The name Livingston appears for the first time in American history

Chapter 388 The name Livingston appears for the first time in American history

October 9th, Sunday.

Larry's door was knocked on before six o'clock in the morning, but the knocking stopped abruptly in less than 10 seconds.

Larry frowned as he looked through the peephole, only to find Brady, who was on duty at his door, sternly questioning the hotel waiter who had knocked on the door.

The guy hadn't expected there to be bodyguards in the next room. Now, Brady had his arm pinned down and he was unable to move. His face turned deathly pale with fright.

"—I, I am delivering a telegram to Mr. Livingston. This urgent telegram arrived in the evening, but there was a mistake in the handover between telegraph offices, so we are sending it urgently this morning."

Before Brady could ask anything else, Larry opened the door and asked, "What telegram?"

"Mr. Livingston from New York," the hotel waiter said, his expression shifting from fear to panic as he saw Larry. He frantically explained the reason for the delay in sending the urgent telegram, apologizing repeatedly and hoping that nothing had gone wrong.

Larry frowned, pulled out the telegram, glanced at it, and then his brow relaxed.

This is a telegram from Baruch, who said that he bought wheat on Saturday following Larry's instructions to establish a position. However, a strong sell-off occurred at the end of the trading day, directly targeting his stop-loss line. Baruch still had not set a stop-loss line, and since the position was established close to the close on Saturday, he did not allow the other party to continue to suppress the price.

But Baruch is worried that if wheat prices continue to fall on Monday, long positions may face margin calls or even liquidation.

His urgent telegram was to ask Larry whether he should transfer some of the margin in his stock account to his futures account to avoid the account being liquidated.

Larry read the telegram and a smile spread across his face. This proved that his bait had finally caught the fish. The large sell orders in wheat futures at the close, even targeting his stop-loss level, clearly couldn't be from intraday trading. His adversary, lying in wait, must have added extra short positions.

What Baruch feared as a bad thing was actually the good thing he had been hoping for. Since he was going to force a short squeeze anyway, taking advantage of the situation and dealing with his rivals might not be a bad thing.

Seeing that Larry looked friendly, the hotel waiter breathed a sigh of relief, but still kept apologizing quietly.

"I know! I'll let it go this time, but be careful next time!" Larry said, patting "Tiger" on the shoulder and telling him to "make sure everyone gets up and eats breakfast." He then went back to his room to shower and get dressed.

Fifteen minutes later, Larry's Chicago team had all gathered at the hotel's breakfast table. When they saw Larry and his bodyguard Brady enter the restaurant, all eyes were on them.

Larry leisurely ordered his breakfast from the waiter, then pulled out a chair and sat down at the table. Smiling, he said to his brothers, "Today is the day for grain procurement. After breakfast, we'll head to various locations to oversee Cargill's grain purchases. I want to remind you all of two things: First, when overseeing Cargill's purchases, we only need to ensure that the No. 1 and No. 2 wheat meets the delivery standards. Those that are damp..."

"We don't accept anything that doesn't meet the standards; secondly, this is being acquired by the Livingston Agricultural Revitalization Program, Cargill is merely the executor. Furthermore, we only accept wheat from farmers; we don't accept wheat from large grain traders."

Everyone nodded to indicate that they already knew; Larry had already arranged this yesterday, and today was just a reminder.

Larry looked around at everyone, a smile spreading across his face. "Guys, this deal is a success! I'll reward you all handsomely; the task you undertook was extremely important. Keep up the good work!"

At 9 a.m., at the Cargill grain purchasing point at the South Harbor Terminal in Chicago.

The scene was quite lively, with more than 150 farm carts, mule carts, and even handcarts lined up in a crooked, seemingly endless line on the muddy open ground.

The neighing of livestock, the shouts of farmers, and the curses of wheels stuck in the mud blended into a symphony of anxiety. The air was thick with the complex smells of animal dung, damp soil, and fresh wheat.

Cargill employees, dressed in matching dark uniforms, sat upright behind a long table. A cardboard sign on the table read in bold black lettering: "Livingston Agricultural Revitalization Project" Purchase Point.

To ensure the fair rights and interests of the vast majority of farmers, the following regulations will be implemented for this purchase:

1. Only individual farmers (who must present the original land title or lease) are accepted for direct sale.

2. The daily sales limit per household is 200 bushels (one cart).

3. The grain must undergo on-site sampling and preliminary inspection to ensure it meets the standards of "No. 2 Soft Red Winter Wheat" or better.

4. After registration, you will receive a voucher. You can pay the full amount of the goods within two weeks by presenting this voucher.

Finally, two lines of cursive script were written: "God bless the hardworking people, God bless America!"

An elderly farmer with a deeply lined face and thick fingers squeezed to the purchasing table and carefully handed a curled-edge, mud-splattered land deed to a Cargill employee. He then turned and pointed to his fully loaded wagon, his eyes filled with a mixture of hope and fear.

The young registrar behind the desk meticulously checked the land title information according to the training procedure, and then filled in the farmer's name, land location, and quantity to be pre-sold on the specially made three-part carbon copy registration form in neat handwriting.

Another, slightly older staff member picked up a sampler, walked to the carriage, and randomly drew a handful of wheat grains from several sacks.

He then carefully examined the color and plumpness of the wheat grains, and chewed them a couple of times to feel their hardness and moisture.

"The quality meets the requirements, sir!" the registrar announced loudly.

The farmers around, who had been listening intently, let out low, relieved sighs.

Cargill began weighing and storing the wheat, while the registrar filled out the forms.

"Come and put your fingerprints on this! Keep the white copy of the receipt safe; it's your withdrawal slip, so don't lose it! Two weeks later, bring this receipt and your ID to any Cargill office to collect your full payment. 70 cents per bushel."

The old farmer pressed his bright red handprint in the designated spot, and tremblingly accepted the thin piece of paper, as if he were holding the lives of his entire family in his hands.

"God bless the merciful Mr. Livingston!" the old farmer prayed fervently.

Impatient voices rose from the line behind him, urging, "Hurry up! At this rate, we won't get our turn until dark!"

""

"Bear with it, Joe, that's the rule—" another voice advised. "It's better to waste time than to let the food rot at home, or to have those predatory grain merchants squeeze it down to 55 cents!"

The registrar remained expressionless, strictly following procedures to ensure the compliance of every document.

However, the pace has been deliberately slowed down. This is in accordance with the instructions from above. While meticulous execution is necessary, Cargill's additional instruction is—"Go slowly, and have a sense of ceremony!"

Not far away, a well-dressed man, clearly a small grain merchant, tried to squeeze to the front of the line. He waved a document and shouted, "I'm delivering grain on behalf of 12 farmers in the town. This is their letter of authorization. We have 1000 bushels. Can we get priority?"

The site manager from Cargill was a serious-looking middle-aged man who immediately led two burly porters to block his way.

"Sir, the regulations are very clear!" The manager's voice wasn't loud, but it carried an undeniable authority. "It must be sold directly by individual farmers. We cannot verify the authenticity of your letter of authorization. To prevent anyone from exploiting the rules to harm the interests of genuine small farmers, you either need to have those 12 households come in person to queue up, or you need to split the grain and register it separately, with each household not exceeding 200 bushels."

"But how long will this drag on?" the grain merchant cried, stamping his feet in frustration. "Why is there such a damn regulation?"

"This was specifically requested by Mr. Livingston. Seeing the poverty of ordinary farmers, he raised the purchase price to help farmers in the Midwest. It's a semi-public welfare project. If you can't wait—"

The manager, a shrewd look on his face, continued, "You can also choose to ship the grain directly to Cargill's central warehouse and follow the bulk transaction process, but in that case, the purchase price will be 60 cents, which is market value. What do you think?"

The grain merchant's face turned a deep shade of liver. The price difference of 60 cents versus 70 cents, coupled with potential delays and testing risks, instantly deflated his spirits.

This year's grain prices are unexpectedly low, and the collapse in the futures market has dragged down the spot market. Everyone thought this year was doomed—but Cargill suddenly announced yesterday the launch of a "Livingston Agricultural Revitalization Plan".

This is a semi-public welfare grain purchasing project targeting small farmers, and the purchase price of 70 cents surprised everyone!

Because at this time, the price of premium wheat had fallen to 60 cents, and the price of ordinary wheat was even lower.

Since someone was offering a high price for grain, everyone wanted to sell their grain to the kind Mr. Livingston. However, the plan only purchased bulk grain from farmers, which gave the grain merchants a major headache.

The grain merchant glared angrily at his manager, then turned and roared at his men, "What are you all standing there for?! Go find people, find twelve farmers, and have them line up separately!"

The surrounding farmers, witnessing this scene, wore mocking expressions. These grain merchants had been desperately trying to drive down prices when buying grain, but they hadn't expected to encounter the kind-hearted Mr. Livingston who only bought grain from farmers—they were about to suffer a setback!

Meanwhile, some people kept praising Livingston, whom they had never heard of before, calling him an angel sent by God to help the farmers, and saying that his name of mercy would resound throughout the Midwest.

The grain merchant slunk away amidst the ridicule of the crowd.

Larry stood on the riverbank of the harbor, taking in the entire Cargill acquisition. A smile spread across his face as he watched the grain merchants leave.

Grain merchants, of course, wouldn't accept defeat. They would break down their wheat shipments into smaller units, entrust farmers to sell to Cargill, but they would have to give the farmers a 2-cent discount.

After all, the opportunity to sell wheat at a high price is not something that happens every day.

This is exactly what they hoped for. Grain merchants' grain that meets delivery standards will also be distributed to farmers. Once ownership is transferred, they will no longer have high-quality, deliverable wheat.

In addition, Larry designed to slow down the acquisition process. This was to use absolute "political correctness to protect the weak" to create a huge efficiency funnel and quietly clog the liquidity of the spot market.

The wheat purchases that begin on Sunday will shake up half of the U.S. spot wheat market, allowing them to lock in the best quality wheat possible.

As long as these wheat grains are broken down into smaller portions, whether they are on farmers' carts or in Cargill's warehouses, they will not be able to stop the short squeeze plan on the delivery registration date.

At the same time, thousands of miles away in Duluth, Minnesota.

The cold wind here is even more biting than in Chicago. Three medium-sized grain barges belonging to major grain traders are like trapped whales, quietly anchored in the designated anchorage area.

The ship had a deep draft, clearly indicating it was fully loaded with cargo. However, their unloading route was completely blocked by dozens of dilapidated farm carts.

Cargill's local representative, a tall, thin man wearing glasses, held up a tin megaphone and shouted at the ship's irritable captain and first mate in English with a German accent.

"Gentlemen, let me repeat! According to the Livingston Agricultural Revitalization Scheme and Hong Kong's regulations for maintaining fair order, any bulk grain shipment exceeding 5000 bushels must first be broken down into transactions per individual farmer and completed with independent registration and initial sampling inspection!"

"Bullshit!" The ship owner was a burly man with a red face, his face flushed with anger. "I have 4 bushels on this ship!"

"The Andaman Company collected it from half the state. Where am I supposed to find hundreds of farmers? Is this some kind of grain transport or a game?"

“Language, sir! Watch your language,” the Cargill representative adjusted his glasses, his tone calm. “I understand your difficulties. But Mr. Livingston is helping farmers. Either you sell directly to Cargill at the current market price, and we will process it according to the bulk transaction procedure, or you will have to wait in line and show us your land deeds!”

The ship owner's face turned from red to purple. Demurrage fees were real money every day, and the market was constantly changing. What if this wealthy man named Livingston stopped buying? Who knew how low the price would fall?

The key issue is that he simply can't afford to wait.

"You, you are maliciously obstructing the flow of commerce! I'm going to sue you and file a complaint with the State Commerce Commission!" the ship owner said in a last-ditch effort.

"As you wish, sir." The person in charge put down the megaphone and gestured for him to proceed. "However, the regulations remain in effect until the complaint is resolved. By the way, two more ships are arriving after you—have a pleasant day."

Night fell, and twilight descended like black iron, pressing down heavily.

The windows of Cargill's Chicago warehouse office were all covered with black cloth. The air was thick with the acrid smoke of cigars, but no one inside seemed to notice.

A huge map of the American Midwest hangs on the wall, with thumbtacks of different colors densely packed around, representing Cargill's granaries in various locations.

Dozens of fine cotton threads crisscross the map, connecting warehouses, collection points, transshipment stations, and final delivery warehouses, outlining a vast but fragile network of grain movement.

-

Holding a long pole, Matthew stood beside the map, his voice slightly hoarse with excitement. "According to the latest summary, 41 bushels of wheat are concentrated in seven core delivery warehouses in Chicago, Kansas City, and Omaha. Procurement points across the country estimate that, based on the current queue size, there are at least 170 million bushels of wheat waiting to be purchased."

"It's definitely more than that; the actual scale should be at least double!" Old Cargill shook his head slightly. His years of experience in grain purchasing told him that even with the impact of the summer rains on wheat this year, the amount of wheat meeting delivery standards would still be considerable.

Meanwhile, McMillan, holding the ledger, reported, "Based on reports from each purchasing point, due to our separate registration and strict quality control requirements, the average delay in the physical logistics from the production area to the main delivery warehouse has now increased from the usual two to three days to five to seven days, and the uncertainty is extremely high!"

Matthew added, "There are already sporadic rumors circulating in the market that the high-quality wheat procurement program may be terminated at any time, farmers are queuing up overnight, and large grain traders are even giving up profits to allow small farmers to help sell their produce—"

Larry sat in a comfortable leather chair in the middle of the room, a gold eagle coin rolling around between his knuckles as if it were doing somersaults.

He looked at the blueprints on the wall and a slight smile appeared on his face.

"Let the rumors fly a little longer!" Larry said slowly. "Let's take our time acquiring them, even if we double the price, it's fine."

As long as it stays at the current pace, that's fine.

Cargill frowned slightly. "We only harvested 41 bushels in one day. What if futures prices surge? Will the farmers waiting in line move their wheat?"

Larry looked at old Cargill, a shrewd, calculating expression on his face. "Mr. Cargill," he said, "there's a term called sunk cost. You've probably never heard of it. Whether it's a large grain trader or a small farmer, they won't give up here until prices are high enough."

Old Cargill thought for a few seconds, then nodded. He looked at Larry, his eyes deep, "Your move was brilliant—putting everything else aside, from now on, people in the Midwest will see you as a savior whenever they hear your name. I don't know if you can make money, but clearly, you've earned a good reputation!"

Larry smiled and waved his hand. "My reputation is Cargill's reputation. From now on, our names will be linked."

Old Cargill shook his head. "You need to make sure you can keep your promise. We're issuing a bad check now; if you can't give them cash in two weeks, they'll tear it up."

"Don't worry about that. Matthew and I are going back to the exchange tomorrow. There are people waiting for me there!" Larry smiled and winked, then asked, "You just said that if I can't give them cash, they'll tear me apart. But what if I do? What will they do then?"

Old Cargill paused for a moment, thought for a few seconds, and then said, "Then—you've truly helped the farmers. Farmers are living in dire straits these days. Your 10-cent premium will benefit many people."

After a moment, old Cargill gave Larry a deep look. "A person's good reputation is like a monument erected on the Alps. If you ever run for president, they will vote for you!"