To be fair, this period of time saw American farmers at their most combative and simultaneously most resentful of both capitalism and bureaucratic systems. If there had been a brilliant leader who could unite the twenty million farmers across the country, it was not impossible to create a revolutionary movement.
What a pity...
It was indeed a great pity!
Niall felt that he didn't have the ability to make such a fundamental change, and beyond sighing, he couldn't come up with a better solution. Of course, if such a great man were to emerge, Niall might give him his full support and assist him, contributing his modest effort to the great cause.
Ah, but discussing these things was ultimately pointless. Setting aside the issue of the farming associations, the family enjoyed a warm and peaceful dinner. Little sister Debbie had started ninth grade. The family also asked her whether she wanted to continue high school. If she did, Niall would certainly support her, and they would figure out a way for college later.
If she had already found a boy she liked in school, that would also be a good thing. Seventeen might still seem young for marriage in the future, but it was quite an appropriate age in the present time.
The little girl was shy and didn't respond when the family asked, so they decided to wait and see.
The next day, Niall filled up the gas tank of his Indian motorcycle, put on a thick cotton coat, wrapped himself in a wool scarf and gloves, and revved up the engine to head to the neighboring town of Mannington. Initially, Patrick had offered to drive Niall there in his Ford pickup truck, but the family had an important task of making sausages.
With the cold weather and the family having a refrigerator, the meat still needed to be processed right away. The sausages would last for half a year or even a year, and if they didn't prepare them now, they would have no homemade sausages next year.
Patrick thought the same way and realized he might not be much help anyway. However, if a fight broke out, Niall would definitely bring his older brother along—if their big brother had a weapon in hand, five or eight people wouldn't be able to defeat him.
Niall, on his little motorcycle that could only go about thirty kilometers per hour, took one and a half hours to reach Mannington. His face felt stiff from the cold wind. Once he parked, he immediately entered a café to get a hot coffee to warm up.
The café was crowded with people, many of whom were red-haired or brown-haired Irish-Americans. You could tell right away by their Celtic heritage. Their Irish language, which was "hard to listen to and understand," was something that couldn't be replaced.
"Excuse me, is the person promoting the farmers' association still in town?" Niall asked an older man with a straw hat in Irish.
"Yes, yes, where are you from? I've never seen you before," the old man smiled warmly when he heard Niall speaking in Irish.
"I'm from the neighboring town of Waynesburg. I came to ask about the farmers' association."
Having the Irish language made things easier. Once people heard that Niall was Irish too, they immediately dropped several of their guard levels, making communication much easier.
"Waynesburg, huh..." The old man nodded in recognition.
"Young man, the farmers' association is full of bad people. Don't believe their nonsense," another Irishman nearby said as he joined in. The café was, after all, a place for people to chat.
Today seemed to be market day in Mannington. The street across from the café was gradually filling with ox carts and horse-drawn wagons, and several small stalls appeared. Local farmers were in town for the market, buying seasonings and salt, which were essential when they were curing meat.
"They're just insurance salespeople. They want to suck blood from us farmers," the Irishman said, nodding in agreement.
"I think your face looks familiar. Do you know anyone from the Gallagher family?" the Irishman suddenly asked.
"My name is Niall Gallagher, and my father is Ian Gallagher." The surname Gallagher wasn't too rare among Irish-Americans, but it certainly wasn't common either.
"You're Ian's son?" A gray-faced man squeezed into the café.
"Yes."
"Ah, since that incident, how has your family been?" As soon as the man mentioned this, everyone around started recalling the incident.
Several years ago, there was a huge mining disaster that killed more than seventy miners. Several counties, including this one, had casualties. Most of them had worked in the same mine and fought together against the coal mine owners, which formed a strong bond of friendship.
"Who are you? My family is doing well, and I've graduated high school," Niall said, recognizing that these were his father's old co-workers.
Everyone came forward to greet Niall, and there was no hesitation in speaking with the son of a familiar family. A whole group of uncles and grandfathers approached him, giving him a once-over to see how he had grown.
"You don't need to go looking for that farmers' association. They're just vampires. Everyone won't fall for their tricks," said one of Niall's father's co-workers.
"Yeah, yeah, don't trust them," the others agreed.
"But with the coal mines shutting down and the drought this year, the harvest is really bad. How are people going to survive?" Niall asked, as a crowd had gathered around him.
"Sigh, what can we do? The weather is always hard like this. We just have to get by," the old man with the straw hat sighed.
The café's owner, who was peeling potatoes behind the counter, opened the back door, throwing the potato skins on the ground. A flock of hens hurriedly entered and pecked at the skins. It seemed like they were protesting life's hardships too. In the past, they could eat corn kernels, but now they were only pecking at potato skins.
"Does the government offer any subsidies to farmers?" Niall asked, knowing the answer but asking nonetheless, as policies might vary from county to county.
"How could the government care about our lives?" the Irishman slammed his hand on the table.
"If next year the weather doesn't improve, and the mines are still closed, how are we going to survive?"
No one replied. The life of farmers was always this hard.
But who would care about the farmers' lives? The officials couldn't even take care of the cities, and the wages of government employees were being paid with IOUs. They were about to start issuing IOUs to the military too. How could they have the time or energy to take care of farmers and rural areas? Not increasing the exploitation was already a favor.
"Well..." Seeing the silence, Niall didn't know what else to say.
The café's radio slowly broadcasted the news that the midterm elections of 1930 would be held on November 6th, and that both the West Virginia House of Representatives and Senate seats would be up for election.
Due to President Hoover's mishandling of the economic crisis, the commentator on the radio predicted that the Democratic Party might gain more seats in the elections.