Chapter 98 - Who's the Person You Need?
"So it's true, all those stories about the chaos in the LES dance halls. Of all places, the dance hall's in the basement—are you sure your store won't end up getting damaged?"
"That's not necessarily the case."
This was my third meeting with Clifton, Derrick's friend.
Clifton, born into a Scottish immigrant family, currently supplies liquor to bars, dance halls, and hotels all over Manhattan.
The three of us usually talked about events happening around Manhattan—delivery routes, warehouses, distribution, and the like.
Today's topic was the war between the Union and the Five Points. Being the salesman he was, Clifton knew all the ins and outs about the dance hall incidents and the recent clashes between the two gangs.
"No matter how clever the Union is, they can't match the Five Points. Even if the Five Points Gang isn't what it used to be, they're still the top crew in the LES."
"What's funny is, no one really knows who the Union boss is, and Itsuki Joe from the Five Points is in hiding."
Derrick brought up the old conflict between Eastman and the Five Points.
"Ciaran, maybe you don't remember, but back then the bosses would meet face to face and settle things directly. People even saw Monk Eastman and Paul Kelly going up against each other in a boxing match."
"Times have changed. NYPD's cracking down harder than ever—there's no way anyone's going to show their face now. From what I hear, even Itsuki Joe keeps moving around from hotels and motels, even to boarding houses."
All of a sudden, Clifton's comment caught my ear.
"You've seen Itsuki Joe?"
"A few days ago, I happened to see him while making a delivery at Hotel Delancey. He's probably moved somewhere else by now. From what I heard, he has a few spots he rotates between."
So that means there's a good chance he'll stay at Hotel Delancey again—this is valuable information.
"Clifton, my nephew isn't involved with gangs, so let's talk about something else."
Derrick changed the subject, conscious of me. But for me, it was a topic of great interest.
December 1917. Just a month ago, the U.S. Congress had approved a draft for the Eighteenth Amendment. This was a constitutional amendment that included, incredibly, Prohibition.
Amidst all the recent incidents, I hadn't been able to focus on it, but this was a huge development.
But strangely enough, the mood in Manhattan hadn't changed at all. Even the salesmen who should have been most sensitive to Prohibition didn't seem to take it seriously.
"There's no way that could ever work in New York. Banning alcohol by law? The very idea is ridiculous."
"Still, more and more states are starting to enforce Prohibition these days."
Clifton's comment drew a rebuttal from Derrick. He didn't think Prohibition would just blow over as a minor incident.
That was actually how things were playing out.
As of 1918, there were forty-eight states in America.
Of those, starting with Maine (since 1851), 27 states were enforcing Prohibition.
And this month, by January 14, Mississippi, Virginia, and Kentucky had also ratified the amendment.
So why on earth are more and more states in America adopting such a crazy law?
In the early 19th century, there was something a Royal Navy officer once said:
When meeting someone for the first time, they drink; when building friendships, they drink; and after closing a deal, they drink.
If they get into a fight, they drink; if they make up afterwards, they drink.
Whether it's hot, they drink, or if it's cold, they drink.>
He wasn't talking about Korea—this was about America.
At one point, Americans reportedly consumed a staggering seven gallons of alcohol per person per year—the equivalent of 440 bottles of soju, drinking almost insanely.
Corn and sugarcane were so abundant that Bourbon Whiskey was cheaper than milk, which only fueled the drinking culture.
In any case, American men routinely squandered their wages on alcohol, and it was common for them to end up unemployed because of it. Many would come home drunk and beat their wives and even their kids. Even Leo's own father was one of those alcoholics.
But despite all this, the whiskey salesman Clifton had no idea that his livelihood was on the verge of disappearing.
"The ones talking about Prohibition are all from the Midwest or the West. You think places like New York, full of big cities, would ban alcohol? There'd be riots! And why do you think Prohibition crusaders like Carrie Nation never set foot in Manhattan? Because even if she did, nobody here would give her the time of day."
Clifton was absolutely certain. He couldn't sense the changing times.
But who exactly was Carrie Nation?
They called her "Jesus's Bulldog That Barks at the Sight of Booze."
She stood about 180 centimeters tall and weighed roughly 80 kilos.
Dressed in black, carrying a Bible in one hand and a hatchet in the other, she would storm into bars all by herself and smash up everything in sight—she was famous for it.
Yes, she was a woman.
America may have been founded by Puritans, but with the nation's values scraping rock bottom, Carrie waged her own moral crusade—true to her name—against bars, casinos, and horse tracks.
This legendary berserker inspired countless women to popularize the rallying cry, "Keep your drunken mouths off our bodies!", and she stirred the religious community into actively joining the cause. Sadly, she departed for the Great Hereafter—one without alcohol—six years ago, but Carrie Nation still serves as a guiding spirit for the Prohibition movement. In fact, she's left an everlasting mark on the history of American feminism.
Anyway, Clifton stubbornly insisted right to the end that enforcing Prohibition was impossible.
Then he left first, saying he had a delivery to make.
When it was just the two of us, I spoke candidly to Derrick.
"You think Prohibition is actually going to happen, Uncle-in-law?"
"To be honest, I'd say it's fifty-fifty. But do you know why so many states are accepting these ridiculous Prohibition laws?"
"Why?"
"Because that's what the public wants."
And Derrick argued that public demand is reflected at the ballot box. That matched my own thoughts one hundred percent.
"What wouldn't politicians do to win an election? The Governor and the State Legislature will have no choice but to pass Prohibition."
I nodded enthusiastically, feeling as if I'd found a kindred spirit.
"Actually, if you look at the whole State of New York—not just big cities like Manhattan—it's obvious. Prohibition organizations are running active campaigns all over."
Their slogans are also worth noting.
[Don't waste grain during wartime!]
[A single glass of beer starves a soldier!]
This ultimately fueled a sense of solidarity around the idea that "Patriotic citizens should stay away from alcohol," lending strong support to the Prohibition movement.
At that moment, Derrick suddenly asked a question.
"Ciaran, you said you were interested in the Liquor Warehouse and the distribution network, right? That's why I introduced you to Clifton in the first place?"
"That's right."
"Is it because of Prohibition?"
Derrick asked with a meaningful look on his face.
Now was my chance to reel him in.
"If you want to get ahead in the market, you have to start preparing now."
"But if Prohibition goes into effect, Liquor Warehouses and distribution networks will be useless, won't they?"
That's what most people would think.
But Derrick's question was really just to test me.
Let me give him the answer he wants.
"Have you ever seen the world actually run according to the law?"
I made my intention clear.
Derrick blinked in surprise, but a greedy glint began to appear in his eyes.
"You're right—laws are only for those who bother following them. I'm not really that type, either."
Derrick nodded, as if he'd found a kindred spirit. But then his expression darkened.
"Realistically, cornering the market is extremely difficult. It's also pretty dangerous."
The point was, "We can't do it on our own."
I wasn't ready to show all my cards yet, but I still needed to give him some hope.
"There are a few things already in motion. I'm also in contact with some powerful backers."
Derrick asked, "You're really serious about this, aren't you?"
"If you do something half-heartedly, it'll go down in flames. Even giving it everything probably won't be enough. You have to go all in."
"You always manage to surprise me, you know that?"
Derrick looked at me with renewed curiosity.
Then, smacking his lips a little bitterly, he went on.
"I'd like to help my nephew too, but I'm just not sure I have any useful skills."
"Of course you do. And besides, we've still got plenty of time—we can develop new ones along the way."
"But we should probably keep this talk secret from the rest of the family, right?"
"There's nothing to tell them yet—we haven't actually done anything. But down the road, we'll need help from the other family members, too."
For example, there was Noah, my eldest uncle who ran a truck transport business, and Ted, my third uncle who was a police officer.
It would be Derrick's job to persuade them and bring them in.
For now, we kept it just between the two of us, and Derrick slipped out of the store.
Then I called over Marcus and told him the information Clifton had shared.
"Itsuki Joe might show up at Hotel Delancey. He's been hopping between different places, so keep a close watch on that one."
The war with the Five Points Gang was dragging on. The more the NYPD and the press focused on the conflict between the two gangs, the more Union's reputation grew.
Normally, with this much attention, you'd expect people to lay low.
After taking a heavy beating, the Five Points Gang became more cautious, while Union threw everything they had into tracking them down.
Marcus and Leo, along with the other members, scoured the shoe shiners, newsstands, and even the homeless for information.
Whenever they pinpointed the Five Points Gang's units or business locations, they would launch an immediate attack.
But hit-and-run tactics don't always go smoothly.
Today was one of those times.
"Boss, three of the kids were picked up by the police."
It happened during an attack on a bar on Bowery Street. Fortunately, they were caught while fleeing, not at the scene, so there wasn't enough evidence; the police couldn't tie them to Union, and they were released soon after.
But who could take that at face value?
The fact that the police let them go seemed very deliberate.
"They could be using them as bait to find the Union headquarters, Patrick. Tell those kids to stay in Hell's Kitchen for now."
"I thought the same. I don't think it's safe for them to come and go from here."
Since it came up, we decided to station some of our members at the new magazine company building.
I called in Leo about it and handed him a document outlining the magazine company's operation plan. We'd already discussed it a few times, so he just needed to check the details.
"I've informed Mother, so pull out of the clothing factory and move thirty members over to the magazine company building."
"So for now, we'll be reporters in name and work as informants? What about the actual magazine?"
"If we slack off, it'll fail. I'm looking for an experienced professional."
None of the members had any experience with work involving writing, like at a magazine company or newspaper company. That's why we needed someone who knew the ropes, an expert who could train the members as reporters.
As we were about to leave the office, Leo hesitated, then spoke up.
"Marcus has been really busy lately. Can I take over watching Itsuki Joe?"
"Why?"
"Marcus goes to night school, you know."
"Oh…"
I'd completely forgotten. After meeting with Edgar Hoover, Marcus's goals changed.
Since that day, Marcus had been attending night classes at Eastside High School.
"But Leo, aren't you interested?"
"In what? Studying?"
"If you want to go, I'll support you. Who knows, maybe you'll become a politician and end up helping me."
"Are you saying there's no real future for me as a gangster?"
No, why would you interpret it like that.
"I just want you to consider different possibilities."
"So, Ciaran, what kind of people do you need?"
"Defense attorney, accountant, brewer, captain, truck driver, pharmacist, doctor, reporter, politician, police officer, you name it. I need a ton of different people."
"All of that sounds pretty far removed from gang work."
"Not at all. Think of it as a gang that's specialized and professional. That's even scarier. And honestly, isn't it better than putting your gang's name on a business card?"
As for business cards, you just print whichever company you want from any of our businesses.
But what I really need are people with actual experience, skills, and credentials.
"Anyway, we'll be taking on even more business in the future. Don't just try to fit in with me—think about what you want. Whatever it is, you can do it with me."
"I'll seriously think about it."
Watching Leo's back as he left the office, I found myself deep in thought.
Honestly, Leo doesn't fit the mold of a traditional gangster. He has nothing in common with theft, assault, murder, or intimidation.
But I trust Leo. After all, when I was on the brink of death, he carried me on his back for three kilometers to get me home—something not just anyone could do.
Now that we're eighteen, it's time for us to set a real goal, not just be a half-baked gang.
I hoped Leo would do the same, just like Marcus…
Knock, knock.
"Boss, it's me."
Marcus knocked on the office door, tool bag slung over his shoulder.
Judging by the bright look on his face, it seemed like, contrary to Leo's worries, his busy work was coming to an end.
"Thirty minutes ago, Itsuki Joe entered Hotel Delancey. Room 407. Our members are monitoring the area around the hotel now."
I headed to Hotel Delancey right away with Marcus.
As soon as I saw the building, I frowned.
There were no alleys on either side since the hotel was wedged between neighboring buildings, and it faced a busy main street, making escape difficult.
In the end, that meant we'd have to wait until the target came out.
Across the street from Hotel Dellenchy, I spotted another hotel of similar height.