At this moment, Central Park wasn't in a particularly good state. The main reason was that the New York city authorities believed it too extravagant to pour more money into maintenance after the park had already been completed. After all, even the city's bigwigs had a hard time skimming off the budget.
This was easy enough to understand—politicians throughout history and across cultures are the same: anything that doesn't generate profit is the first to be abandoned. Land that doesn't yield high taxes is the first to be sold off. So, a place like Central Park that didn't bring in revenue naturally fell into neglect.
Still, this was the largest park in all of Manhattan. As long as its framework remained, it continued to be one of the finest places in New York City for rest and relaxation. Plus, there was a big lake in the center, which offered a much-needed cool respite in the summer heat of the city.
The waiter at the café noticed Wilkie's well-maintained face and elegant attire and immediately recognized him as someone of status. Without delay, he served a glass of iced lemon water, and didn't rush them to order, his demeanor quite courteous.
"What would you like to drink?" Niall asked Frederick, handing him a simple one-page menu.
"Iced coffee and a sandwich—extra ham." Frederick was still observing Wilkie. Normally composed and calm, Wilkie was now mumbling to himself like someone under a spell.
"And you?" Niall turned to Wilkie's assistant.
"Coffee with milk and sugar," the assistant replied with a smile. He too was surprised to see his normally composed boss so rattled.
Niall signaled the waiter and handed over the menu with a one-dollar silver certificate tucked inside. He also ordered an iced coffee and a croissant for himself. The waiter, recognizing the group as wealthy clients, smiled professionally and promised the food would arrive shortly.
Wilkie, his throat parched and scratchy, quickly gulped down a large mouthful of iced coffee as soon as it was placed in front of him. He looked slightly more refreshed.
It was obvious he was still deep in thought about the future. Niall didn't bother him. Instead, he calmly sliced his croissant in half for easier eating and gestured politely to Wilkie's assistant, who declined with a wave and quietly stirred milk into his coffee.
"I need another one," said Frederick, having devoured his sandwich in just a few bites.
That was understandable—the sandwich was quite small, likely tailored for leisurely tourists or Columbia University students from nearby. These weren't laborers with big appetites like Frederick. And of course, prices in New York couldn't compare to the rural Brook County, where a ham-loaded sandwich cost just a few coins.
"Make that two," Wilkie suddenly snapped his fingers with a smile, seemingly recovered from his daze.
"How are you feeling?" Niall asked, putting down his croissant with a grin.
"Your idea is constructive. I think I might give it a try."When someone suddenly realizes they might have a shot at claiming a throne, most will at least test the waters.
Especially when Niall had offered such a noble justification—preserving the Republican Party's strength during its downfall, in preparation for a possible comeback in four or eight years.
This isn't for my own benefit, Wilkie could think, it's for the Republican Party I deeply love!
"Hahaha... That's good news for you, and good news for the Republican Party," Niall offered a flattering laugh.
"No, no, not good news yet. I still have concerns."
"Go on."
Clearly, Wilkie hadn't just been daydreaming—he'd been weighing his strengths and weaknesses and considering the state of the party. And naturally, he had concluded that the Republican Party was in shambles, on the brink of collapse.
"The public is losing faith in the Party. If I step forward now, won't I also become a target of their anger?" Wilkie said, lifting his coffee and taking just a small sip this time.
"Exactly."
Everyone knew that public resentment toward Hoover had reached its peak. His name had become synonymous with failure and was widely despised.
People called the makeshift shelters made of tin cans, cardboard, and burlap sacks "Hoovervilles." Entire shantytowns composed of these were "Hoover Cities." The poor carried their belongings in bags they called "Hoover Bags." In rural areas, old cars had their front ends chopped off and were pulled by scrawny mules—"Hoover Wagons."Homeless people sleeping on park benches used old newspapers as blankets—"Hoover Blankets."When they turned out their empty pockets, they called it "Hoover Flags."When farmers caught rabbits for food, they nicknamed them "Hoover Hogs."President Hoover himself was dubbed "The Hunger President."
Because of Hoover's disastrous governance, the Republican Party's reputation nationwide was in ruins. Most Republican officials were seen as hopelessly corrupt, incompetent, and out of touch.
If Wilkie were to step into the public eye now, trying to rally the younger generation and consolidate strength within the party, no matter what he did later, he'd inevitably be associated with incompetence and greed. The public simply wouldn't trust him.
If he wanted to enter politics as a Republican now, it was certainly not the right time.
"If public scrutiny is inevitable," said Niall, "then we should show them only the best, most capable side of you."
And he gave an example that everyone knew—Dewey.
He was a Republican too, but to the people of New York, he was a model politician, a good official, a man who fought evil on behalf of the people. So many mobsters and criminals had been thrown in jail by him that he'd built a strong and positive public persona, earning wide support.
It was too late for Wilkie to copy Dewey's path now—he didn't have the background for crime-fighting, nor would it suit him.His strengths were in taxation, contracts, business management, and trade.
So trying to play the mob-busting hero would be unoriginal and unconvincing.
Instead, his persona should be built around his actual strengths—and that image should be something the people need and hope for.
Economics.
The Great Depression had made Americans desperate for a president who could bring back prosperity through solid financial leadership. Roosevelt had ridden that wave of sentiment with his "New Deal" and been swept into office.
"That's why I said—you not only should open that wholesale supermarket, you should open it as soon as possible!"
It was a simple equation: if he could provide the people of New York with food security and economic convenience, and couple that with his naturally down-to-earth image, then even as a Republican, the public's perception of him could shift in a positive direction.