Forging America: My Campaign Manager is Roosevelt-Chapter 107 - 73: Televised Debate

Leo walked through the stunned crowd.

His steps were steady. Frank tried to follow and protect him, but Leo raised a hand, stopping all the Union brothers behind him.

This was between him and Martin Carter Wright.

On the marble steps of City Hall, Carter Wright had just finished his public relations performance.

He watched the police car carrying Dave Miller speed away, his face maintaining a look of solemn resolve, as if he had just sacrificed his own for the greater good.

The reporters hadn’t dispersed. They still crowded around the bottom of the steps, waiting for a bigger story.

Leo walked into the middle of the throng of reporters, and the crowd automatically parted to make way for him.

Leo stood at the foot of the steps, tilted his head back, and looked up at Carter Wright, who stood high above.

Their gazes clashed in mid-air.

Carter Wright looked at Leo.

This young man had cost him a leg and forced him to personally dispose of his own henchman.

Carter Wright knew exactly what Leo was about to do.

In front of all the media, Leo was going to fan the flames, direct them toward him, and question what role he had played in this atrocity.

Once he was trapped in that endless cycle of moral self-justification, Carter Wright would lose.

He couldn’t let Leo ask the first question.

He had to seize control of the narrative, to reset the rules of engagement.

Carter Wright acted first, grabbing the microphone he had not yet set down.

"Mr. Wallace."

His voice, amplified by the sound system, cut through all the noise at the scene.

"You’re just in time."

Leo stopped in his tracks.

"Mr. Mayor, I came here to ask—"

"I know what you want to ask," Carter Wright interrupted. "You want to ask about accountability. You want to ask about justice. You want to continue your emotionally manipulative performance on this lawn where a conflict just took place."

Carter Wright descended two steps, closing the distance with Leo and ensuring the cameras could get them both in the same shot.

"You’re very good at this, Leo. Really, I have to admit."

The Mayor pointed to the lingering crowd and the cameras set up on the lawn.

"You’re good at camping on the lawn, good at crying for the camera on your phone, good at simplifying complex municipal administration issues into sentimental slogans. You’re a natural-born actor. If this were Hollywood, you’d have my vote."

"But," Carter Wright’s tone took a sharp turn.

"This is Pittsburgh, an industrial city of 300,000 people facing severe economic challenges."

"Governing this city isn’t a 24-hour-a-day reality show."

"It requires more than just passion and slogans. It requires rational thought, complex decision-making, and a deep understanding of budgets, laws, and public policy."

Carter Wright looked at Leo.

He was making a bet.

He was betting that Leo was just a populist grassroots activist with no real substance.

He was betting that Leo didn’t understand the details of tax structures, the regulations of urban planning, or the dry but deadly logic of administration.

He was betting that the ones who had pushed him into this corner were a top-tier team of advisors from Washington.

He was going to drag Leo from these emotional streets into his own arena—a coliseum of logical traps and professional expertise.

"Since you’re so confident in yourself, since you believe you know how to govern this city better than I do."

Carter Wright spoke loudly, addressing all the cameras.

"Then, I invite you."

"This Sunday night—five days from now—to a one-on-one televised debate."

A commotion erupted among the reporters on site.

An incumbent mayor proactively challenging a rival to a televised debate was a rare event in Pittsburgh’s election history.

Usually, the incumbent with the advantage would do everything possible to avoid giving the challenger such an opportunity to share the stage.

This showed that Carter Wright was getting desperate, but it also showed he had absolute confidence in himself.

"No teleprompters, no scripts prepared in advance by a PR team."

Carter Wright pressed his advantage, staring intently into Leo’s eyes.

"Just the two of us, standing before all the citizens of Pittsburgh, having a real conversation about this city’s budget, public safety, employment, and future planning."

"Let’s see who truly knows how to govern Pittsburgh, once all the sentimental theatrics are stripped away."

"Mr. Wallace, do you dare to accept?"

This was a declaration of war.

It was also an open conspiracy.

If Leo refused or showed any hesitation, he would be labeled a "coward" and a "fraud," and the entire image he had built would instantly collapse.

If he accepted, he would have to step into Carter Wright’s strongest area of expertise. Carter Wright was a former prosecutor, honed by years in courtrooms and council chambers. His debate skills were ruthlessly sharp, and he excelled at ensnaring opponents in logical traps until they were completely disoriented.

Ethan Hawke and Karen Miller had been standing in front of the monitors, listening to the conversation unfold.

The color drained from both their faces at the same time.

"It’s a trap." Karen’s voice was tight. "Carter Wright is a top law school graduate and a former prosecutor. On a debate stage, he could talk a dead man back to life. Leo is a decent speaker and understands the campaign process well enough, but he lacks a systematic reserve of policy knowledge. In a high-intensity, unscripted debate like that, his blind spots will be easily exposed."

"Exactly," Ethan quickly added his analysis. "Carter Wright will bombard Leo with countless specific administrative statistics. If Leo gets just one wrong, or can’t answer, his opponent will latch onto it and never let go, painting him as an ignorant amateur."

"We have to find a way to decline, or at least postpone it." Karen grabbed her phone, ready to send Leo a signal. "We need at least two weeks to prepare. Five days is too short!"

In the plaza, all the cameras were trained on Leo.

Microphones were thrust toward his mouth.

Carter Wright maintained his aggressive posture, waiting for Leo to back down.

’Mr. President, did you hear that? He wants to debate me.’

Leo stood there, his face expressionless.

But deep in his mind, the voice that had always been with him let out a delighted laugh.

’Heh heh heh...’

Roosevelt was laughing heartily.

’Finally.’

’He’s finally chosen to fight on my favorite battlefield.’

’A debate?’

Roosevelt’s voice was filled with disdain.

’Who does he think he’s debating? A history student?’

’No.’

’He’s debating the man who once redrew the map of the world at the round table in Yalta.’

’With my voice, through the radio, I soothed a nation trembling in the Great Depression. With my speeches, I mobilized an isolationist United States into the arsenal of democracy.’

’Carter Wright thinks he understands policy? Thinks he understands data?’

’All he understands is how to use red tape to cover up problems. I, on the other hand, understand how to use the simplest language to pierce through complex lies.’

’He thinks this is his home turf.’

’No, my boy. Wherever there’s a microphone, that’s our home turf.’

Roosevelt’s voice grew impassioned, as if he were back on that cold inauguration day in 1933.

’Tell him, Leo.’

’Tell this arrogant bureaucrat.’

’We accept.’

’This isn’t just our chance to win the election. It’s the executioner’s block where we will utterly destroy his political career.’

In the real world, the corners of Leo’s mouth turned up slightly.

His smile held a kind of composure that made Carter Wright feel inexplicably flustered.

Leo took a step forward, his voice loud enough to cut through the cold night wind.

"Mr. Mayor."

Leo looked at Carter Wright’s face.

"You just sacrificed your police director to save your own position. That was an incredibly cold-blooded political maneuver."

The corner of Carter Wright’s eye twitched.

"And now, you want to use a debate to distract everyone, to use the word games and bureaucratic jargon you’re so good at to cover up the fact that this city is bleeding."

Leo nodded.

"No problem."

"Since you’re so eager to display your professional competence in front of the entire city."

"Then I will oblige you."

Facing all the cameras, Leo gave his solemn response.

"Sunday night. I’ll be there."

"I accept your challenge."

"One on one. No script, no aides."

Leo paused for a moment.

"But, Mr. Mayor, I have a small suggestion."

"I hope that when the time comes, on that debate stage, when you’re faced with the tough questions, with the truths you can’t avoid."

"You’ll be able to shed all that meaningless bureaucratic nonsense just as easily as you cut off Director Miller’s escape route?"

"Because this time, there’s no one left to take the fall for you."

After saying this, Leo didn’t spare Carter Wright another glance.

He turned, walked through the crowd, and headed toward his team.

Behind him, Carter Wright stood on the steps, his expression terrifyingly grim.

He had issued the challenge, and the other party had accepted.

But he didn’t feel the relief he had expected.

On the contrary, watching Leo’s retreating back, an inexplicable chill rose in his heart.

There was something in the young man’s eyes that he couldn’t see through.

It wasn’t just confidence.

It was a certainty, as if he had already foreseen the outcome.

...

That night, Pittsburgh was in an uproar.

All over social media, in every bar, at every dinner table, people were talking about it.

The incumbent mayor versus the young challenger.

The defender of the old system versus the harbinger of a new era.

This was a duel for the soul of Pittsburgh.

The entire city’s attention was focused on the coming Sunday night.

This would be the final battle that would decide the fate of the Steel City.