Forging America: My Campaign Manager is Roosevelt

Chapter 292 - 146: Dictator

Leo looked back at the other mayors.

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

"The first path is to continue as you always have, fighting on your own. You can line up in the halls of Harrisburg, begging the governor to spare a little from the budget, and then watch your cities die a slow death."

"The second path."

Leo pointed to the ground beneath his feet.

"Join this alliance."

"We huddle together for warmth."

"In this cold winter, the only way to survive is to stay together."

"This five hundred million dollars is just the beginning."

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

"When that happens, it won’t just be Pittsburgh that benefits, but the entire industrial belt of Western Pennsylvania."

Ron Smith was silent for a long time.

He looked at the mayor, a man forty years his junior, at the young man with ambition burning in his eyes.

He suddenly realized that this young man wasn’t just building a port.

He was trying to build an industrial kingdom for the Rust Belt, one independent of Philadelphia and Harrisburg.

The risk was too great.

This was not just cross-party collaboration; it was an open challenge to the State Government’s authority.

If he joined, and Harrisburg later came to assign blame, or the state’s Republican committee moved to impeach him, his political career could be over.

But Smith turned and glanced at the steel beam engraved with the words "Erie United Steel."

If he refused Leo now, Erie’s rolling mill would go bankrupt next month, and two thousand families would lose their income.

When that happened, the angry voters wouldn’t care one bit if he was a loyal Republican; they would just vote him out of office.

It was a matter of choosing the lesser of two evils.

As long as he could bring jobs back to Erie, that would be the best talisman he could ask for.

Even if the state party leadership held him accountable, he could stand tall and say, "I’m serving my constituents. I’m saving American manufacturing."

Partisan politics had to take a backseat to a reason like that.

Besides, this was just a verbal agreement for now.

As a veteran who had navigated the political world for decades, he knew to first play up the atmosphere and reap this initial dividend. As for the specific contract terms, there would be plenty of time to hash those out later.

There was no need for him to shatter this harmonious atmosphere right now.

"Mayor Wallace."

Smith gently patted the dust from his pant leg. The tense lines on his face relaxed, and he broke into a wry smile.

"Erie’s factories really are on their last legs."

"If this order can save them, if it means my citizens can put food on the table this winter..."

"I’d be happy to work with you."

Smith took a step forward, his voice rising slightly as if speaking for everyone around to hear.

"After all, we’re here to serve the people. This has nothing to do with elephants or donkeys. This is about survival."

Smith extended his hand.

"As long as your orders are real, Erie is your ally."

Leo took his hand.

Joe Byers was next.

Then the mayor of Johnston, and the mayor of Altoona.

Seven hands piled one on top of the other.

Leo looked at these men.

He knew he had just put a crucial piece of the puzzle into place.

Not only had he secured a stable supply chain for Pittsburgh, but he had also pulled together a powerful ground force for Murphy’s senatorial campaign.

These mayors were now his agents across the state.

To protect these orders, they would mobilize the voters in their cities to support the senatorial candidate who could bring them benefits.

"Thank you, everyone."

Leo withdrew his hand.

"Now, let’s go get a cup of hot coffee in the tent and, while we’re at it, discuss the details of the next procurement contract."

The expressions on the mayors’ faces instantly brightened.

Contracts.

That was the word they most wanted to hear.

They crowded around Leo, heading toward the temporary conference room nearby.

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

Leo could clearly feel the gazes on his back.

They held scrutiny, astonishment, and even a trace of fear toward the behemoth that was being born.

These old foxes, who had spent half their lives clawing their way through the political world, knew better than anyone what Leo was doing.

Forcibly binding them together with economic interests, bypassing Harrisburg’s administrative jurisdiction, to establish an independent industrial alliance.

This wasn’t just doing business; it was building a "state within a state."

They were probably wondering among themselves if this young man was crazy, if his ambition had swelled to the point where he wanted to be the dictator of Western Pennsylvania.

But Leo didn’t care.

He didn’t need their understanding, much less their moral approval.

As long as they bowed their heads for those contracts, as long as they chose to compromise for the sake of survival.

Then, the ultimate goal—to let the Rust Belt breathe again, to let the workers live with dignity once more—would be achieved.

If getting this rusted, seized machine to turn again required a dictator to forcibly flip the switch,

then he would be that dictator.