Creating America: My campaign manager was Roosevelt

Chapter 147 The Dictator

Chapter 147 The Dictator (Bonus chapter for Alliance Leader "I Have a Small Courtyard in Nanjing")

In April, the chill in Pittsburgh finally began to recede from the Mononga Hilla River.

As the midterm election primary date approaches, the political pulse of the entire city is beating faster.

Leo Wallace sat at the center of power, like a patient gardener pruning the bonsai tree called Pittsburgh.

But the scissors in his hand represent power, interests, and a meticulously woven network of personnel.

Following Roosevelt's strategic blueprint, Leo began his preparations.

This is a political project that has penetrated into the very capillaries of the city.

The first step is to prepare for a "blood transfusion".

Leo knew very well that the current city council was like a tough nut to crack; he couldn't remove them immediately, but he could cultivate replacements.

Over the past period, Leo has frequently appeared at seminars at the University of Pittsburgh School of Law, public policy forums at Carnegie Mellon University, and youth leadership training programs in various communities.

He was looking for young people whose eyes shone with light, who were dissatisfied with the status quo, and who longed for change.

Seeking grassroots leaders who have influence in their communities but lack funding and platforms.

Through a non-profit program called the Pittsburgh Future Leaders Scholarship, Leo brings these young people together around him.

He offered them the opportunity to intern at the city hall, allowing them to experience real-world administrative operations.

He had Ethan teach them how to organize a campaign, how to raise funds, and how to mobilize voters.

He is training a personal guard.

Although this army is still very inexperienced, in the city council elections two years from now, they will become the sharpest knife in Leo's hands, precisely stabbing the soft spot of those disobedient old councilors.

Meanwhile, a covert manhunt for incumbent lawmakers is also underway.

Leo learned how to use the politics of grace.

Gavin Stone has hinted to Leo more than once that he wants to achieve a higher status in the business world.

Leo then signed an executive order establishing the "Pittsburgh Special Committee for Improving the Business Environment" and appointed Stone as its lifetime honorary chairman.

All commercial district redevelopment projects are nominally guided by this committee.

From then on, Stone's seat at the Chamber of Commerce dinner was moved from the second row to the first row.

His hostility towards Leo melted away amidst the champagne and compliments.

Linda Rossi has many relatives, and the newly established "Community Service Liaison Office" at the city hall needs a large number of administrative staff.

Leo had Rossi submit a long list of recommendations.

When her nephews and nieces were all receiving salaries from Leo, Rossi's voice naturally became quieter in parliament.

Pete Miller wants to upgrade the police department's equipment.

Leo specifically allocated a special fund for upgrading police equipment.

When Miller patrolled the streets in his brand-new riot control vehicle, he no longer referred to Leo as a "radical".

Moretti is very concerned about his dignity as Speaker.

So Leo established an informal "Monday Breakfast Meeting" system with him.

Every Monday morning, he would invite Moretti to his office for coffee, to "get a heads-up" before any major decisions were announced.

This made Moretti feel that he was still in control of the situation and remained the indispensable middleman.

Leo used the threads of self-interest to weave these nine councilors into a cocoon.

They thought they had gotten a good deal, but in reality, they had become parasites dependent on Leo as their host.

Finally, there is the restructuring of the structure.

This is the most hidden and also the most complex part.

Ethan, at Leo's behest, is building an administrative maze.

They have revised the guidelines for writing fiscal budgets.

The originally clear and concise categories such as "road maintenance" and "park construction" have been replaced with a series of grand and vague concepts such as "urban infrastructure resilient maintenance fund" and "community ecological resilience enhancement plan".

The city council approved these concepts and these huge pools of funds.

But the specifics of how the money is spent, where it is spent, and when it is spent are entirely in Leo's hands.

They established the "Pittsburgh Regeneration Executive Board".

This is a special agency that reports directly to the mayor, standing above the traditional Public Works Bureau and Planning Bureau, and coordinating the execution of all major projects.

Ethan gradually separated personnel, procurement, and approval powers from the old bureaucracy and transferred them to this new agency through a series of complex administrative authorization documents.

Those former bureau chiefs still sit in their spacious offices and still receive high salaries, but they are surprised to find that their desks are becoming cleaner and cleaner, their files are becoming fewer and fewer, and their phones are no longer ringing incessantly.

They were sidelined.

Power, like water, flowed into the new channels that Leo had designed.

This city is gradually becoming Leo Wallace's city all by himself.

However, all of this Leo did was not to sit in that chair and enjoy the cheap pleasures of being a dictator.

He cleared the weeds in order to plant seeds.

He consolidated power in order to create a fulcrum powerful enough to move the entire Rust Belt.

In his mind, there was always an industrial map of Pennsylvania.

Pittsburgh was just the beginning.

His gaze had long since crossed the Monongahira River and the Allegheny Mountains, settling on the brother cities scattered across this land, all struggling in decline.

He wanted to use Pittsburgh, this heart that was beating anew, to pump blood and awaken the entire necrotic body.

He's going to play a bigger game.

Two weeks later, in the Mononga Hilla Valley.

A heavy-duty crawler crane is slowly lifting a 20-meter-long I-beam, suspending it in mid-air, and then, under the guidance of a whistle and flag signals, precisely lowering it into the designated base.

"Clang!"

The dull thud made the ground beneath their feet tremble.

Dust flew everywhere.

Leo, wearing a bright orange reflective vest and a white hard hat, stood on the command platform at the edge of the construction site.

Ethan stood beside him, and even on the construction site, the chief of staff still tried to maintain the demeanor of a Washington elite, constantly dusting himself off.

"They're here."

Ethan reminded him, pointing towards the entrance to the construction site.

Leo looked up.

Through the billowing dust, he saw a black convoy approaching along the newly paved temporary road.

Those were five full-size Chevrolet SUVs.

These vehicles are usually standard equipment for government officials during inspections.

The convoy came to a stop below the command platform.

The car door opened.

A group of middle-aged men dressed in dark suits, overcoats, and leather shoes came down.

These individuals are the mayors of seven major industrially declining cities in western and central Pennsylvania.

They were the other survivors of this rusty area.

Or rather, other strugglers.

The man at the front was burly with a full head of silver hair. Although he was old, he still maintained a soldier-like upright posture.

Ron Smith.

Mayor of Erie.

He was a traditional Republican, conservative, stubborn, and represented the white blue-collar workers on the shores of Lake Erie who had worked for generations in machine tool factories and shipyards.

His city is experiencing its coldest winter yet, and the last major machine tool factory just announced layoffs last month.

Following behind him was a slightly overweight man wearing gold-rimmed glasses, who looked like a university professor or accountant.

Joe Byers.

Mayor of Scranton.

He was a typical moderate Republican, cautious and adept at maneuvering between various departments in Harrisburg, the state capital, like a beggar pleading for a meager budget for his city.

The other mayors also had their own distinct characteristics, but they all wore the same expression:

Doubt, wariness, and a hint of barely concealed jealousy.

This kind of gathering is strange.

According to Pennsylvania political conventions, such intercity mayoral meetings should typically be convened by the governor or the leader of the state legislature in a conference room in Harrisburg.

Everyone sat in a room with a red carpet, drinking Evian water, discussing some regional cooperation documents that would never be implemented.

But today, the invitation was extended by a young mayor who has been in office for less than six months.

The location was a noisy, dirty, and dangerous construction site.

In official circles, this is called "usurpation".

Leo Wallace did not have the administrative power to order these mayors, who were his peers.

Legally speaking, they have no obligation to attend the invitation, and could even throw it in the trash and laugh at the young man's arrogance.

But they still came.

The reason is simple: self-interest.

Erie's steel plants are working overtime to produce I-beams for Pittsburgh, while cement trucks from Scranton are steadily heading to the South Side construction site.

Their fiscal revenue and their city's employment rate are now tightly attached to the five-hundred-million-dollar veins of Pittsburgh.

They knew very well that the five hundred million dollars would eventually be drained.

But now that we've taken the money, we have to give them face.

Add to that the curiosity about the "Pittsburgh Miracle".

They all wanted to see for themselves what this young man, who was defying the odds in the rusty belt, was really up to.

So, they went with the flow.

This tacit approval allowed Leo to essentially position himself as a "regional leader."

Leo handed the blueprints to Ethan, then strode down from the command platform and went straight to meet him.

"Welcome, gentlemen."

Leo's voice was loud as he extended his hand to the newcomer.

"Welcome to Pittsburgh Inland Harbor."

Ron Smith stopped in his tracks, glanced at Leo's dirty hand, hesitated for a moment, and then shook it.

He looked around at the bustling construction site, at the dozens of cranes, and at the workers who were as numerous as ants.

Finally, his gaze fell on Leo's face.

"Mayor Wallace."

Smith's voice was cold and hard.

"You called us from hundreds of miles away to this godforsaken place just to show us this?"

Smith pointed to the crane behind him that was hoisting steel beams.

"Are you trying to show off your good luck to us? Or do you want us to see firsthand how you spent the five hundred million dollars you swindled from Washington?"

"If it's about showing off, I think I've seen enough. Yili also has construction sites, although not as big as this, but we've seen cranes there too."

Several Republican mayors nearby let out a low murmur of agreement.

Joe Byers adjusted his glasses and tried to smooth things over.

"Ron, don't say that. Leo just wanted to share his experience." Byers turned to Leo. "However, Mayor, it's really too noisy here. Could we find a quiet place to sit down and talk? Like City Hall?"

"No."

Leo refused.

"We are not going back to City Hall."

"Let's talk right here."

Leo turned around and took a stack of brand-new white safety helmets from a box next to him.

He walked up to Smith and handed him a safety helmet.

"Put it on, Mayor Smith."

Smith frowned and didn't answer.

"It's the rule." Leo stared into his eyes. "On my construction site, if you don't want your head to explode, you have to wear this, whether you're the mayor or a porter."

The two stared at each other for a few seconds.

Smith snorted and grabbed the helmet, putting it on his head.

Leo then distributed the hats to the others.

Once the group of mayors in suits had all put on their helmets and seemed to have blended in a little, Leo spoke again.

"Mayor Smith, you just asked me if I was trying to show off."

Leo pointed to the huge steel beam that had just been installed.

"Please take a closer look at that steel beam."

Smith looked in the direction he was pointing.

It was a standard H-shaped heavy-duty steel beam, coated with anti-rust paint, which gleamed coldly in the sunlight.

"It has the serial number and the manufacturer's logo printed on it."

"Leo said."

"Yili United Steel Company, Third Rolling Mill, Batch No. 995365".

Smith nodded slightly.

Of course he knew about this factory.

That was one of the few remaining large manufacturing companies in Erie, and just last month, due to insufficient orders, the factory almost announced that it would furlough a third of its workers without pay.

He was so worried about this matter that his hair turned white in the city hall, but he was helpless.

"And over there."

Leo turned and pointed to piles of cement bags stacked on the riverbank.

"Scranton high-grade cement, that's Mayor Byers' territory."

Leo continued to point out the supplies on the construction site.

"The components of those glass curtain walls came from a specialty glass factory in Johnstown."

"The gravel used to lay the foundation came from quarries deep in the Allegheny Mountains."

"The ventilation ducts being installed come from a hardware processing center in Newcastle."

Leo lowered his hand.

He watched as the mayors' expressions gradually changed.

"I called you here not to show off how much money I have."

"I want you to see for yourselves what the future will look like if our cities stop going it alone and if we connect our resources."

Leo's voice became steady and powerful.

I bought your product.

"Because I bought steel from Yili, there were no layoffs at Yili's steel rolling mill this month, so the workers there can receive their full wages and go to the supermarket on weekends to shop and pay their rent."

"Because I bought cement from Scranton, the cement plants in Scranton had to work overtime, and that gave truck drivers jobs."

That's all I wanted to say.

Leo took a step forward, closing in on Smith.

"Mayor Smith, do you think this is showing off?"

"This is survival."

"This $500 million is indeed Pittsburgh's debt. But once this money is spent, it no longer belongs solely to Pittsburgh."

"It flows into your cities, into your factories, and into the pockets of your citizens."

"On this construction site, every roar means that a family in Erie has kept their job, and that a child in Scranton has paid for their school fees."

Silence fell over the room.

Only the sound of a pile driver in the distance continued rhythmically, "thump, thump, thump," like the beating of a giant heart.

Ron Smith looked at the steel beam.

He knew what those several thousand tons of steel meant to Yili.

That means a way out.

"You—" Smith's voice was a little hoarse, "Why do you want to buy from us? You can buy from abroad, or even from Morganfield's warehouse, which would be cheaper."

"Because we are the same kind of people."

"Leo replied."

"We are all forgotten people."

"The elites in Philadelphia look down on us, and the bureaucrats in Washington see us as a burden."

"If we don't help each other out, then no one will care whether we live or die."

Leo looked at everyone present.

"I have a plan."

"A plan that is not just about Pittsburgh, but about all of us."

"I want to start a Pennsylvania industrial renaissance alliance."

"We want to connect our industrial chain and integrate our market."

"From now on, Pittsburgh projects will only use Erie's steel, and Erie's infrastructure will only use Scranton's cement. We'll operate internally, and we'll support each other."

"We need to build our own economic barriers in the Rust Belt."

"Anyone who wants to do business here has to follow our rules."

Joe Byers rubbed his hands together excitedly: "Does this comply with state regulations? Isn't this considered local protectionism? Will Harrisburg agree to this?"

Fuck Harrisburg.

"Leo said coldly."

"Where is Harrisburg when our factories close? Where is the state government when our workers lose their jobs?"

"Now that we've found a way to survive, why should we still ask them for approval?"

"Moreover, we are taking advantage of the federal opportunity zone policy, and we are responding to Washington's call for supply chain security."

Leo glanced at Ethan.

Ethan immediately added, "It's perfectly legal. Under Pennsylvania's Intergovernmental Cooperation Act, local governments have the right to sign mutual assistance agreements to jointly exercise procurement and economic development powers without state legislature approval."

Leo looked back at the mayors.

"Gentlemen, you now have two paths before you."

"The first option is to continue as before, fighting your own battles. Go line up in the corridors of Harrisburg, beg the governor for a little budget, and watch your city die little by little."

"The second way."

Leo pointed to the ground beneath his feet.

"Join this alliance."

"We stick together and keep warm."

"In this cold winter, only by sticking together can we survive."

"This $500 million is just the beginning."

"If Murphy is elected senator, he will bring this model to Washington and bring back more money and more projects."

"At that time, it won't just be Pittsburgh that benefits, but the entire industrial belt of western Pennsylvania."

Ron Smith remained silent for a long time.

He looked at the mayor, who was forty years younger than him, and at the young man whose eyes burned with ambition.

He suddenly realized that this young man was not just building a port.

He wanted to establish an industrial kingdom independent of Philadelphia and Harrisburg, belonging to the Rust Belt.

The risk is too great.

This is not only cross-party cooperation, but also a blatant challenge to the authority of the state government.

If he joins, and Harrisburg blames him in the future, or the Republican state commissioners impeach him, his political career may come to an end.

However, Smith turned and glanced at the steel beam that was engraved with the words "United Erie Steel".

If we reject Leo now, Erie's steel mill will close next month, and two thousand families will lose their income.

At that point, angry voters won't care whether he's a loyal Republican or not; they'll just want to oust him from office.

The lesser of two evils.

As long as we can bring jobs back to Yili, that's the best protection.

Even if the state party holds him accountable, he can stand tall and say: I am serving my constituents, I am saving American manufacturing.

Faced with this reason, partisan strife must give way.

Moreover, it's only a verbal expression of intent at this point.

As a veteran of decades in politics, the first priority is to create the right atmosphere and capitalize on this wave of benefits. As for the specific contract terms, there's plenty of time to work them out later.

He doesn't need to disrupt this harmonious atmosphere now.

"Mayor Wallace."

Smith gently brushed the dust off his trousers, his previously tense expression relaxing into a bitter smile.

"Yili's factories are really on the verge of collapse."

"If this order can save it, if it can ensure my citizens have food to eat this winter."

"I'd be happy to work with you."

Smith stepped forward, raising his voice slightly, as if addressing everyone around him.

"After all, we are serving the people. It has nothing to do with whether we are elephants or donkeys. It's a business about survival."

Smith extended his hand.

"As long as your order is genuine, Yili is your ally."

Leo grasped that hand.

Next up is Joe Byers.

Then came the mayor of Johnstown, and the mayor of Altuna.

Seven hands were stacked together.

Leo looked at these people.

He knew he had just completed an important puzzle.

He not only secured a stable supply chain for Pittsburgh, but also brought in a powerful ground force for Murphy's Senate campaign.

These mayors are his agents throughout the state.

In order to retain these orders, they will mobilize voters in their cities to support the senator candidate who can bring them benefits.

Thank you everyone.

Leo released his grip.

"Now, let's go to the shed for a hot coffee and talk about the details of the next procurement contract."

The mayors' expressions instantly became lively.

contract.

This is the word they most want to hear.

They surrounded Leo and led him to the temporary meeting room next door.

At that moment, Leo, who was walking at the front, no longer seemed like a young junior, but more like a leader.

Leo could clearly feel the gazes falling on his back.

It contained scrutiny, astonishment, and even a hint of fear of some enormous being that was being born.

These old foxes, who have spent half their lives navigating the treacherous waters of officialdom, actually know better than anyone what Leo is up to.

By forcibly binding them together through economic interests, they bypassed Harrisburg's administrative jurisdiction and established an independent industrial alliance.

This is not just about doing business; it's about building a "state within a state."

They might be thinking to themselves, "Has this young man gone mad? Has his ambition swelled to the point where he wants to become the dictator of western Pennsylvania?"

But Leo didn't care.

He doesn't need their understanding, much less their moral approval.

As long as they bow down to those contracts, as long as they choose to compromise for survival.

Then, the ultimate goal—to let the rusted belt breathe again and for the workers to live with dignity again—will be achieved.

To get this rusted, broken machine running again, a dictator is needed to forcefully press the switch.

Then he will become the dictator.

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