America 1881: Legend of the West

"I've told you before, don't provoke Chen Jianqiu if you have nothing to do. He has already matured and you can't touch him."

Morgan held a cigar in his mouth, read the newspaper, and said leisurely.

Compared with the last private party, Edison and Hauke ​​were missing from the salon.

The former was kicked out of General Electric Company by Morgan because of his complete defeat in the battle between direct current and alternating current, and went to mine in New Jersey; the latter went bankrupt and jumped into the sea, devoting himself to feeding nature and feeding fish.

Morgan and Rockefeller never mourned their deaths.

Freemasonry has always been ruthless towards losers.

Those who are useful are called tool people, those who are useless are garbage.

Who would regret that the trash is gone?

There are two more people in the salon, one is a writer with curly hair and a pipe in his mouth.

His pen name is Mark Twain.

Mark Twain joined the Freemasons very early because of his outstanding reputation, and maintained very deep personal relationships with various members of the Freemasons.

For example, Mr. JP Morgan.

When he came to the salon today, he was actually invited to taste the fine tobacco that Mr. Morgan had just bought from Havana.

The other man had a neat beard, his hair was meticulously pulled back, and he was dressed like a gentleman.

His name was August Belmont Jr., a German-American.

Just mentioning this name, most people may not be very familiar with it.

But when it comes to the master behind him, no one in Europe knew about him at that time.

Rothschild family.

August Belmont Jr.'s father, August Belmont Sr., entered the Rothschild Bank in Frankfurt at the age of 14. He emigrated to the United States in 1837 and became the latter's spokesperson in the United States.

The old man devoted his whole life to serving the Rothschild family, and he also prospered in the United States. He died of influenza five years ago.

Since then, August Belmont Jr. has taken over his father's footsteps.

John Rockefeller said nothing, his face was gloomy, and he was sitting on the sofa thinking about something.

But the big-nosed Morgan didn’t seem to notice the oil tycoon’s displeasure, and continued to add fuel to the fire:

"Now in the eyes of the people in New York, he is a hero who defended Hawaii for the United States. What can you do to him? Even old Dupont was pissed to death by him. My God, that is a man with an iron will. people."

"I'm not Dupont!" Rockefeller finally couldn't help it.

"I know, I know, my friend." Morgan took down the newspaper and waved his hand at the oil tycoon, "How could you believe an Italian madman! That man is just a magician from Sicily!"

"With all due respect, if he is really caught by following the clues, based on my understanding of Chen Jianqiu, he will find the media he controls, and then report the matter with exaggeration, divided into sixty chapters, one chapter a day, and two series Months!”

"Or, find a troupe, write a play, and perform it in a Broadway theater for half a year."

Mark Twain choked on the cigarette he had just inhaled.

He wanted to laugh, but held it back.

He knew Chen Jianqiu.

This guy can really do this kind of thing.

However, he was not sure whether the people present knew about the relationship between him and Chen Jianqiu.

At least Rockefeller didn't know that.

Rockefeller's face fell completely.

The relationship between him and Morgan is both cooperative and competitive.

However, because Morgan made his fortune relatively late, when the Rockefeller family began to gain momentum in the 70s, Morgan was just a banking partner and a follower of George Peabody.

Being teased like this by his opponent, the richest man in America really couldn't stand it.

"Morgan, don't forget, he is a Chinese, the kind of Chinese who would not have even looked at him when he was walking on the streets of New York decades ago!"

Morgan shook his head:

"I'm only interested in money. As for racism, I have no idea at all."

Rockefeller turned to Morgan, his thin face serious.

"Morgan, let's make a bet. I will defeat Chen Jianqiu in the arms industry that he is most proud of! I can do what DuPont cannot do!"

"What are you betting on?" Morgan touched his big nose and looked at Rockefeller with interest.

"The iron ore in McSabi Mountain is the largest iron ore in the United States. I know you have been coveting the steel industry for a long time, but Carnegie is not that easy to deal with." Rockefeller tapped his hand on the table, "You need to integrate some small resources."

"So what if I lose?"

"I want part of your shares in General Motors." The oil tycoon narrowed his eyes.

These two chips are theoretically unequal.

The overt and covert struggle between Rockefeller and Carnegie lasted more than a day or two.

He initially planned to use the tactics he was familiar with - controlling raw materials to deal with the steel tycoon.

However, it was not until later that Rockefeller discovered that he was a complete amateur.

Controlling large iron mines would not improve Carnegie's steel company, because iron ore was everywhere in the United States.

What really determines the life and death of a steel plant is the coal mine!

He dug a hole for Morgan.

But General Motors is different.

His opponent is Chen Jianqiu's Roswell Electric Company.

I first dealt with this damn Chinese in the arms industry, and then let him out of the electrical industry, completely driving him out of the United States, and going back to where he came from.

At the same time, it can weaken Morgan's strength and kill two birds with one stone, so why not do it.

Rockefeller originally thought that Morgan, who was shrewd in this business, would not agree to this deal, or would ask him to increase his bargaining chip.

Who knows the banker didn't even think about it.

"Deal! I'll wait for your good news!" He stretched out his hand toward Rockefeller.

The oil tycoon shook hands with Morgan curtly, stood up and left.

"I'm leaving too." Mark Twain took the last puff of his pipe, stood up, and extended his hand to Morgan. "Thank you very much for the tobacco. They taste wonderful."

He knew that there must be something to discuss between the remaining two bankers, so he took the initiative to leave.

Morgan held the writer's hand: "Okay, Mr. Writer, next time I have good tobacco leaves, I will definitely invite you to taste them together as soon as possible."

"You can also share it with your friends." He said meaningfully.

Mark Twain felt that there was something in Morgan's words, but he didn't think much about it. He put on his hat, turned around and walked out of the door into the dark night of New York.

"You seem to prefer entertaining friends with tobacco leaves at home." Belmont said, watching the writer's leaving figure, "Why did you suddenly think of making an appointment with him in the Masonic Salon today?"

"Isn't the salon just a place for sharing hobbies?" Morgan had already put down the newspaper.