogan for politicians and becomes the very public opinion of the South.
“Thank you! Thank you, everyone! Slavery, our precious tradition of the United States! We, the Democratic Party, will surely protect it!”
“Blacks are not human! Cotton never dies!”
The Democratic Party’s intention to invite a high-ranking British official to consolidate Southern public opinion hit the mark perfectly.
Baron Eldery, who had come to settle railroad stocks only to witness this frenzy in the South, seemed to have much on his mind, but he was not a man so oblivious as to declare, “I actually hope for the abolition of slavery,” here.
If he offended the Southern planters, who would buy his toxic railroad stocks?
Above all, the British officials, including Baron Eldery, accepted this conflict in America as a continuation of the WWE that had always existed until now.
This was not the first time the South had threatened independence.
During the Nullification Crisis of 1832, the South had a history of putting on a show about seceding from the Union or not.
So, naturally, British politicians had no choice but to think of this commotion as the periodic madness of Southerners, as always.
“The British Empire, as a good neighbor, prays for the amicable resolution of the conflict in the United States.”
At the Natchez landing, Baron Eldery offered his well-wishes toward the crowd packed like a swarm of bees, his English dripping with an aristocratic accent.
Of course, the dickies, who interpreted that as “The British Empire will help the South so that the conflict is resolved amicably,” shrieked in ecstasy, and the officials of the Board of Trade simply smiled and waved their hands.
It was no wonder the British thought so naively; the United States was a country that hadn’t split even when fighting Britain, the world’s greatest superpower.
Would such a United States really split over a problem like this?
Would they really declare secession from the Union just because they were pissed off?
Would they really declare war against the North, which had already finished industrialization, with a cotton-only economy?
Renowned British scholars had already finished analyzing why the North and South could not actually split and had even published papers on it.
-It makes no sense for the South to wage war against the North. How can a country that cannot self-supply food fight against a region that possesses the breadbasket that feeds them? If the war drags on, even the supply of rifles or cannons will not be proper, so the South can never defeat the North.
It was an extremely common-sense prediction, and the Civil War actually followed this prediction perfectly.
Could the South self-supply food?
-No.
Was the supply of weapons smooth?
-No.
Did the South defeat the North?
-They lost.
So, the South wouldn’t have the heart to wage war against the North, right?
-No.
Surprisingly, this is reality.