Two Boys
"Hmm, the Palm Beach Gun Club, you say?"
Joseph P. Kennedy.
The handsome man with neatly combed red hair stroked his chin after hearing my proposal.
I nodded.
"That is correct."
"And you want to enroll Mr. Capone's son there?"
"And if you were to enroll your son here as well, I believe it would be quite beneficial for his future prospects."
As I spoke, I looked at Jack—the boy who would one day become President John F. Kennedy. I hadn't expected to meet the future president himself here, but since he was around the same age as Sonny, I figured I might as well bundle them together to get more leverage out of the deal.
Besides, I’d heard that the members of the Palm Beach Gun Club were mostly from old, prestigious American families—what people call WASPs, though that term didn't exist yet in this era. A father like Kennedy, brimming with ambition to elevate his family's status, might have tried to force his sons into the club in a year or two even without my prompting.
Of course, the young Kennedy's own wishes mattered too, but still.
I looked at the young Kennedy.
"Young Mr. Kennedy, what do you think?"
"Uh... well......."
At my question, the boy hesitated, stammering. But there was no need to wait for his answer.
"Actually, I hadn't thought about it, but... it doesn't sound bad. I was looking to reduce my workload during the break anyway. A member of the Kennedy family, destined for great things, cannot simply play all day."
Ah, so he’s part of the early-education-fanatic camp too? It reminds me of my past life, being dragged to private academies the moment I entered elementary school.
I looked at the young Kennedy with a moment of pity before turning back to Papa Kennedy with a bright smile.
"Then it’s settled. If the two boys join together, they will surely become good friends and rivals. Then......."
"However."
That was when Papa Kennedy cut me off.
"That is sufficient for my son alone. Is there any reason I should go out of my way to enroll Mr. Capone's son as a member?"
My, how stingy.
Do you know how many "buy-one-get-one" deals there are even at the supermarkets in my past life?
"As I mentioned earlier, the two children would be good friends......."
"I don't mean to disparage Mr. Capone, but considering the family background and image, I would prefer to keep some distance."
As expected, he hits the nail on the head. I had anticipated this much, though.
"That is why I am asking. In return, Mr. Capone has offered to open one of the transport routes from Canada to Chicago for Mr. Kennedy. If necessary, he said he could even hand over a stake in some of the transport routes leading to New York."
I omitted the word "bootlegging" for the sake of the future president's sensibilities, but he would understand well enough. Besides, bootlegging would be out of business in three years anyway, so it would be best to squeeze as much profit out of it as possible before then.
"To New York? Not just Chicago?"
"As it happens, the business has grown a bit. It’s not bootlegging, but a different venture, though we can certainly supply the volume Mr. Kennedy requires."
This wouldn't be a problem, as we could just load it alongside the milk shipments. No matter how much money Kennedy made on Wall Street, he wouldn't be able to ignore the profits from bootlegging, which was essentially like selling water from the Taedong River. Of course, this wasn't the only thing I was going to propose.
"And, perhaps this could be an opportunity to refine the Kennedy family's image as well."
"What do you mean by that?"
"Surely you don't expect me to go there empty-handed and ask for a membership? But it needs to be packaged well so that the receiving party doesn't feel embarrassed."
Since they were a prestigious family, they would care about their face; simply throwing a pile of cash wouldn't solve the problem. Fortunately, the Kennedy family had a perfect wrapping paper for this occasion.
"You should establish a charitable foundation."
Ah, this is a trade secret.
"A foundation, you say?"
"Just as Mr. Rockefeller engaged in charitable activities through his foundation, you should do the same. By caring for and supporting the poor and the sick, the Kennedy family's image will become even more noble."
I'll leave the hidden feature—that it also helps with tax write-offs—for you to discover on your own.
"Hmm......."
As I finished speaking, Papa Kennedy stroked his chin, lost in thought. Soon, his lips parted.
"Rockefeller, eh... you know how to move a person's desires."
"Haha, that’s the first time I’ve heard that."
I was just saying whatever came to mind, though?
"Well, you’re still young, so you might not know. In time, you will realize what kind of weapon you possess."
With those words, Papa Kennedy stood up, grabbed a fountain pen and a notebook from his desk, and returned to his seat.
"Hmm....... This fellow is difficult, and that person wouldn't have any connections there. Then......."
He muttered as he flipped through his notebook. It was five minutes later when he finally looked up.
"Mr. Lee."
"Yes?"
"How much of a budget did Mr. Capone authorize?"
"It will be more than enough."
"There is a man named Hutton who runs a brokerage firm on Wall Street. If I recall correctly, he is a director at that club. He’s been having a hard time lately due to significant losses in derivatives from this crash."
"Oh, dear."
So he was someone who took the opposite route from me, huh? He should have known when to cash out.
"He’s likely struggling to even pay for the maintenance of his mansions in Florida and New York, so if you provide a little help, he will surely reciprocate."
"Do we have to bear the entire cost?"
"There’s no need for that. He wouldn't accept it if you just handed him money, so you have to give him something else."
"Something else?"
"Information. You must provide information that is worth a fair amount of money for him to agree."
Information? That’s the one thing I have the most of. Though, most of it is too valuable to give away here. I couldn't exactly leak the secrets of the universe—like the fact that there’s a basement beneath the floorboards or that a certain mustachioed man would soon dominate Europe—just to get a letter of recommendation for the kids, could I?
"I will provide the information I have, and he can send me money of equal value."
Fortunately, I didn't need to leak any cosmic secrets.
"250,000 dollars, would that be acceptable? The information is worth at least 500,000, so half of that is a fair price. I will let him know as well."
What, that’s cheap? What kind of information is it?
"Of course."
"Then, I will provide information regarding a publicly traded film studio I own in Hollywood. In a little while......."
...Insider information provided directly by the owner. Truly, this is primitive, ancient capitalism.
After meeting the Kennedy father and son, the plan to enroll Sonny in the Palm Beach Gun Club proceeded smoothly. The moment I moved Mr. Hutton, one of the club's directors and its largest financial backer, the game was essentially over.
Mr. Hutton immediately convened the board of directors and lowered the minimum age for membership to 11—Sonny’s age—under the guise of "promoting youth shooting sports." Furthermore, the club quickly approved a partnership with the "Kennedy Foundation," which had been established only days prior, for its first charitable project: "Supporting Sports for Disabled Children."
Naturally, the first beneficiary of that project was Sonny Capone, who had lost the hearing in one ear.
Although a small donation was made under the pretext of maintaining the shooting range and building a new one for children, it was pocket change compared to the opportunity to handle firearms alongside the giants who moved America.
In fact, it wasn't even my money yet, anyway.
"Uncle Lee!"
At Sonny’s call, I broke from my thoughts and looked at the boy, who was holding a .22 caliber competition rifle with an excited expression. Since my father-in-law had said, "I can't go there myself, so I'm counting on you," I had come to the shooting range as Sonny’s guardian.
Hmm, is it because it’s only gentlemen here? The atmosphere is quite different from a military shooting range.
"Look at this, it’s my gun!"
"Do you like it?"
"Of course!"
In about ten years, Jay will be this cute too, right? I’m looking forward to that.
"Now that you have your own gun, and you’ll be learning manners from the instructor here, don't act recklessly from now on, okay?"
"Yes!"
And then......
After finishing my sentence, I turned my head to look at the red-haired boy holding a competition rifle: John F. Kennedy. His arms were trembling slightly, so the rifle must have been quite heavy for him. Come to think of it, I recall hearing that he was frail in his childhood.
"Mr. Kennedy?"
"Yes?"
"Even though there’s a one-year age difference, he’s still your younger brother figure, so please take good care of Sonny. It would be even better if you became close friends."
"O-of course."
"Now, gentlemen? Why don't you introduce yourselves?"
As I stepped away from the two, an awkward air hung between the boys. Jack was the first to reach out his hand.
"Nice to meet you, I’m Jack."
At those words, Sonny flinched, appearing to hesitate for a moment.
"···Nice to meet you too, I’m Sonny. Sonny Capone."
But soon, Sonny grasped his hand as if he had made up his mind, a smile blooming on his lips.
Anyway, if it turns out like this... well, my father-in-law’s wish will come true even faster. It certainly wouldn't hurt to be childhood friends with a future president.
"Now, prepare to fire! Everyone to their lanes!"
That was when the instructor shouted from behind the two boys. Soon, Sonny and Kennedy stood side-by-side at the firing line, as if they had planned it, and aimed their rifles at the targets.
Before long.
"If you’re ready, fire at will."
Bang!
I watched quietly as the two pulled their triggers at the instructor's signal.
But...
Bang! Bang!
...What the.
They’re shooting better than I thought?
Bang!
The targets were far away, so I couldn't see them clearly, but I could certainly tell that every shot Sonny fired was hitting the target.
Kennedy, who said he had already learned to shoot at home, also had decent form, but his shots were hitting the target only about half the time at best.
"That’s all for the shooting, gentlemen. Put your guns down and step away from the firing line."
While the two boys stepped back with flushed faces, the instructor inspected the firearms. Soon, when an employee brought over the two boys' target sheets.
"Mr. Capone, you hit 10 out of 10 shots. The grouping is a bit disappointing, perhaps because the sights aren't zeroed in, though."
The instructor looked at Sonny’s target sheet with an impressed expression.
"Did you say this was your first time shooting?"
"Yes......."
"Incredible. With a little more practice, you could become a great marksman. Mr. Kennedy was excellent as well, but your shots drifted a bit because the sights weren't zeroed. Let’s adjust the zeroing."
"Yes."
...I’m pretty sure he said it was his first time today, right?
Is this what they call... a bloodline thing?