Rebirth as an American Tycoon

Life on the farm was dull and boring for young people. Everything here had one characteristic: punctuality.

Entertainment?

Drinking beer and chatting after dinner, that was it. Houston might have some fun places, but there was nothing like that in the countryside.

Despite Texas being known for its ruggedness, it was the most traditional place in America. Chaotic private lives and same-sex relationships were absolutely unacceptable here.

In America, there were two kinds of people: Texans and Americans. They were serious about this. Texans didn't think Texas belonged to America. They believed America belonged to Texas.

William White didn't have time for entertainment now. He had to get through the current crisis first.

And if he wanted to live lavishly and recklessly, it was better not to do it in Texas. The girls here were tough. Getting a black eye was considered gentle. It's not impossible to get shot either.

"Master, what do you want for a midnight snack?"

"Just fry some foie gras and add a fruit salad. Once the food's ready, you can go to sleep. Don't worry about me."

"Alright, Master, we'll get it ready."

In his past life, William didn't particularly like this lifestyle. It's really because the spoiled ones are always the most demanding.

This life of being waited on hand and foot was almost everyone's dream. Not liking it was just being ungrateful.

...

The young master's book was almost finished. At first, Fulton didn't care much. Since the master liked it, he could write. It was easy to find a publisher.

While organizing the manuscript this time, he found the book very interesting and ended up staring at it for a long time.

Large families had strict rules. No outsiders were allowed in the master's study. In the end, the old man was moved to tears.

Knowing such talent in his young master, the old man was overjoyed. Randomly finding a publisher was out of the question now.

Professional writers wrote books mainly to earn money, apart from personal interest. But the wealthy prioritized fame.

Do you think no one would want to publish it?

No way, that's just something made up in internet novels. If you have money, even if you write a pile of rubbish, someone will publish it.

Books written by the wealthy often had very high royalties. In a capitalist society, everything is negotiable. Since you bore most of the risk, there was no reason to withhold your royalties.

Moreover, a book written by a millionaire was already a significant selling point. Publishers would have to be crazy to turn down the wealthy.

Of course, if your book turned out to be actual trash, there's nothing anyone could do. The publisher wouldn't be losing much anyway.

...

Shaking his sore neck, William White went to bed. It was already midnight. If he didn't sleep now, there wouldn't be any chance later.

Morning on the farm was like a symphony. Sleeping in was almost impossible.

William White didn't really need to sleep in. He found that his energy was extraordinary. Four hours of sleep were enough.

While he was sleeping soundly, the Hunter family's plan was progressing. They temporarily had no time to deal with White Oil. Making a fortune from silver was their priority now.

Getting in with the desert tycoons wasn't just by chance. The desert tycoons were indeed rich now, but the large amounts of US dollars they held were worrisome. It seemed to be the woes of the wealthy.

The oil prices had surged, true, but the US dollar had plunged. They wanted to get some gold to preserve value, but no one was willing to sell.

Since the Hunter family had a grand plan and it seemed very reliable, cooperation was inevitable.

With confirmed news, the Hunter family was ecstatic. They had already put aside White Oil for the time being.

...

Their negligence was a golden opportunity for William White. He was almost powerless to resist. The best outcome would be mutual destruction.

They could afford to forget, but William White wouldn't. The sooner these despicable families perished, the better.

The animal symphony leisurely woke up William White. He stretched his stiff neck and walked into the bathroom. After getting ready, he went to the dining room.

"Fulton, I finished writing the book. Take it to the publisher."

"Yes, young master. This book will definitely be popular."

"Let's hope so. If it sells well, I can keep writing."

"It will be fine."

After breakfast, he rode a horse around the farm. This was actually part of his work. In Texas, few people couldn't ride a horse, both men and women alike. At this time, horses were still used as a means of transportation, possibly only in Texas.

"Fulton, we're going to New York tomorrow. I want to feel the atmosphere there."

"Yes, young master. The brokers are ready; we can start anytime."

"Good, I know."

Their young master suddenly grew up overnight. Fulton was no longer worried. In his view, the oil company was a troublemaker; giving it up didn't matter at all.

With nothing much to do, the next morning, five large pickup trucks roared out of the farm and headed straight for Houston.

Although there was his father's Rolls-Royce at home, he didn't like it. To him, that car looked more like an antique.

Texas pickups were more like trucks. In fact, people here preferred bigger vehicles. 

As an important oil-producing region, Texas had the cheapest fuel in the country. Gasoline and diesel prices were at least 20% cheaper than in California. Energy conservation wasn't feasible here at all.

...

Planes of this era were quite troublesome. It was baffling. Weren't these things supposed to be 100% safe?

The more advanced the aircraft, the worse the outcome if an accident occurred. Propeller planes could make emergency landings, but jet planes were just iron lumps. If there was a power failure, they would pretty much free fall.

Relatively speaking, the 747 was considered the safest. When he became wealthy, getting a 747 would be wise.

His business center couldn't be in Texas. Frequent flights were inevitable. A reliable aircraft was very important.

First class seats were very comfortable. The flight attendants were quite nice too. But it still took several hours of flying. Travel fatigue was unavoidable.

When they landed in Manhattan, it was already evening. A group of people quickly left the airport and sped towards the Long Island villa.

This villa was also bought by his dad. Usually, no one lived there. Now it had been cleaned and prepared. Even the bodyguards picking them up today had arrived yesterday. Without prior arrangements, they'd probably have to stay in a hotel tonight.

The entire journey left William White somewhat exhausted. He ate a casual dinner and then went to bed. Those scoundrels were not easy to deal with. Keeping a clear mind was very important.

Long Island wasn't very quiet in the morning. Various unknown birds tried waking up all sleeping creatures.

"Fulton, everyone else should open accounts according to the plan."

"Yes, young master."

"After breakfast, we'll go check out Manhattan."

"Alright."

William White didn't like Manhattan. The streets here were too narrow. The towering buildings on both sides made one feel very oppressed.

Then there was that ridiculous bull. It didn't look lively at all.

Over the years, Wall Street should have had a large brown bear instead. The stock market had been in a slump for a long time. Putting a bull here was laughable. This joke would probably continue for quite some time.

Wall Street began its daily hustle. Even if the market wasn't doing well, the bustling scene never changed.

The trading methods of the time seemed like a joke to William White. He couldn't understand how this shouting could result in confirmed trades.

Institutional seats were alright, but individual investors should stay out. They'd get slaughtered.

Luckily, there weren't many individual investors in America back then; stock brokers handled those trades. Regular people couldn't take it.

Even now, without big fluctuations, these guys acted like they were on steroids. If there were a surge or a tumble, one with a weak heart couldn't handle this job.

The futures market was evidently livelier. The devaluation of the dollar directly sparked a boom in precious metals trading. Capital always sought profit, and this money clearly needed an outlet.

The silver price was just $5.6 per ounce. It was clear this crowd hadn't taken action yet. William White remembered clearly that around early June, silver easily broke the $6 mark. Then it surged forward.

Why it ended up the way it did later, William couldn't understand. The silver price was genuinely undervalued. When it hit $20, that was still within a reasonable range.

If the final price stayed around $19, there wouldn't have been any problem. The Hunter family would have been filthy rich.

Futures had leverage. Never mind a three-fold increase; a 30% rise was already terrifying.

One thing William White was sure of: the desert tycoons got severely tricked. The money they made from oil suddenly got wiped out.

Could it be that the target was the desert tycoons? The Hunter family were patriots. To screw over the desert tycoons, they even messed themselves over.

Seeing a bunch of grim-faced brokers, William couldn't help but chuckle. This wasn't even their own money; why drive themselves crazy?

Some said this was heaven; alright, that must have been a lucky guy. Others said it was hell; that person probably got wiped out.

The stock exchange market was a very conservative place. Forget online trading; even in the future, when everyone bought stocks on computers, New York's trading center still looked like this. He really didn't see the necessity of it all.

William White now understood why Buffett stayed in the countryside.

A sane person would turn crazy here. The so-called reasonable valuation was a joke. To avoid being affected, it was best to stay away from Wall Street.

"Let's go, Fulton. We're leaving."

"Yes, young master."

Taking one last glance at the ridiculous bull, William White couldn't help but smirk. In times of severe inflation, how could there be any bull market?

Saying no one was making money would be wrong; at least you could short sell. As long as you were bold and lucky enough, bull or bear markets didn't matter.

To avoid alerting the Hunter family, William decided to use twelve accounts and settle with different futures brokers.

The precious metals market had many issues. At least one thing was certain: the current margin requirements were way too low. Even slight fluctuations would cause liquidation.

One silver contract was valued at $1,000, corresponding to 5,000 ounces of silver. When silver was $2, the underlying asset was worth $10,000, about a tenfold leverage.

Now the silver price was close to $6. That was a thirtyfold leverage. A fluctuation over 3% would cause liquidation. Investing now was a joke; the metal futures center was more like a gambling den.

Regulatory agencies knew the risks, but with the current tight money supply, raising margin requirements would shrink trading volumes. They thrived on transaction volumes anyway. Besides, it wasn't their risk.

*****

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