The Fall of a Giant (2)
March 4, 1925.
The new term of reelected President Warren G. Harding began.
And less than a week later, Harding died.
According to the flood of reports that followed his death, Harding had already been suffering from fatigue and declining health for several years. However, he had been forced to travel across the entire United States for various campaign tours, and it was widely speculated that this had been a major cause of his death.
In this shocking situation—the death of a sitting president—the person who benefited the most was Vice President Calvin Coolidge, who rose to become the new President of the United States.
"Now that's some incredible luck."
"Who could've expected someone to just drop dead like that?"
Curtis let out a hollow laugh, as if dumbfounded.
"Washington is crawling with politicians clawing at anything just to become president… and this guy ends up becoming one like he's buying bread at a bakery."
"Then why didn't you become vice president?"
"Are you insane? Why would I do something like that?"
'Something like that,' he says.
To be fair, that's what the vice presidency is like. From my perspective, the role is basically a human totem.
The vice president has virtually no real authority. Didn't even Thomas R. Marshall get sidelined during Woodrow Wilson's administration? In the first place, the president doesn't really interact with the vice president much, so getting excluded is almost inevitable.
So from the perspective of a seasoned and powerful senator like Curtis, how insignificant must the vice presidency seem?
Especially since, during the last election, Curtis had bet on Harding and hit the jackpot.
He pushed through legislation granting U.S. citizenship to Native Americans, built a decent record with matters like US MILK, and—reluctantly, at my persistent urging—put in some effort regarding immigration laws as well.
"I was planning to run in the next election too, but things have gotten complicated."
"How so?"
"If Coolidge isn't incompetent, he'll govern well for four years and then run for reelection with the advantage of incumbency. And beating an incumbent president isn't easy."
Even the phrase "give him another chance" applies to someone you dislike—so how much more for someone who's done well?
"I'll have to wait another four years."
"Um… do you really have to become president?"
"You've been saying strange things lately. This isn't about simple ambition. We need to set a precedent—that people of color can reach the White House."
His resolve was as solid as steel.
Damn it… I need to stop him, but I can't.
If things continue like this, it's a straight path to the Great Depression. He'll be ruined—no, worse, immortalized in history for all the wrong reasons.
What am I supposed to do?
There's still some time left… but this is giving me a headache.
***
The 1920s—the era of Harding and Coolidge.
The economy surged, and people threw themselves into consumption without restraint.
"Does your mouth smell like a sewer?"
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<"Doctor, I want to live to be 100."
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I'm no economist. If you ask me why the Great Depression happened—or how to prevent it—I'd rather just choose death.
But one thing was certain…
All the signs felt very familiar.
After returning from my tour across Asia, I found that in just a few years, something close to madness had spread across the entire United States.
An economic recovery is a good thing.
Consumption is a virtue, and saving is foolish. Saving money? Why? If you have spare cash, you should be investing in stocks, you fool.
The American Dream is the story of success. Salesmen and corporations are the United States. Therefore, anything that obstructs business or promotion is a sin.
Newspapers, gentlemen puffing cigars—everyone, without exception, was spouting the same rhetoric.
The more people I met, the stronger my unease became.
And when I met Edsel Ford, that vague anxiety of mine finally reached its peak.
"Jin, it's been a while since that damned trip to Japan."
"How was Joseon? As you know, I'm not exactly in a position to set foot there."
"A man of Korean descent who can't go to Korea… what a shame. I'll tell you what I saw instead."
After chatting for a while, the rapidly rising competitor—General Motors—became our main topic.
"It's funny for me to say this, but my father is… very old-fashioned."
"You're calling Henry Ford old-fashioned? Even a passing dog would laugh at that."
"Hah! A dog might actually be smarter. During last year's election, the whole country suddenly started shouting 'Henry Ford for President!' The same bastards who mocked him during that Chicago Tribune lawsuit suddenly started kissing up like crazy. How is that any better than a dog?"
He vented for a moment, then sighed and returned to the topic.
"You know that 'Mustang' we discussed? It's been selling pretty well. But those GM bastards brought out a new weapon and are devouring the entire market."
"A new weapon? A new model?"
"Not a model—a new sales method. Installment plans. You get the car first, then pay monthly with interest."
Edsel kindly explained this revolutionary method to me, but come on—like I wouldn't know. Koreans are basically born to hand their salaries over to credit card companies.
"My father absolutely refuses to allow it. He keeps shouting, 'What if all those people go bankrupt?'"
"Well… he's not wrong."
"Not wrong? In an economic boom like this, what is there to worry about going bankrupt?"
No.
It's going to collapse.
Not just collapse—catastrophically. Everything will be reduced to dust.
"He keeps stubbornly insisting on that outdated layaway system, so I hear nothing but complaints from dealers every single day. In fact, dealers have already started partnering with finance companies on their own to offer installment plans.
In that sense, I envy you. No one's going to buy card packs on installments."
Layaway was a fairly common system at the time.
Take Ford Motor Company for example. If you signed a contract to buy a Model T, you would pay a fixed amount weekly by mail.
Doesn't sound that different? The key difference is—you don't get the car until you've fully paid it off. Only after 100% payment can you finally take possession. Some companies even charged storage fees until completion.
Of course, those fees weren't that different from installment interest, but the gap between getting the car now versus waiting until full payment was something even Edsel Ford couldn't overcome.
"Edsel."
"Ah, I get it. You're from a… more conservative environment. But if we don't act aggressively now, we're finished!"
"Listen. I'm willing to bet my entire fortune that the economy will go to hell within five years."
At my blunt declaration, he opened his mouth to respond—then closed it again.
After a long pause, he finally spoke.
"What's your reasoning?"
"Just… a gut feeling."
"And that gut feeling couldn't predict the earthquake?"
"Doesn't it feel strange? Do you really think this prosperity will last forever? I've been out of the country for years, and what I'm seeing now… it's not normal."
"You sound like those old church conservatives. Every time they open their mouths, they say divine punishment will fall upon this Sodom and Gomorrah. You're not attending some strange church, are you?"
I wasn't particularly religious or fundamentalist, but honestly, America right now wouldn't be wrong to be called Sodom and Gomorrah.
"When something as shameless as those 'petting parties' becomes trendy, I'd say maybe divine punishment wouldn't be undeserved. I even had to look up the term in a dictionary when I saw an invitation to one of those damned parties!"
"Look at this rigid soldier. You're not even religious, and suddenly you've become a moralist… though I suppose you've always been devoted to your wife."
"Of course I am. If Dorothy ever went to one of those things, I'd bite my tongue and die. We have Henry and Alice at home, and she's supposed to go out and fool around with those degenerates? Over my dead body—"
"Alright, alright, calm down."
Just thinking about it makes my insides burn. It's not just that they're insane—it's that people justify it as 'the spirit of the times.' That's what really drives me mad.
"Anyway, I agree with your father. Installment plans are dangerous. We don't know how long this boom will last. The moment the indicators reverse, the tower of sales built on credit will collapse."
"That may be true. But all profit comes with risk.
Fine—let's say we don't adopt installment plans. And the economy crashes in five years? What's the point of that if General Motors conquers the market before then? We'll already be finished!"
Even someone like Edsel was completely captivated by the allure of installment sales.
That alone told me everything I needed to know.
The Great Depression was unavoidable.
Economic downturns and recessions always exist in capitalism—but what turned it into the unprecedented disaster known as the Great Depression was American society itself.
Whether it was a great war hero or someone making money off card games, no one had the power to stop this massive tide of destruction.
***
After I officially began my duties as an aide-de-camp, one of the first things I did was check up on where everyone else had ended up.
Honestly, while I was in the Philippines, just hearing news was a blessing. And after returning, I had been too busy selling that damned card game.
Ike and James were in Panama, working under Fox Conner.
I had heard plenty about General Conner and even met him before. During the Great War, he had worked on operations in Chaumont and had been none other than Marshall's superior. If Marshall respected him that much, he must be exceptional. And yet, the Chief of Staff Drum had managed to sideline even someone like him… perhaps Drum was an extraordinary figure in his own right.
Omar had gone to the Infantry School at Fort Benning. Alongside Leavenworth, it was one of the key training institutions for army officers—a great move for his career.
And the source of my headaches and stomachaches—Lord Patton, the berserker from the Middle Ages—had gone to Leavenworth. Heh, instead of swinging stone axes, he now had to study again. That must be driving him mad.
Douglas MacArthur had made history as the youngest major general and was probably packing his bags to return from the Philippines.
And before he even made it back, a letter from him arrived.
—It seems a friend of mine has gotten into a bit of trouble. If you have time, could you meet Billy Mitchell? He's a bit hot-tempered, but he's smart—you two should get along well.
And the very next day after receiving that letter, I heard the same name from Chief of Staff Hines.
"Do you know a man named Billy Mitchell?"
"Who doesn't? He's the most famous figure in the Air Service."
"No personal connection?"
"None, sir."
"Then go immediately and shut that bastard up. That lunatic is dragging the Army's reputation through the mud!"
…Wow, this man really enjoys playing with fire.
Just what kind of life is he living?
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