"But can't the bank just auction off the mortgaged coal mines and machinery to get the money back?"
After hearing this, Aunt Kinsey was shocked, but Debbie, who had at least made it to eighth grade, quickly grasped the logic. If the coal mine owners' equipment was mortgaged to the bank, didn't that mean the bank still had ways to recover the loans?
"No, no, no. Coal isn't selling. Who would want a coal mine or machinery? By then, they'll be nothing but worthless junk," Neil said bluntly.
"You mean the bank might really go bankrupt?" Aunt Kinsey still found it hard to believe.
"Of course it will! This is an economic crisis—an extreme mismatch between production and consumption, and an extreme inequality between society and capital!"
"I don't understand all that talk, but you're saying we should withdraw all the money tomorrow, right?" Aunt Kinsey hadn't had much schooling. She couldn't follow complicated theories and doctrines. She just purely trusted her eldest nephew Neil.
"Exactly! Take it all out immediately."
In fact, at this point, it would be smart to sell off all their grain and livestock too—prices were still relatively normal. Later on, even if you wanted to sell, you wouldn't get a decent price. At the peak of the crisis, it was said that some states slaughtered over 110,000 dairy cows in a single day, and all of them were either buried or ground up into feed.
With a few thousand dollars in hand, one could later buy up bankrupt farmers' land and livestock. But they were Irish immigrants who had all fled to the same place, helping each other get by. Everyone suffered together. If Neil's family took advantage of the Great Depression to annex their fellow countrymen's property, they wouldn't be able to survive in Brooke County afterward.
So better not to do such things—at most, buy some livestock from neighbors at a fair price and raise them. A few years later, when Roosevelt came to power and began large-scale investments, prices would gradually stabilize.
"Got it. I'll go to town with you tomorrow," Aunt Kinsey made the decision quickly. Since Neil spoke with such certainty, she immediately agreed.
That night passed uneventfully. The next morning, Aunt Kinsey, for once, took off her big apron and put on a dark-colored skirt. She wrapped her head with a scarf, tucked the certificate of deposit worth several thousand dollars into her chest, and followed Neil into town.
There wasn't a cart to hitch a ride on today, so they rode into town on a coal wagon. This coal wagon had quite a history—its name alone was enough to boast about.
A Studebaker!
Yes, that same Studebaker—maker of luxury sedans and promoted by royalty. The same model used by Flying Tigers commander Claire Chennault, newly imported from the Philippines, priced at $8,000.
But Neil wasn't riding in a Studebaker sedan—he was riding in a Studebaker wagon. Studebaker originally made wagons before getting into cars and trucks. The famed GAZ and Studebaker trucks used in WWII were closely related; the U.S. alone sent the USSR 200,000 Studebaker trucks during the war.
As for the wagon Neil rode in—it wasn't just any wagon. It was a military-issue armed wagon ordered by the Union army during the Civil War.
A legendary wagon!
At the chaotic beginning of the war, the federal government was caught unprepared and ordered Studebaker to deliver 500 armed wagons within 24 hours. Miraculously, Studebaker delivered. The company became famous overnight and soon one of the U.S. government's "official suppliers."
Their wagons, if well maintained, could easily last over a hundred years. As of 1202 (in the story's calendar), there were still Union wagons preserved in military museums. The white oak wheels were solid, and the ride wasn't even that bumpy—one of the best wagons of its time.
After a bumpy journey into town, Neil saw it was still early. The court wouldn't start so soon, so he led Aunt Kinsey to the county administrative committee building. The town was tiny—everything was within walking distance. The bank was right next to the IRS office. Of course, it wasn't open yet—probably not until 8:30.
As they walked, Frederick arrived at the administrative building on his bicycle. He spotted Neil and Aunt Kinsey and came over to greet them.
"Good morning." The German guy had golden hair and a well-practiced fake smile. To be fair, he looked better than Neil—he was handsome.
Neil, on the other hand, was a typical Celt—red hair and shorter than Frederick. He paled in comparison.
"Good morning, ma'am." Aunt Kinsey had only ever been to the high school for parent-teacher meetings—rarely came to town. So Frederick barely recognized her.
"Mr. Schäfer, you two go about your business. Don't worry about me." Aunt Kinsey smiled at Frederick and walked toward the bank.
"What's going on? Why did your aunt come with you?" Frederick asked.
"To withdraw money," Neil said matter-of-factly. They were at the bank—what else could they be doing?
"Are you going off to college? Or is your brother coming back to get married? I haven't heard anything," Frederick asked casually.
"No, the money is just needed elsewhere, so we're withdrawing it."
They walked a few steps more, and Frederick seemed to realize something. He turned back and studied Neil from head to toe.
"Something's going on with your family!" Once they got into the office, Frederick shut the door and got straight to the point.
"What makes you think so?" Neil asked. The guy was sharp—definitely had the instincts of someone raised in the hotel business. He could read people well.
"Your aunt looked hurried—not like usual. She's clearly here on short notice to withdraw money. That money is your lifeline—either for college or a wedding. Since neither is happening and you're still withdrawing it, you're hiding something from me!"
"Well, if you trust me, go home and convince your dad to withdraw all your money before the end of the month. Don't deposit anything new into the bank in the short term," Neil said.
Frederick had seen more of the world and wasn't as easily convinced as Aunt Kinsey. Telling him directly that the Great Depression was about to hit and banks would collapse? That wouldn't work. Neil wasn't some famous economist or capitalist—he didn't have that kind of authority.
"..." Frederick said nothing. He just stared at Neil, as if trying to see through him.
Neil didn't look away and stared right back. After a moment, Frederick suddenly turned, flew out the door, jumped down the stairs in two or three steps, and hopped on his bike in the courtyard. From the look of it, he was headed home.
Who knows how much money his family had in the bank? Maybe $100,000, maybe $200,000? In any case, certainly a lot more than Neil's family.