Forging America: My Campaign Manager is Roosevelt

Chapter 296 - 147: Declaration of Independence

Leo’s finger crossed the state line and tapped on the map of Ohio.

"Youngstown, Cleveland, even Wheeling in West Virginia."

"The factories there are starving just the same, and their mayors are just as worried about jobs."

"If I called the mayor of Youngstown and told him I had a thirty million US Dollar steel order, how do you think he’d respond?"

"Would he ask if I’m a Democrat or a Republican? Would he worry about scrutiny from the State Government?"

"He’d drive over here immediately, even if he had to knock on my door in the middle of the night. He’d bring his union president, bring his contract, and treat me like a god."

"Because he wants his city to survive."

Leo’s gaze turned sharp as a knife, sweeping over everyone present.

"Gentlemen, this is a five hundred million US Dollar cake. It’s a big cake, but it’s finite. Pittsburgh can’t eat it all, but we certainly won’t beg you to take a piece."

"If you’re not at the table, you’re on the menu."

"If Erie’s steel mills go under, it won’t be because of a bad market. It will be because you pushed a life-saving order to the Ohioans."

"When that time comes, your constituents will be watching the factories in the next state over working overtime, watching their workers collect paychecks from Pittsburgh, while they themselves are on welfare."

"How do you plan to explain that to them?"

"Tell them it’s to maintain party purity? Tell them it’s to follow the rules from Harrisburg?"

"Good luck with that."

This was a naked threat.

Leo had placed both the carrot and the stick on the table.

Take the carrot, and they would all get rich together, fighting the State Government as one.

Refuse the carrot, and they could wait to be bled dry by the surrounding cities, to be driven from office by angry constituents.

Fear.

That was the most effective adhesive in politics.

The fear of being marginalized, the fear of being surpassed by competitors, the fear of being abandoned by their constituents.

This fear overwhelmed their apprehension of Warren and their concerns about the law.

Ron Smith’s hand trembled.

He stared at the jarring red circle on the map.

He knew the situation in Youngstown all too well. The city was less than a hundred miles from Erie, and its factories were in direct competition.

If this order really went to Youngstown, Erie’s steel industry would be finished.

He couldn’t bear that responsibility.

"Damn it."

Smith swore under his breath.

He snatched the coffee cup from the table, drained it in one gulp, and slammed it back down.

"Leo, you son of a bitch."

Smith looked up, his eyes fierce.

"You win."

"I don’t care what that old bastard Warren thinks, and I don’t care what those useless idiots at the state party headquarters are squawking about."

"Erie’s factories cannot close."

"That order must stay in Erie."

Smith reached out, grabbed the "Regional Economic Mutual Assistance Memorandum," pulled a pen from his pocket, and signed his name.

The sound of the pen tip tearing across the paper was exceptionally harsh in the quiet conference room.

It was the first crack in the breaking dam.

Once there was a first, a second was sure to follow.

Joe Byers sighed and also picked up his pen.

"Scranton’s in," he said resignedly. "If I let the Ohioans snatch the cement order, the Union guys would tear my office apart."

The Mayor of Johnston, the Mayor of Altoona, the Mayor of Newcastle...

One after another.

Seven mayors, seven cities.

Driven by self-interest, pressured by the need to survive, they bowed their heads before the grand blueprint Leo Wallace had constructed.

They signed the memorandum—a document with no legal force, yet more binding than any law.

It was a pledge of allegiance, and also a declaration of independence.

The Rust Belt of Western Pennsylvania—this forgotten, disdained, and divided industrial wasteland—was, in this moment, reconnected by a golden chain.

They were an alliance.

A massive political entity with a complete industrial chain, a population of millions, and enough power to sway the entire state’s election results.

Leo looked at the document filled with signatures, but the expected smile did not appear on his face.

He only felt a deep exhaustion, and an even heavier sense of responsibility.

He had tied all these men to his war chariot.

Now, he had to drive that chariot through the minefield ahead.

"A pleasure doing business with you, gentlemen."

Leo put the document away and handed it to Ethan, who was beside him.

"Tell the factories in Erie and Scranton they can start warming up the machines."

"Our truck fleet is already on its way."

The mayors all rose to their feet.

At this moment, the way they looked at Leo had changed.

It was the deference one shows to the strong.

This young man had accomplished what they had wanted to do for decades but never dared.

He had taken a tray of loose sand and molded it into a fist.

"Leo," Smith said, giving Leo one last look before leaving. "I hope you know where you’re leading us."

"Of course I do."

Leo replied calmly.

"Toward survival."

"Toward a future where we call the shots."

The conference room emptied.

Leo walked to the window and looked outside.

On the construction sites of the South District, massive cranes turned slowly, as if paying homage to the city.

’Mr. President,’ Leo said in his mind, ’we have an army.’

Roosevelt’s voice rang out, filled with gratification.

"Yes, my boy."

"You not only have an army, you also have territory."

"Look at this map."

Roosevelt seemed to be guiding Leo’s gaze.

"The Pennsylvania Industrial Revival Alliance."

"That’s a wonderful name."

"But it has a deeper meaning."

"This isn’t just a supply chain collective; it’s a demonstration of power aimed at Harrisburg and Washington."

"You’re telling them: Since you won’t take care of us, we’ll take care of ourselves."

"You are building a new order."

"An order based on production, on labor, on real economic interests."

"An order like that is ten thousand times more solid than any castle in the sky built on slogans and ideology."

Roosevelt paused for a moment.

"Now, the ship has been launched."

"Everyone is on board."

"From now on, there’s only one thing you need to do."

"Hold the rudder steady."

"Don’t let this ship capsize."

"Because now, you’re not the only one on this ship."

"The fate of all of Western Pennsylvania is on board as well."

Leo gazed out the window at the river surging forward.

The Monongahela River flows into the Ohio River, then rushes toward the Mississippi, and finally merges with the sea.

The current is unstoppable.

Just like the torrent of this era.

He was already standing at the head of the tide.

There was no retreat.

Only forward.