Chapter 199
The Grapes of Wrath
Chapter 199 The Grapes of Wrath
The day after Edgar Hoover felt threatened, the third volume of The Grapes of Wrath was officially published.
In this volume, Arthur boldly uses his confrontation in Iowa as the prototype for the climax of the entire book.
In the book, he describes the struggles that the Jod family encountered on their journey.
When the greedy land company sent its private soldiers, armed with automatic weapons, to storm the Lu Piao camp, the refugees, who had previously scattered and fled in silence, did not back down again.
Arthur wrote in the article:
—It was a morning in April, and the morning mist had not yet dissipated.
Tom Jord crouched in the shadow of the beat-up truck, watching as men in black uniforms jumped off in the distance.
There were fifteen of them, carrying the kind of submachine guns he had seen in the newspapers, their barrels gleaming coldly in the morning light.
He remembered his father's words: "You can't win against a bank; they have courts, police, and lawyers." He remembered his mother's words: "Just bear with it, bear with it until things get better."
But that morning, as the first tear gas canister hissed into the camp, and as those dark figures began smashing rifle butts at the elderly who hadn't yet managed to escape, Tom found himself moving.
He didn't run away.
He picked up a rusty shovel from the ground.
That was the only farm tool they took with them when they left Oklahoma.
He stood there, in the morning mist, waiting for those people to approach.
Then he heard a sound behind him.
Those were footsteps. Not just one person's footsteps, but the footsteps of many people.
He turned around.
One by one, people emerged from the morning mist. They wore tattered work clothes and carried hoes, pitchforks, and iron bars.
Wooden sticks, and even an iron pipe that was taken from somewhere.
There were elderly people, young people, people with leg problems, and people who were blind in one eye.
They emerged from every tent, from behind every broken-down truck, from the shadow of every haystack.
Tom recognized them. They were the neighbors who had been arguing over a bowl of porridge just yesterday, and the strangers who had been complaining about the injustice of the world the day before. But now, they were all standing behind him.
Five hundred tattered spines stood straight.
Five hundred mud-covered hoes were pointed at those cold, hard gun barrels that symbolized the law but protected greed.
At that moment, Tom Jord suddenly understood something.
When one person starves to death, it's a tragedy. Reporters will come to take pictures, a pastor will read a eulogy, and kind-hearted people will sigh and say how pitiful. But when five hundred people decide to stop starving, it's no longer a tragedy.
That is justice.
The entire United States was shaken the day this article was published.
In Chicago, veterans who once trembled in abandoned canneries stood up straight when they read the passage about Tom Jord picking up a shovel.
Big Mike stood between them, raised his Thompson submachine gun, aimed it at the ceiling, and pulled the trigger.
"Da da da da!"
Gunshots echoed through the factory, like an ancient oath.
In Sioux City, Iowa, Milo Reno looked at the group of farmers surrounding him and said, "Do you see that? He didn't write about the Jord family. He wrote about us. That guy named Tom, he's holding..."
It's a shovel. What are you holding in your hands?
No one spoke. But everyone looked down at their hands.
Their hands were covered in calluses, cracks, scars, and signs of frostbite, but that didn't stop them from fighting.
In Edgar Hoover's office in Washington, D.C., the atmosphere was as cold as an icebox.
Hoover sat behind his desk with the newspaper in front of him.
He had already read it three times. Each time he finished reading it, his expression grew even more unpleasant.
Thorsen stood aside, not daring to speak.
Finally, Hoover spoke.
"He's alluding to us."
Hoover's voice was extremely cold, like the hissing of a snake crawling in the grass.
"He's telling all Americans that the FBI are bad guys in black uniforms. He's telling the peasants that when they stand in front of us with hoes, they're not a mob, they're justice."
He crumpled the newspaper into a ball and slammed it against the wall.
Thorson took a deep breath and cautiously began, "Director, the reactions in Chicago and Iowa are very strong. Senator Hiram Jensen cited this passage in Congress today."
He said that if the Bureau of Investigation continues to target Arthur Kennedy, it is challenging the bottom line of American workers.
Hoover didn't speak. He just stared at the crumpled newspaper on the wall, as if it were an enemy he couldn't kill.
Tolson continued, "Our people have reported that farmers in several counties in Iowa have started organizing and saying they want to form something called the Tom Jod Mutual Aid Society."
"7
"Illinois veterans have publicly stated that anyone who dares to touch Arthur Kennedy is going against all veterans."
Hoover closed his eyes.
He knew that the political maneuvering had completely failed. The name Arthur Kennedy was now inextricably linked with the anger of the American working class.
To touch him is to detonate a powder keg. Once that powder keg explodes, it will not only kill him, but also many other people.
He remained silent for a long time. So long that Thorsen thought he had fallen asleep.
Then he spoke.
"Withdraw all field teams in Nebraska."
"Send a statement to all the major newspapers, saying that we have always supported creative freedom and that the previous misunderstanding has been completely cleared up."
We need to act like gentlemen who can accept defeat.
Thorson paused, then said, "Chief, are we just going to let him go like this?"
Hoover slowly opened his eyes. There was no anger in those eyes, only a chilling calm.
"Let him go? No. We just need to lull him into a false sense of security."
He stood up, walked to the window, and looked at the dome of Capitol Hill in the distance. The setting sun shone on the white building, bathing the entire city in a golden-red hue.
"Since he portrays himself as a saint in his book, and since he wants to be the savior of the underworld, then I will thoroughly tarnish his reputation in terms of private morality."
"I want all Americans to see how this embodiment of justice" uses the Harrison family's wealth to live off women and how he manipulates public opinion under the guise of New York socialites.
He turned around and looked at Thorsen.
"I want to make sure that, starting tomorrow, the name Arthur Kennedy is forever linked with the words 'liar,' 'gigolo,' and 'opportunist.'"
"Only by smearing your enemy in public opinion will their attacks become ineffective."
Thorsen nodded, turned and walked out.
Hoover was the only one left in the office.
He stood by the window, looking at the golden-red sky, a smile slowly appearing on his lips.