Just after Niall agreed to work for Wilkie, the latter provided him with an apartment and even sent an assistant to show him around. The assistant asked if Niall needed anything—Wilkie would take care of all of it before Niall returned home. Wilkie even offered to get him a car. After all, a Ford only cost eighty or ninety bucks at the time—dirt cheap, practically being thrown away on the market.
Now, that's what you call a solid boss. Niall had just verbally accepted the job, and Wilkie had already sorted out his housing and transportation. He even asked if Niall needed anything else—whatever it was, he'd make it happen.
But Niall didn't have any big asks. No need for a car—he could just bring his own Indian motorcycle. The only thing he requested was to hire a laundress to come by every three days, collect his dirty clothes, wash and dry them, then bring them back.
At that time, most laundromats were run by Chinese immigrants. Many of them had come to America and relied on laundry work to make a modest living, eventually putting down roots in the country. The U.S. still had the Chinese Exclusion Act in place—one that wouldn't be repealed for several more years. Many Chinese immigrants were forced into jobs that white Americans didn't want—hard and dirty labor.
It's hard to even talk about such things.
Niall told the assistant to find someone honest and reliable. He'd pay for it himself, but the person had to be decent and dependable—after all, they'd be coming in and out of his home regularly. If he happened to hire someone with bad intentions, that could be dangerous for a young man living alone—he could get robbed or worse.
The assistant patted his chest and promised it was no big deal. Once he found out Niall had no other requests, he handed over the apartment keys—four copies in total. One was to be kept in Wilkie's office in case Niall ever forgot his keys. The other three went to Niall.
The assistant then sent Niall and Frederick off to the train station. Their tickets were for a private first-class cabin—not expensive, but it made Wilkie look like a thoughtful boss.
Niall handed one of the apartment keys to Frederick, so he could visit anytime he came to New York. The apartment had three rooms—plenty of space—so it didn't matter if one went unused.
They bumped and jostled their way back to Brooke.
When the two stepped off the train, it was the same old familiar scene. Brooke, West Virginia, in the evening: peaceful and beautiful. Except... today it wasn't so peaceful. It wasn't the rumble of the train—there was a commotion outside on the town streets.
As they exited the station, they saw a man with two placards hanging from his shoulders, covered in political slogans. Next to him, another man was handing out flyers to passersby.
A quick glance was all it took for Niall to realize—it was the Democratic Party doing political outreach and fundraising. In West Virginia, the Republican Party had the upper hand for now, especially after Niall had pressured GOP lawmakers into releasing emergency aid for farmers. But the Democrats had spotted the Republicans' weakness among coal miners.
Due to widespread mine closures, even the mines still operating were cutting wages, reducing from three shifts to two—or even just one. That meant fewer hours and lower pay for workers.
And striking wasn't an option. If a miner walked off the job, there were tons of unemployed men waiting to take his place. That was the harsh reality—nothing anyone could do about it.
The Democrats were targeting disillusioned townsfolk and industrial workers—any group upset with Republican leadership. If they could secure just a couple swing districts, the state's six electoral votes might flip to the Democrats.
The townspeople waved and greeted Niall happily. He nodded in response and took a flyer. The platform promised economic revitalization, education reform, and job creation.
Campaign platforms like that were often vague, but still, Niall folded the flyer and slipped it into his pocket. Then he asked whether they were collecting donations. The answer was unsurprising—yes. Most contributions were five or ten bucks. Small amounts, but enough to show that the Democratic Party was winning hearts this time.
Meanwhile, in New York, the Democratic National Convention was underway.
The Republican Party had already decided to back President Hoover again. But who would the Democrats put forward? That was a tough question. For years, the Democrats had been dominated by the Republicans. There were few major figures who could lead a national campaign.
Even though the Democrats gained seats in last year's midterm elections, it wasn't enough to flip the House or Senate. They didn't even have a loud, charismatic "attack dog" who could take on the Republicans.
So what now?
Enter Eleanor Roosevelt. Like a deus ex machina, she began lobbying delegates and sitting lawmakers within the Democratic Party. Though she came from a prominent Republican family, she held great influence in politics. She tried to persuade them to back her husband, Franklin Delano Roosevelt, the current Governor of New York, as the Democratic presidential nominee.
Some supported her out of respect for her family. Others admired Roosevelt's record as governor. Some hoped for political favors. And a few simply lacked strong opinions but were swayed by Eleanor's charisma…
With a wife like that, FDR was truly blessed. Of course, Roosevelt himself was hard at work too—but due to his illness, he couldn't walk and required a wheelchair wherever he went. So he focused on building relationships with close allies—like Senators Alben Barkley and Lister Hill, influential figures who could help sway votes.
The couple worked in tandem—lobbying and making promises. And when the time came for the convention vote, Roosevelt, as Governor of New York, was officially chosen to represent the Democrats in the next presidential election.
As soon as the news broke, President Hoover was ecstatic. For a moment, it had seemed like the Democrats might pose a serious threat. But in the end, they'd nominated a cripple.
In a time of deep economic depression, the U.S. needed a vigorous and experienced leader to pull the country back from the brink. And Roosevelt was paralyzed—how could he govern a nation?
Hoover thought it was a joke.
Unfortunately for him, Roosevelt was about to prove—with energy, eloquence, and conviction—that he was no joke at all.