Creating America: My campaign manager was Roosevelt

Chapter 178 Wrench and Monster

The Mononga Hilla River was unusually turbulent today, with a thin layer of oil floating on its grayish-black surface.

In the distance, a huge gantry crane is hoisting containers onto a barge.

At three o'clock in the afternoon, the sun was obscured by thick clouds, and the sky appeared as a leaden gray.

Thousands of workers gathered here.

They came from Erie, from Scranton, from Johnstown, from Pittsburgh.

They wore oil-stained work clothes, different colored safety helmets, and carried wrenches, blueprints, or sandwiches they had just received from the cafeteria.

They originally belonged to different camps.

Republican Party, Democratic Party, Independent.

But today, they stand under the same flag.

It was a flag that had never appeared in Pennsylvania, or even in American political history.

The flag's background color is a steel-like gray.

Right in the center, there is a rough black wrench printed on it.

Those were the workers' tools, the builders' weapons, and the sole totem of this new alliance.

Leo Wallace stood in the center of the makeshift steel frame dance.

He was wearing a white work shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows and the collar open.

To his left is John Murphy.

The congressman, who is about to run for a Senate seat, has also taken off his expensive Washington attire and put on an ordinary jacket.

Behind them stood seven mayors from cities within the Industrial Revitalization Alliance.

Leo walked up to the microphone.

Today is the day he officially announced to the outside world that they are going to form a new party group.

From the outside perspective, this may simply be a shift in political stance.

Republicans would see them as a group of treacherous traitors.

The Democrats will see this as just another routine party-switching game.

But only Leo knew, only Roosevelt in his mind knew, that this was not a simple matter of taking sides.

Leo's heart was racing, and he tried to calm his breathing.

He knew that every word he was about to utter would become the spark that ignited this revolution.

Leo spoke slowly, his voice booming through the massive sound system, drowning out the whistles from across the river.

"Look at your feet."

Leo's first words silenced the restless crowd.

"It's soil, it's gravel, it's cement that hasn't dried yet."

"Look at the top of your heads again."

Leo pointed to the gray sky.

"It's smoke, it's exhaust fumes, it's the smell of this city breathing."

"Under this sky, on this construction site, do you feel cold?"

No one answered; only the sound of the wind could be heard.

"I'm cold."

Leo said frankly.

"I know you are also cold, I know many of you haven't paid your electricity bills yet, and I know many of you are worried about next month's rent."

"But hundreds of miles away in Washington, in that white-domed building, those big shots are telling us that what we should be concerned about now is not whether we are cold or hungry."

"They told us that what we should care about is color."

"They've labeled you."

"You're a red Republican, you're a blue Democrat."

"They tell the reds that your enemies are those blue environmental lunatics; they tell the blues that your enemies are those red barbarians with guns."

"They made you hate each other and tear each other apart."

"But I want to ask you something."

Leo suddenly raised his voice.

"When the winter wind blows through your drafty windows, will that label help keep you warm?"

"When your child is crying from hunger, can that label turn into bread?"

"When the factory gates are locked with chains, can that tag help you break the lock?"

"cannot!"

A voice called out from below.

"That's right, you can't!"

Leo responded.

"It's just a game."

"A charade played by a high-and-mighty elite, used to mock us, divide us, and make us forget who the real enemy is!" "They argue in the skyscrapers of Washington. They discuss ideologies, values, and those lofty principles written on paper." "In their eyes, partisan strife is necessary. Because it's a war of the soul, a grand debate about the direction of the nation." "But this is only the privilege of the rich."

"When you're sitting in an air-conditioned office and don't have to worry about next month's rent, you certainly have the leisure to care about those abstract concepts, and you can certainly treat politics as a decoration to display your moral superiority."

"That's a luxury item."

"It's a luxury that we, the people struggling here, can't afford."

Leo's voice suddenly turned deep, striking the hearts of everyone present.

"Look at ourselves."

"Look at this rusty land."

"We are not qualified to talk about those ideologies, and we don't have time to care about the dignity of those important figures."

"For everyone standing here, for every family still worrying about tomorrow's bread."

"We believe in only one truth."

"Survive."

"Survival is the only necessity!"

Leo paused, his gaze sweeping over the faces of those from Erie and Scranton.

Those people still harbor resentment and fear of betrayal.

"I know that some of the friends standing here today are feeling conflicted."

Leo looked at Ron Smith.

"You think, 'I'm a Democrat, how can I stand with the Republicans? Isn't that betrayal?'"

"I want to tell you."

Leo's voice became deep and powerful.

"This is not betrayal."

"This is the highest form of loyalty."

What is betrayal?

"Watching factories close down, watching communities decay, watching old neighbors forced to move away, and then standing idly by because it's partisan policy—that's real betrayal!"

"Because you betrayed your family, betrayed your community, and betrayed the land that raised you!"

What is loyalty?

"To make the chimneys smoke again, to ensure children have access to education, to ensure the elderly have access to medicine, even if it means being called a traitor, we must steal the money back—that's true loyalty!"

"That's loyalty to life!"

Leo took a step forward, approaching the edge below.

"We stand together today not because you have suddenly fallen in love with the Democratic platform, nor because I believe in Republican ideology. We are not changing our beliefs."

"We're looking for a place where our whole family can survive!"

His breathing became heavy.

Leo turned around and pointed to the gray flag behind him.

So, today, here.

"I am Leo Wallace, Mayor of Pittsburgh."

"Together with these mayors from all corners of the state."

"We are making an official announcement."

"Form the Pennsylvania Blue Collar Caucus!"

A commotion broke out in the crowd.

The term "party" usually refers only to politicians in Washington, to those who wear suits.

But now, it belongs to blue-collar workers.

Listen up!

Leo lowered his voice.

"I want you to understand one thing."

"Even now, we stand beside John Murphy. Even in the coming months, we will be campaigning for Democratic votes."

"But we are not followers of the Democratic Party."

"We are not subservient to the Republican Party either."

"We are ourselves first and foremost."

Leo slammed his hand heavily on his chest.

"We are the backbone."

"This party group, this organization that belongs to us, has its own rules and its own bottom line."

"We refuse to discuss topics that divide us."

"We don't discuss same-sex marriage; that's their freedom and has nothing to do with our daily lives."

"We don't discuss abortion; that's a matter of God and individual conscience, and it's not for politicians to interfere with."

"We don't discuss cultural issues that would only cause us to argue at the dinner table, turn brothers against each other, and make neighbors enemies."

"Those issues are traps."

Leo's eyes sharpened as he scanned the entire arena.

"That's a carefully crafted maze created by the elites living in the big cities on the East and West coasts to cover up the fact that they've plundered our wealth." "They sit in coffee shops, discussing the use of gender pronouns, how history books should be rewritten, and those ethereal rights."

"They regard these as signs of civilization."

"But here, in the valleys of Allegheny, on the shores of Lake Erie, beside the mines of Scranton."

"We don't have the luxury of caring about those things."

"We only care about the most essential things."

Leo held up three fingers.

"industry!"

"Employment!"

"Infrastructure!"

"Our program only contains these three words."

"Whoever can bring the factory back, whoever can get the blast furnace burning again, we will support them."

"We'll support whoever can make the numbers on our paychecks longer."

"We'll support whoever can fix these roads that are as bad as the surface of the moon."

"As for whether he is red or blue, left or right, or whether he believes in God or science."

"What's it to us!"

Rude language ignited dry tinder like a spark.

The workers below let out a low roar, a sense of belonging that had been suppressed for too long.

For years, they've been forced to choose between two rotten apples.

The Republicans gave them a false sense of dignity while taking away their benefits; the Democrats gave them empty promises while despising their culture. Never before had anyone so bluntly overturned the table and told them: You can trust no one, you can trust only yourselves. "We only recognize one pass."

Leo raised his hand, showing his palm.

Although the hand was young, it had become stained with indelible oil from the past few months of working on the construction site.

"That's the oil on your hands."

"No matter who you voted for in the past, no matter which church you went to on Sundays, no matter whether you supported the Steelers or the Hawks."

"As long as you still need this wrench to make a living, as long as you want to support your family with these hands, as long as your back aches every night when you come home," "you are one of us!"

"You're a brother in this party!"

"In this party group, we are the workers, we are the builders, we are the true cornerstone of this country."

Leo's voice boomed from the loudspeaker.

"Representative Murphy needs us, so we support him. This is a deal, an equal partnership, not begging, much less pledging allegiance." "If one day he betrays our interests..."

"We will not hesitate to pull him down, just as we pushed him up."

"Because we only have one person to be loyal to."

Leo pointed to each person's face.

"That's our own life."

"That is our wife, our children, our home."

"This is the pledge of the Pennsylvania Blue Collar Caucus!"

The workers looked at each other's hands.

It has oil stains, calluses, and scars.

That was their common language, a more reliable credential than any party constitution.

"Now, someone is trying to block our way."

Leo's voice turned cold.

"Someone's setting up checkpoints in Harrisburg, someone's messing around in Washington, and someone's trying to starve us with that damn compliance."

"They thought we were beggars, that we would kneel down and beg them for alms."

"They are wrong."

Leo pointed to the busy river behind him and to the cargo being loaded onto the ships.

Tell Washington.

"Without us, America wouldn't have been able to build even an inch of road!"

"Without our steel, their buildings will collapse; without our coal, their lights will go out!"

"We will not make any further requests!"

"We want to sit down at the table!"

"We want to use our steel, our resources, and our millions of votes to get the budget we need!" "You won't give it to us?"

"Then let them see what the wrath of the Rust Belt is like!"

"Then let them see what it looks like when the state apparatus stops functioning!"

The atmosphere in the square reached its peak.

The power that had been suppressed for thirty years, belonging to this class, was fully awakened at this moment.

"We are not red!"

"Leo roared."

"We are not blue!!"

"We are the gray of steel!"

"From today onward, whoever pays the workers' wages is our ally!"

"Whoever makes us starve is our mortal enemy!"

Leo swung his arm sharply, pointing at the cranes that were waiting and the trucks that were ready to depart.

"Go back to your workstations!"

"Grip your wrenches tight!"

"Start your engines!"

"Let us declare war on that arrogant old era!"

"Ugh!"

The barges on the river sounded their horns.

The cranes on the shore began to turn.

The truck's engine roared.

Thousands of workers raised their arms and shouted deafeningly.

The sound coalesced into a torrent, breaking through the clouds and rushing eastward.

Leo stood on the high ground, his chest heaving violently.

That almost roaring speech had drained every last breath of air from his lungs, and it had also ignited the tinderbox of desire within the hearts of those thousands of workers. At that very moment, a voice deep within Leo's mind suddenly erupted.

"Ha ha ha ha!"

It was a wild, exhilarating, and even somewhat unrestrained laugh.

Franklin Roosevelt is smiling.

The laughter echoed in Leo's consciousness like a sudden thunderstorm, shaking his very mind.

"Leo! Did you see that?"

"This is a repeat of 1932!"

"This is what I saw back then!"

"While those well-dressed economists were still arguing about the size of the deficit, while those conservatives were still talking about the self-correcting ability of the free market, while Hoover was still in that damned White House saying that prosperity was just around the corner."

"I went into the coal mines of Appalachia, I went into the factories of Detroit, I went into the crowds of people lining up for food aid." "I saw the exact same things you see today."

"hunger."

Roosevelt's laughter gradually subsided.

"When ideology can't put food on the table, when those lofty ideals can't be turned into coal for heating."

"Whoever can provide a job is God."

Leo stood on the platform, looking down at the rough, dirty, yet yearning faces below.

He understood what Roosevelt meant.

"They don't care who I am," Leo thought to himself. "They don't even care if I'm using them."

"That's right."

Roosevelt affirmed.

"The essence of politics is a transaction: you give them hope for survival, and they give you the scepter of power."

Roosevelt's voice carried an absolute certainty of victory.

"You win, child."

"No matter how they attack you in the media, no matter how they plot in Washington."

"As long as you hold this key called survival firmly, as long as you carry the rice bowls of millions of people on your shoulders."

"They have no chance at all."

"Now."

Roosevelt's tone became impassioned.

"Go and get John Murphy into the Senate."

"Go and set this fire burning in Harrisburg, and in Washington."

"That's our first step on the road to Rome!"

Leo took a deep breath, turned around, and looked at John Murphy standing to the side.

He walked over to Murphy, reached out, and patted his ally heavily on the shoulder.

"Your turn, Senator."

Leo's voice brought Murphy back to reality.

"Go shake hands, go hug, go tell them that you will turn that five hundred million dollars into their wages."

Murphy paused for a moment, then realized what was happening.

He rushed into the crowd, grabbed each worker's hand, shook it vigorously, and made loud promises.

"I guarantee! Every single penny will reach your hands!"

"We will build the factory!"

"To hell with those bastards in Washington!"

Murphy's shouts sparked another round of cheers from the crowd.

Leo looked at the man surrounded by the workers.

Murphy's jacket was soaked with sweat, his face was flushed, and the veins on his neck were throbbing.

He was like a foreman, like a drinking buddy who had just gotten off work and was bragging at a bar, and even more like a demagogue.

He laughed loudly, slapping the rough backs of the crowd, promising a bright future, and basking in the cheers and adoration of the throng. His eyes were filled with fanaticism, his thirst for power was completely ignited.

Standing here now is a senator candidate who would tear everything apart for victory.

"Mr. President."

Leo called out softly in his mind.

"He is ready."

Roosevelt's voice echoed deep within his consciousness.

"Yes, Leo. He's ready. This is what a gladiator who can survive in that arena should look like."

"Ambition is the best fuel. He is more dangerous and more powerful than ever before."

Leo raised his head, his gaze passing over the bustling crowd and landing in the distant east.

There are white domed buildings, marble steps, and endless intrigue and power struggles.

"We're going to send him to Rome."