Frederick Has a New Idea

"You can go ahead and pick a few places now, then buy them."

Nell was walking down the street with Frederick. Although this was a metropolis with tens of millions of people, the lingering winter and the ongoing depression made it feel empty and silent.

"Do you think housing prices will keep falling?" Frederick naturally trusted Nell's judgment, but human nature is what it is.

Over the past three years, property prices and land values in the U.S. had dropped like crazy. In some areas, they had plummeted by 70–80%, which wasn't even surprising anymore. Wilkie's massive piece of land for his supermarket — including a parking lot that could hold over a thousand cars — cost just a little over three thousand dollars in total. Before the Great Depression, that amount would've barely gotten you an 80-square-meter apartment in Queens.

And that's without any renovations!

Now Americans had smartened up — no more buying property. Real estate was no longer a stable investment; prices just kept dropping. This prudent mindset would last another twenty or thirty years, only beginning to change once the generation devastated by the Depression had mostly died out.

So it made perfect sense that someone as sharp as Frederick would ask if he should wait a bit longer. Sure, he had money, but smart spending mattered. Spend where it counted, save where it didn't.

"Prices probably won't fall much more," Nell said, pointing to the dazzling cityscape of New York.

"All right, I'll have a look around over the next couple of days." Frederick had toured New York with Nell before, but the city was huge — he hadn't even scratched the surface.

"There are tons of bankrupt hotels — you can check the courts for upcoming auctions."

Right now, hundreds of thousands of properties in New York were tied up in judicial auctions, with no buyers in sight. Banks couldn't recover their loans; even selling at half price didn't attract interest. For those with real needs, this was a rare bottom-of-the-market opportunity.

"You mentioned those clubs someone bought before — what if I bought a few and renovated them…"

"What do you mean?" Nell didn't quite get it.

"Aren't there lots of rich folks in New York?"

Oh boy. Those clubs were for baseball, polo, or golf — typical elite pastimes. Frederick's idea was definitely on the wilder side. And as for the abundance of "rich folks," Nell figured he meant the sort who owned estates or summer homes outside the city, where they'd escape during New York's scorching summers.

These retreats naturally offered recreational activities — golf, of course. And golf caddies, preferably attractive young women, were part of the package.

Frederick had already mastered the low-end market. In industrial cities like Chicago and Detroit, where manufacturing concentrated, low-end services were all that was needed.

But New York was a different beast. Sure, low-end services were still in demand, but upscale clubs and establishments needed to be built too. If you wanted to make money, you had to cover both ends — not making money when there's money to be made is just foolish.

However, rich people usually avoided casual flings. Syphilis was rampant, and though HIV hadn't appeared yet, syphilis alone was bad enough.

Later, when the U.S. military fought overseas, syphilis spread so widely that the army had to distribute condoms in bulk and urge soldiers to control themselves — or at least use protection.

It got so bad that more soldiers lost combat readiness due to syphilis than from being wounded by enemy fire. That was a major international embarrassment.

So most big shots kept personal mistresses. If they got bored, they'd just cycle through girlfriends — second, third, fourth, all the way up to ten or more. Random flings with strangers, no matter how attractive, weren't worth the risk. Compared to protecting your health, keeping your pants zipped wasn't that hard.

It wasn't that no one had thought of opening high-end venues. It's just that the competition — family backgrounds, safety, privacy — was far too strong. Even if you opened one, they wouldn't come.

"There may be lots of rich folks, but they're not necessarily going to show up," Nell said, giving Frederick a reality check. High-end business was much harder than low-end.

"Even if it's just a club in form?" Frederick pressed. "Like the old French salons, you know? Where everything was done through personal introductions — you bring me in, I bring someone else…"

Nell shrugged.

Unless it was one of those exclusive, inner-circle clubs — the kind only known and used by insiders — nobody would come. And even then, such clubs weren't about profits. They were about networking, secret deals, and scheming.

Think of Japan's "ryotei politics." Wealthy merchants and political families colluded in these traditional restaurants to exploit the people. Ordinary folks had no chance of stepping inside. Even if you were a democratically elected representative, a ryotei wouldn't host you unless you were from an elite family and had made a reservation well in advance.

"I see…" Frederick nodded thoughtfully.

If the economy had been stronger, Frederick could've targeted the rising middle class — that space between the super-rich and the working class — for his business.

In America, especially in New York, a new millionaire was made — and lost — every day. These nouveau riche were prime targets for consumer exploitation.

With money to burn, shunned by the true elites, and unwilling to settle for the cheap stuff, they were easily drawn in by flashy offers. You could rake in cash from them with just a little showmanship.

Unfortunately, the U.S. economy was in such bad shape that it would stay broken for at least another decade. Frederick could forget about making money off that group.

"If you really want to do something else, consider hotels or movies — both are legit businesses with future potential," Nell said sincerely.

After World War II, America's industrial workers would enjoy about fifty years of prosperity. A single man's salary could buy an apartment, afford a car, and support a stay-at-home wife with two or three kids — and a dog.

On weekends, they'd go for picnics. Twice a year, they'd take domestic or international vacations. Everyday life was full of affordable entertainment. You'd see them shopping in big department stores — not just hunting for deals in discount warehouses.

Those fifty years would be the golden age for American workers. Naturally, industries like hospitality and film — those catering to the public — would also thrive.

A constant stream of customers would bring Frederick steady, generous profits.