Just as Donnie had said, Atlantic City had entered a period of chaos.
On the third day after George Kurle was killed, Nucky's younger brother went to Gundah Hotel for some leisure time when suddenly two gunmen emerged and fired two shots at Eli Johnson.
Although Eli managed to dodge in time, he was still hit by one bullet and was immediately taken to the hospital where he was saved from critical danger after emergency treatment.
Following that, a proposal by State Senator Jimmy, a subordinate of the Brigadier, to build Atlantic City's fifth seaport was rejected.
By this time, both the Brigadier and Nucky used all kinds of means, although it did not have much impact on the ordinary people of Atlantic City.
But among the upper-middle classes, this matter had already caused a great deal of alarm!
And Donnie, who had triggered this series of events, had been laying low during this time, continuing his acquisition of Atlantic City's pubs without the issue of George Kurle buying back Korla Bar to deal with.
"Donnie, Donnie, Donnie!"
To the left of Korla Bar was a boarding house, but this establishment was only for appearances, much like the massage parlors in the alleys of later times.
To the right was another bar.
The current owner of this bar, Scott Jordan, sat in his own establishment, holding a glass and dramatically calling out Donnie's name three times.
"I will definitely sell you the tavern, but not now. Allow me to wait a little longer, wait until next week, and I will certainly sell you the tavern!"
Next week?
You said the same thing last week!
Donnie was sure that the other party didn't know the real intentions of Atlantic City's upper echelons, and he only wanted to take advantage of these good times to sell as much liquor as possible.
The prohibition order was getting closer and closer, and people's last bout of revelry was becoming more frenzied.
The final celebration!
This was now the collective behavior of all the drinkers in Atlantic City, and indeed in the entire United States.
Naturally, this led to the city's liquor entering a phase of frantic transportation, with almost daily carloads of whiskey and rum being brought into Atlantic City.
Every night, drunken people could be seen lying on the streets of Atlantic City inebriated beyond sense.
"Alright, since you've said so, Scott, I can only wait!"
Donnie made a helpless gesture as he got up, continuing to say, "But we've agreed, you must give me a definite answer next week!"
Scott got up laughing and shook hands with Donnie, "That's for sure, rest assured. No matter who comes to buy the tavern from me, I won't agree with them, I will keep it for you!"
Donnie breathed a sigh of relief, "That would be best!"
After speaking, Donnie left Scott's tavern, and Donnie, who had his back turned to Scott and the others, also revealed a radiant smile at this moment.
"How foolish, Donnie!" After Donnie's figure had completely disappeared, Scott happily poured himself a glass of beer, with a smile just as radiant on his face.
"Boss, Donnie has been acquiring stock from James and buying bars in Atlantic City previously, could it be that he has got some news?" asked the bartender of Scott's tavern, somewhat worried.
Scott dismissively waved, "What could a man who just came off the battlefield and just arrived in Atlantic City possibly know? Can he even compare with us? Until now, I haven't heard of anything Atlantic City will do that goes against the prohibition order. Remember who sent the Brigadier in!"
As the once underground emperor of Atlantic City, the Brigadier, who once ruled the city unchallenged, was sent to prison for one reason only: he had offended a higher power.
In fact, this was no secret in Atlantic City.
The one who sent the Brigadier to prison was none other than the current President of the United States, Woodrow Johnson.
When Woodrow Wilson first entered the political arena, it began in New Jersey, and in 1910, Wilson decided to run for Governor of New Jersey, but at the time, the Brigadier preferred to support his good friend and confidant Vivian Lewis.
During the election process, the Brigadier also used his influence in Atlantic City and New Jersey politics to forge a considerable number of votes.
However, despite all this, the Brigadier still ultimately lost to Woodrow Wilson.
That's when their grudge took root, and from then on, New Jersey began investigating the Brigadier until he was imprisoned in 1913, by which time Woodrow Wilson had become the President of the United States.
Through this incident, the people of Atlantic City came to understand one truth: no matter how much power you wield in Atlantic City, your fate is still not in your own hands when it comes to those at higher levels.
Although Woodrow Wilson's influence across the United States had waned from its peak with the end of World War I, everyone knew that Wilson, an academic with a strong personal resolve, would never allow any place in the United States to defy the Prohibition law, the constitution he initiated.
This was the most common thought among the ordinary people of Atlantic City.
"Wilson is indeed a very assertive President, but let us not forget, next year is the election year. Judging by the current situation, Wilson will have a hard time maintaining his wartime prestige. The American people are gradually abandoning Wilson, especially after his performance in France, which has chilled the hearts of many Americans. I believe, after next year's election, the beautiful United States of America will welcome a completely new President!"
In the banquet hall of the Ritz Hotel, Nucky was raising his glass, delivering an impassioned speech.
And his purpose for this speech was very clear: to get the people who could decide the future of Atlantic City to agree with his decision, to send the so-called Prohibition law in Atlantic City to hell!
"Ladies and gentlemen, I need you now to sit there, close your eyes, and think carefully. After January of next year, when there will be no fine wine anywhere in America except for Atlantic City, all of your businesses here will be worried about not having enough hands!"
At this point, Nucky pointed to a middle-aged white man and said, "Baharach, even though you've decided not to run for mayor again, wouldn't you want to open the highway from Atlantic City to Philadelphia during your term?"
"Phil, imagine your hotel not only being full on weekends. If we don't enforce Prohibition, I can assure you that your hotel will be full seven days a week, every day!"
"Robinson, what is your casino's daily income now? Although I don't know the exact figure, I can assure you that by next year, your earnings are definitely going to double!"
"Joey, I can guarantee that when you run for Congress next year, Atlantic City will provide you with more campaign funds...."
Everyone in the room had a smile on their face when Nucky called their name.
As if at that moment, they had already seen the situation of their interests doubling next year.
When the benefits are substantial enough, the so-called United States constitution no longer exists in their eyes.
Many had already begun to voice their support for Nucky's decision, and the voices were growing louder. After the commotion, everyone's gaze turned to an old man in the room.
Although his decision now could no longer sway everyone else's, everyone still wanted to know his thoughts.
After all, this person had once, just like Nucky now, led the others seated here to earn substantial profits!
The Commodore slowly opened his eyes, and no one saw anger or desolation in his gaze, only calmness.
"Of course, a few years ago I walked into prison without complaint, because I knew that was what was best for Atlantic City. Now, my decision is also for the future development of Atlantic City. I will make the same decision as everyone else. I will use all my connections to ensure that Atlantic City will always be a city that never lacks fine wines!"
Hearing the Commodore say this, everyone in the room breathed a sigh of relief. They were really worried that due to George Kurle's death, the Commodore would recklessly oppose everyone's interests.
"Very well, if that's the case, then we have all decided: after next Christmas, we will notify all taverns in Atlantic City that they can continue to sell alcohol and make money!"
As for why they were waiting another week to make this decision, the reason was simple!
Since the decision had already been made, those present naturally had to start buying up all the whisky and rum on the market in Atlantic City.
Once these people had control of all the controllable alcoholic beverages in the city, they would become the rule makers and price setters of the market, and everyone seated here would make a fortune!
Nucky was no exception, as he not only bought up all the liquor in Atlantic City that could be purchased, but also extended his reach to big cities like Philadelphia and Chicago, contacting the liquor merchants there and having their stock transported to Atlantic City by the truckload.
In the Commodore's villa.
"We've found out where Nucky's storing his liquor stockpile!"
A young, burly man with a straight posture stood in front of the Commodore, his eyes filled with respect for the old man who seemed frail and close to death under a blanket on the couch.
"Good. Nucky wants to control Atlantic City with liquor, then we'll make sure he has no liquor to sell. When those people realize their profits have vanished, I want to see how Nucky can still secure those votes!"
At that moment, the Commodore's eyes were filled with vengeful fury!
.
The bustling Christmas had passed, and Donnie paid no mind to his first Christmas in the United States. During this period, Donnie did only one thing.
That was to officially rename Korla Bar to Block Tavern!
Just when everyone in Atlantic City thought they were going to get back to normal after Christmas, a piece of news spread throughout Atlantic City!
Prohibition, has no place in Atlantic City!